Mutinondo 1st April 2007
The overall impression of Lusaka is a vast improvement from when we were here 4 years ago, much cleaner, tarred roads better maintained and much more vibrant. However the cost if living appears to be very high, especially the cost of imported, and value-added goods. Eg sweetcorn tins, long-life milk and cereals are double what they are in SA in rand terms. Fresh milk is R8/l, Fanta R6/can. Spares from back-street shops are only ¼ of the price of those in SA, but they are not the genuine parts. Petrol and diesel is expensive ZKw782000 to fill three of the 4 tanks. ( in Lusaka 9R/l to SA R6/l).
One can see and feel the progress towards first world standards. Subsistence farms generally continue to grow fairly poor crops of maize, sorghum, peanuts and cotton, but excellent, disease free tomatoes and sweet potatoes. The natural forests continue to be devastated by business men paying the Zambians to make charcoal which they store in grain bags. They then weave a net over the top of the charcoal to keep it in the bag, but sometimes the net is almost as big as the grain bag and the charcoal protrudes in a stack over the top of the back, protected by the net. These they stack upright in rows propped on forked sticks ready for collection by 30-tonne trucks which pass on set days.
Commercial farms have had an excellent crop of maize this year. The subsistence farms seem to specialize because we have passed places where they sell their wares on the side of the road, and once you have passed that section of honey, tomatoes, sweet potatoes or whatever, they don’t seem to appear again. What goes on behind the bush next to the road is a complete mystery to the casual traveler who does not deviate off the tar.
The Zambian government has an excellent way of alleviating the unemployment by having 90% of the grass on the roadside cut manually with slashers. We see the lean men twisting rhythmically facing a wall of grass as they cut their task-worth.
Diesel consumption is largely dependant on the bowser from which you fill your tanks, as they do not all have accurate meters. The Landcruiser has a magnetic pull to fuel stations and runs at 18-19 l/100Km (5-6 Km/l) The landys are managing 12-13 /100Km (8Km/l).
On our way along the Chinese Road (so-called because the Chinese built it) which forks off west, off the Great North Road, we and George and Ann-Rose separated from the other couples and went to see the Sherriffs while the others went to Kundulila Falls. Murphy’s Law was working, and we were so sorry that the Sherriffs were not there, having left the day before for their other farm south of Serenje. However, their cook gave us a guided tour with George being fascinated by their pioneering ability. George was wanting to write a paper on ex-pats’ experiences in Zambia, and would have really liked to have chatted to the elder Sherriff, Peter. The labour were still drying and sorting the last of their tobacco crop for the year. The farm looks a bit neglected from previous years, but that could be because we came at the time in between planting seasons, and because Peter has been ill. We ourselves still marvel at the way they have pioneered and developed their farms. Their jeotropa trees (diesel trees) now produce enough fuel to supply their needs of diesel for 9 months of the year.
We proceeded north towards Kasanka Game Reserve and a raptor suddenly flew up and hit the front of our Landy. I ran back to it, and thought it was dead, but it responded to eye touch, and I cradled it on my lap for the rest of the afternoon. I identified it as a juvenile dark chanting goshawk. It gradually improved as it sat quietly on my lap. Looking for a bush camp we went down a track for 6Km and found an old abandoned hunting camp. There were 2 guards, Maybe and Moses who couldn’t speak much English who said yes to everything Nev said, including yes to the question of whether we could camp there for the night. We went back to the main road to wait for the others and their arrival from Kundulila Falls and set up our best bush camp so far. We had a roaring fire that Moses and Maybe kept stoking, even throughout the night. George and Ann-Rose are still resistant to bush camps and miss their flush toilets and brightly-lit bathroom, and being in a secure environment. The rest of the group seem very at home in the bush camps which we have found for them so far.
The next morning the goshawk could flap around awkwardly, so I left it to nature. We proceeded to Kasanka. At the reception, the manager, Kim, said that Kasaka was not really open because it was out of season and their famous hide was being renovated, the tsetses were bigger than those in Kafue, and the bridges to Shoebill island washed away.
The old saying that ‘you haven’t lived in Africa until you have been bitten by tsetses, made up prick up our ears, as we had been bitten so many times in Kafue it was enough to last us a lifetime. I am still itching.
After arriving at the hide three huge tsetses attacked us, so Nev and I decided to leave, having visited Kasanka before in July and December and we did not feel it was worth the R400/day to be bitten again. Tsetses think Nev is scrumptious pudding. We split from the group, having already seen the rare sititunga in the marshes below, one of the things for which the hide is famous. The other is the flight of the large 1m wingspan, straw-coloured insectivorous bats which roost there in November and December each year. The locals catch and eat these bats, judging from the number we have seen for sale along the side of the road on previous occasions. We then and proceeded to Mutinando and arranged to meet the group there the following night. The Great North Road north is very good except for the odd huge, invisible and unexpected pothole which is indicated by the long back skid marks which precede them. Luckily we didn’t hit any, some as deep as a wheelbarrow.
Livushi Manda Wednesday 4th April 2007
We arrived at Mutinondo, 25Km off the Great North Road east towards the escarpment at the camp run by Mike and Lari Merritt who are friends of Pat and Marion Long from Balgowan. Mike and Lari are the most friendly, laid back , environmentally conscious couple we have ever met. Some might say they have ‘Zambian fever’ because they only know it is Monday because the cook served them the usual Sunday night meal of baked beans, the night before, which was Sunday. If he forgets, then no-one knows what day of the week it is, which can be inconvenient then, as sometimes booked guests arrive unexpectedly!! They have solar and wind generated electricity which they use to charge batteries to run their computer. The water from the crystal clear river is pumped using a solar pump imported from Australia. There are huge, bare, humped mountains of granite, surrounded by miombo forests and grasslands of extensive biodiversity. The crystal clear river has three gushing cool waterfalls in which we swam, and lovely walks. We and Beryl and Dave walked for 8Km through the forests and next to the river. (They had arrived soon after we did, having seen the length of the grass in Kasanka, decided they would never see any game there, and decided to join us.) On our return from our walk and swims found that the ravens had managed to open our food box and attacked our cereals and eaten the whole packet of almond nuts. Luckily no major damage was done. Lari told us how the two clever ravens steal their soap and toothbrushes from the open-air bathrooms at the camp grounds, which serve them too. They also give horse rides.
I was having horse-withdrawal symptoms, so decided to go for a ride. When I got there the groom Fred was grooming a one-year old filly preparing to ride her. I just couldn’t help but did some Parelli games on the filly, and started to show Paddy (Lari’s nephew) and Fred what I was doing. Well, one thing led to another and I ended up by playing with three of their horses and teaching Paddy and Fred about the seven games. I didn’t go for the ride, but had a whale of a time playing with the horses. Lari and Paddy said they could see the difference in the horses’ attitude immediately. I gave them Pippa Arnot’s contact number, and it turned out that Pippa’s mom, Ila had taught Lari to ride when she was at school. Small world!! I even got my stay at Mutinondo free and had fun with the horses to boot!!
And then a series of mistakes occurred resulted in chaos for the next 24 hours. Firstly the balance of our group did not turn up, having taken a wrong turning and had to do a bush camp miles away. SMSs to and fro, resulted in us assuming the wrong gps cords and waited for them 75Km further along the road than we should have. Then George missed the turn-off resulting in Brian and willy getting bogged in the same place. While we were waiting for them to catch up to us we tried to find some shade on an unused (we thought) road. We parked the Landy in the shade at right angles across the road with thick grass touching the front, and thick grass at the back. Dave parked his Cruiser 5m away and we set up a card table in the middle and started playing bridge in the road. Soon afterwards we heard shuffling in the grass out emerged a chap pushing his bike with a bag of mealie meal on it through the thick grass in front of our Landy. We greeted him and apologized for blocking the road. He smiled broadly and said no problem. This happened about eight times and one even asked if he could join us in a game of cards if we were playing for money. It wasn’t long before hoards of kids stood nearby chanting ‘givemesweets’ over and over, it annoyed us so we put some music on to drown them out, so they started dancing rhythmically to the music and stopped chanting, thank goodness! Zambians are very friendly and tolerant people, because if, at home a couple of foreign vehicles had blocked our road to play cards we would have been highly indignant and called the police, to say the least .
The others eventually joined us after we pulled them out of the bog. We proceeded towards Shoebill Island in the Bengwelu swamps very late. On the way we had to cross a river/swamp. Both other Landys got stuck in the river bed which delayed us further. By this time we were looking for a place to camp but there were huts all the way. We stopped at a school, but a drunk local said we couldn’t stay there, so we moved on, not wanting to antagonize anyone. The sun was setting and we still had 20Km to go, having broken the golden rule of finding a camp site soon after 4pm as possible. We hurried along the road and eventually got to the open plains of Bengwelu, and found the causeway, which we had used on two previous occasions to get to the scout camp. One of the party had received instructions to not use the causeway, but believed that we had not got there yet, so didn’t tell us in time. We proceeded as fast as possible along the causeway until a radio call said Brian had sunk into the road. Simultaneously, being in the front, we arrived at a point where the causeway had been washed away, so could not proceed anyway. We camped in the middle of the causeway, (only 3m wide) as it was now dark with the full moon casting a glow on the open plains with bog and water on either side of us. Huge herds of letchwe and wattled cranes, and the call of hyenas and side-striped jackal mixed with the grunts of the letchwe set a surreal scene in the moonlight. Brian and Maureen spent an awefull night in a tent on the ground, cold and damp and worried about their Landy which was tilted to a 30deg angle towards the bog.
The next morning we awoke to a low ground mist, surrounded by hundreds of grunting black letchwe, wattled cranes, maribu storks, sacred and glossy ibis to the horizon in all directions. Fan-tastic!!! The only thing wrong with this camp was the ablutions were a bit un-private!!
We used three vehicles together like a train to pull Brian’s Landy out the bog with Nev directing. The game guard then arrived, and told us that the only road to Shoebill Island was straight into the bog. It was hard to believe him, but Nev was eventually persuaded, (after having walked into the bog, and found the surface quite hard under the first three inched of mud and water) to be the guinea pig and we sailed off the causeway into the bog, with water spraying right over the Landy’s bonnet. When the others saw we were going along at a fair speed they all came along and it was quite a sight with 5 vehicles spraying water 5m either side and over their bonnets. We traveled 2Km like this with the water getting deeper and deeper until we reached the scout camp. We were poled across the swamp to Shoebill Island in two canoes and spent a restful afternoon looking at birds and playing games. Paradise.
Next morning we left at 6am to look for the elusive shoebill, but after a magic 4 hours of birdwatching being poled through fields of water lily flowers and tall grass, reeds and papyrus, we gave up looking for them, and returned disappointed but soul restored by the beauty, peace and tranquility of the swamp. We did not find shoebills. We could not stay another day because we had discovered that three of us had had our passports stamped, giving us only one week in Zambia, and Nev’s wasn’t even stamped at all!!! So we were illegally in Zambia, and had to get to Mpika with the letter kindly written by Mike Merritt to explain the situation to the immigration officer at Mpika.
On the return journey we had to renegotiate the river. We fixed up the crossing and the first 3 vehicles crossed without incident. Brian’s Landy then got stuck, which we successfully pulled out. By this time we had an audience of over 100 people. Our Landy was last and I, (the only woman who was driving at the time) drove it across and managed without getting stuck. Before I left, I gave the local women the thumbs up, and when I succeeded in crossing, they all gave me a huge cheer. (Nev was the director of the successful operations).
We camped that night in the bush, just after 4pm this time. We cannot understand why this road is even described as a road on a map as it has huge dongas and potholes and we have to go windy, windy, bumpety bump at 15Km/hr for virtually the entire 75Km.
I was having horse-withdrawal symptoms, so decided to go for a ride. When I got there the groom Fred was grooming a one-year old filly preparing to ride her. I just couldn’t help but did some Parelli games on the filly, and started to show Paddy (Lari’s nephew) and Fred what I was doing. Well, one thing led to another and I ended up by playing with three of their horses and teaching Paddy and Fred about the seven games. I didn’t go for the ride, but had a whale of a time playing with the horses. Lari and Paddy said they could see the difference in the horses’ attitude immediately. I gave them Pippa Arnot’s contact number, and it turned out that Pippa’s mom, Ila had taught Lari to ride when she was at school. Small world!! I even got my stay at Mutinondo free and had fun with the horses to boot!!
And then a series of mistakes occurred resulted in chaos for the next 24 hours. Firstly the balance of our group did not turn up, having taken a wrong turning and had to do a bush camp miles away. SMSs to and fro, resulted in us assuming the wrong gps cords and waited for them 75Km further along the road than we should have. Then George missed the turn-off resulting in Brian and willy getting bogged in the same place. While we were waiting for them to catch up to us we tried to find some shade on an unused (we thought) road. We parked the Landy in the shade at right angles across the road with thick grass touching the front, and thick grass at the back. Dave parked his Cruiser 5m away and we set up a card table in the middle and started playing bridge in the road. Soon afterwards we heard shuffling in the grass out emerged a chap pushing his bike with a bag of mealie meal on it through the thick grass in front of our Landy. We greeted him and apologized for blocking the road. He smiled broadly and said no problem. This happened about eight times and one even asked if he could join us in a game of cards if we were playing for money. It wasn’t long before hoards of kids stood nearby chanting ‘givemesweets’ over and over, it annoyed us so we put some music on to drown them out, so they started dancing rhythmically to the music and stopped chanting, thank goodness! Zambians are very friendly and tolerant people, because if, at home a couple of foreign vehicles had blocked our road to play cards we would have been highly indignant and called the police, to say the least .
The others eventually joined us after we pulled them out of the bog. We proceeded towards Shoebill Island in the Bengwelu swamps very late. On the way we had to cross a river/swamp. Both other Landys got stuck in the river bed which delayed us further. By this time we were looking for a place to camp but there were huts all the way. We stopped at a school, but a drunk local said we couldn’t stay there, so we moved on, not wanting to antagonize anyone. The sun was setting and we still had 20Km to go, having broken the golden rule of finding a camp site soon after 4pm as possible. We hurried along the road and eventually got to the open plains of Bengwelu, and found the causeway, which we had used on two previous occasions to get to the scout camp. One of the party had received instructions to not use the causeway, but believed that we had not got there yet, so didn’t tell us in time. We proceeded as fast as possible along the causeway until a radio call said Brian had sunk into the road. Simultaneously, being in the front, we arrived at a point where the causeway had been washed away, so could not proceed anyway. We camped in the middle of the causeway, (only 3m wide) as it was now dark with the full moon casting a glow on the open plains with bog and water on either side of us. Huge herds of letchwe and wattled cranes, and the call of hyenas and side-striped jackal mixed with the grunts of the letchwe set a surreal scene in the moonlight. Brian and Maureen spent an awefull night in a tent on the ground, cold and damp and worried about their Landy which was tilted to a 30deg angle towards the bog.
The next morning we awoke to a low ground mist, surrounded by hundreds of grunting black letchwe, wattled cranes, maribu storks, sacred and glossy ibis to the horizon in all directions. Fan-tastic!!! The only thing wrong with this camp was the ablutions were a bit un-private!!
We used three vehicles together like a train to pull Brian’s Landy out the bog with Nev directing. The game guard then arrived, and told us that the only road to Shoebill Island was straight into the bog. It was hard to believe him, but Nev was eventually persuaded, (after having walked into the bog, and found the surface quite hard under the first three inched of mud and water) to be the guinea pig and we sailed off the causeway into the bog, with water spraying right over the Landy’s bonnet. When the others saw we were going along at a fair speed they all came along and it was quite a sight with 5 vehicles spraying water 5m either side and over their bonnets. We traveled 2Km like this with the water getting deeper and deeper until we reached the scout camp. We were poled across the swamp to Shoebill Island in two canoes and spent a restful afternoon looking at birds and playing games. Paradise.
Next morning we left at 6am to look for the elusive shoebill, but after a magic 4 hours of birdwatching being poled through fields of water lily flowers and tall grass, reeds and papyrus, we gave up looking for them, and returned disappointed but soul restored by the beauty, peace and tranquility of the swamp. We did not find shoebills. We could not stay another day because we had discovered that three of us had had our passports stamped, giving us only one week in Zambia, and Nev’s wasn’t even stamped at all!!! So we were illegally in Zambia, and had to get to Mpika with the letter kindly written by Mike Merritt to explain the situation to the immigration officer at Mpika.
On the return journey we had to renegotiate the river. We fixed up the crossing and the first 3 vehicles crossed without incident. Brian’s Landy then got stuck, which we successfully pulled out. By this time we had an audience of over 100 people. Our Landy was last and I, (the only woman who was driving at the time) drove it across and managed without getting stuck. Before I left, I gave the local women the thumbs up, and when I succeeded in crossing, they all gave me a huge cheer. (Nev was the director of the successful operations).
We camped that night in the bush, just after 4pm this time. We cannot understand why this road is even described as a road on a map as it has huge dongas and potholes and we have to go windy, windy, bumpety bump at 15Km/hr for virtually the entire 75Km.
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