I have been slowly going through my old anecdotes for things I missed putting here. Here is a story about our trip to Botswana in June last year (2019).
In June, we drove up from Vilankulo to Victoria Falls, the farthest side of Zimbabwe, for J’s cousin’s wedding. It was my first time at Vic Falls, so I was excited to see them and explore the tourist destination. The wedding was right by the waterfall, and the thundering cascade of waves competed to be heard over the wedding music and vows.
Almost all the guests drove home two days after the wedding, and we were due to go back as well – we had gotten a lift with P and M from Vilankulo. But, being right near the Botswana border, J thought it would be fun if we went to visit his friends who lived there, who had had a farm next to his when they were children growing up in Zimbabwe. I agreed. Our plan was very last minute; we decided to go to Botswana over dinner and would have to leave the next morning. We tried to reach J’s friends, but didn’t have their numbers, and they weren’t replying overnight to our facebook messages. No matter, said J, I know where Corn (one of his friends) lives – she works in Kasane, just across the border. We can go and meet her there and she will help us find a way to the rest of the family in Maun. Great, I thought, and the next morning we got on the bus.
The bus driver, it turns out, had been to the same place to get his hunting license as J, and so they quickly became fast friends. This, I have learned, is a classic incident in Zimbabwe - it seems that everyone has some connection to everyone else. We told the driver the name of the company Corn works for, and he phoned them and left a message asking for her number. Happy days, we thought. We cruised through the border and pulled into the first lodge we passed for a steak lunch. There, our driver stayed with us (we were the only ones in the bus on that day) and came to the lodge to ask the activity center there whether they had Corn’s number, as the safari place hadn’t answered. About an hour later, he came down, saying no luck. We were about to leave and try to find the safari office ourselves, when they finally called. We eagerly asked about Corn, only to be told she no longer worked there and had transferred to an office in Maun. Maun is about a 400km drive from Kasane. Well, we thought. What now. We decided, as it was getting a bit late, to find an Air B&B and try to find Corn’s number again in the morning. We studied the Air B&B site, but, it being mid June near the Okavango, most houses were full. We finally found a place we could stay on a crocodile farm, where we were met by a very accommodating woman called Crocodile Sue.
Fat crocs on the croc farm
We told her what we were doing in Kasane, and, to our surprise, she said, “Corn? I know her well. I’ll call her for you.” And just like that, there we had found Corn, on a crocodile farm of all places. Corn, who still worked for a safari company in Maun, organized for us to catch a private plane from Kasane to Maun. An incredible stroke of luck. We had a couple of nights in Kasane first, so decided to make the most of it by going on the Chobe River sunset cruise. Here, again, we were very lucky. We walked to all the different companies doing safaris (they all have offices in the center of town and one can walk in and book) and happened upon one that was doing a test of a new tour - one with complimentary drinks and food. They were doing a test of the snack plate and so had no tourists, but were trying it out with the staff to see if they wanted to start offering it on their list of tours. We were told we would be the only two tourists on the boat, and could sample the snack plate, would that be ok? Obviously, this was more than ok. We were thrilled.
I have never seen so many elephants at once as we did on this Chobe River sunset cruise.
The banks of the river were full of elephants. We saw two separate groups of mothers and babies, as well as the odd pair of bulls.
Then, it was a 400km flight in a tiny little plane to Maun. Once there, we spent a great few days with J’s old friends. It was lots of fun, we saw some game, went fishing, and had some braais, before J and I decided to head back to Harare, and then on home to Vilankulo.
View from my seat on the plane.
Leaving Maun and getting back to Harare was a different story. We decided to catch a bus, which left Maun at about 5am and went to Francistown. At least, in theory. In reality, we managed to run out of petrol 30kms outside of Nata, in the exact middle of nowhere. The driver said ok, no problem, I will hitchhike to Nata, get some petrol, hitchhike back, fill the bus, and we will be fine. Meantime, the 30 or so people on the bus waited, wandering around the middle of nowhere. I struck up a conversation with one of the men, who told me he is running for parliament. “This is my bus tour to see my country, to advertise. Now we are standing here in a field of dead grass on the side of the road, and I have never been so embarrassed. It is a complete embarrassment, to run out of petrol here,” he told me sadly. Indeed, it was a little funny to see cars with posters of his face driving past, advertising that the was running for office, and see him in the flesh, hiding behind the bus so his constituents wouldn’t see him.
Very much in the middle of nowhere…
It took the driver about two hours to bring the petrol back, and once he returned he very happily filled up the tank and began trying to start the car. Something was wrong, though. “He’s got an airlock, and is going to flood the engine if he doesn’t stop now,” J told me. “Go and tell him! Tell him that quickly, so he won’t flood the engine!” But it was too late. The engine flooded, and we were once again stuck. The driver told us he would make the trip to Nata a second time, this time to find a mechanic. At this point, half the people were in a rage, saying they had paid a lot for this bus, how could he run out of petrol, etc. Many decided to hitchhike to Nata as well, to the bus station, and try their luck getting to Francistown from there. We stayed, and after another two hours the driver returned with a mechanic. At that point we had been on the side of the road for about 5 hours. The mechanic fiddled for a while, but after 40 minutes seemed to be getting nowhere. Finally, we also abandoned hope, and found another bus to Francistown, where our last bus left at 3am the next day bound for Harare. Luckily, we made it there with not problem...