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Straight on!
The Zam-babwe Adventure Of Two Newly Arrived
Dutchies
By Ee Crovetto
It
was a while ago. To be precise it was our first weekend in Zambia.
Erwin and I were going on a little trip with the just borrowed tank
(some even call it the beast). Destination? Livingstone – The
Victoria Falls: inevitable!
We
had asked around on how to get there and the answer was simple:
there’s just one road to follow once you are on your way out of
Lusaka. Straight on! The road is very good so you can keep on
trucking a 160 Km/h. It’ll get you there no problem, 4 hours to the
max. We were stoked and I sat behind the wheel happy as Larry. After
an hour the tar seal stopped. Bumperdiebump! Rocks, holes, logs,
dead animals … we just couldn’t imagine what kind of chauffeur it
takes to keep up the pace of 160 Km/h. No matter how hard I tried.
After another hour or so there was tar seal again! Hurray.
Nevertheless the bends and the trucks coming our way (half on our
side of the road) still made it a mission impossible to reach even
an average of 50 Km/h. We were not in a hurry, except we would get
there in the middle of the night and we would have to leave straight
away to get back to Lusaka. That is, if Erwin wanted to get to the
office on Monday morning, ironed and all.
Suddenly the road got wider and we reached what seemed to be a truck
stop. There must have been a hundred trucks along the side, people
selling stuff everywhere, whores and screaming men. The chaos
reminded me of a harbour. It was like being home! We let nothing get
in our way and kept on rolling the mighty wheels of “our little
tanky” (reet sis wis a Cherman accent). We dodged obstacles and
people, went past some sort of big gate and over a bridge. The
bridge was amazing. Erwin was leaning dangerously out of the window
taking pictures of the Zambezi River. The falls were close now, we
could feel it. The safari had begun. There were people in uniform
with Kalashnikov’s everywhere, but they didn’t do anything. At the
end of the bridge there was a sign: Welcome to Zimbabwe. Mmh… That’s
not what we meant. But no worries, with screaming tyres we made a U-ie
and back we were on the bridge! Easy. This time the man with “se
little veppen” stopped us.
He
wanted to know why we ignored him just before.
“Oh,
sorry man! We didn’t realize. Anyway… going now. Byeeee!!”
The
pedal to metal, the sun shining outside, the river blazing under
us…what more do want?? At the end of the bridge this time the gate
was closed.
A man
with a uniform, with more stripes and golden flaps, came out of a
little cubicle. He wanted to talk to us. What we were doing. In
complete astonishment we explained that we were on our way to the
waterfalls. He asked to see our stamp from Zimbabwe in our
passports.
“No
sir, you don’t understand. It’s like this: we never were IN
Zimbabwe, we took the wrong road and turned the car around straight
away. Look, I’ve got the Lonely Planet on my lap...”
“But
does this international uniform not mean ANYTHING to you??”
O oh.
Don’t f… with the power. We are not in Holland, you know…
We
stuttered something that came down to “No disrespect intended” and
added something to clarify that we didn’t take the wrong way round
for the fun of it.
“But
the road to Livingstone is more that 80 Km back”
“That’s even worse, sir!!!”
“MMppfffrickingtouristaaaaarggghh-OUT-OF-MY-SIGHT!” and we could go.
In
the meantime I had sunk into a world in which Erwin was clinging
onto jail bars, his butt on the cold floor, his back wounded by whip
lashes, screaming for a cigarette. (Yes, because we still don’t
smoke. And it’s hard. Don’t do it).
When
Erwin sat next to me again, tears filled my eyes. I was extra
thankful.
We
drove back. A few hours later we saw a gigantic sign on our left:
LIVINGSTONE. Another 50 Km and we were back in Lusaka. But on the
other side of that sign (for who’s coming FROM Lusaka!) it said
nothing, except a colourful ad for some washing detergent. So, I
gather that “Straight on!” actually means: “After 50 Km out of
Lusaka, turn sharply to the right at the OMO sign”.
In
the end we finally reached the Victoria Falls.
That
weekend became like a honeymoon to us and we are extra thankful also
to the authorities for the fright.
The following Monday Erwin sat behind his desk, on time, all ironed,
a changed man
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November
2006