The Long Journey

So after days of training and bussing my way down from Dar es Salaam into Zambia, I am nearing my destination: Victoria Falls in Livingstone, at the southern tip of Zambia. The train was an interesting experience to say the least. Mostly it was just long though! I arrived just a mere 20 minutes before the train was set to depart in typical African time fashion due to horrendous traffic (Dar is similar to Kampala in that lovely way!) and in a frantic attempt to change my remaining Tanzanian schillings to US dollars because I was told by a fellow traveler that TZ schillings would be useless after the Zambian border and it would impossible to change them. One thing that is great in some ways but also unfortunate about travelling in Africa is that the guide books are often so inadequate as Africa is still a relatively unexplored place compared to Asia, for example, and also countries are rapidly developing, unraveling, and the like. In one way this adds to the “adventure factor,” in another way, I just want some answers please!!!

I was in a second class compartment with 4 teenage Tanzanian girls and their chaperone (mother?), who were all incredibly sweet but shall we say talkative-- so that had me considering a switch to first class (the difference of about $15 from my $40 dollar ticket. First class was full but one passenger was set to disembark in a few hours time, so then I could switch. Then African time really started to takeover. The train remained stationary for three hours. Not off to a great start for the first night; it was looking like the estimates of a 40 hour train ride were wishful thinking to say the least. I had some beers (Kilimanjaro) with two South African guys and an American now living in Finland who were on their way to Malawi which was accessed via Mbeya just north of the Malawi border. I went back to my cabin and crawled up onto a middle bed and passed out in my clothes as it was dark and I couldn’t be bothered to find my things is the overcrowded cabin, after using an eastern style toilet with the train in motion mind you—not easy!

I woke up the next morning and had my provisions of bread, peanut butter, bananas, and mango juice that I had picked up before the train ride in case of no food, or really just food that would create stomach issues that might make a long train ride less enjoyable. I spent the rest of the day sitting in the first class lounge with large red comfy velvet chairs staring out the window at the lovely landscape and reading Out of Africa—how appropriate, huh? The Mbeya people were set to disembark at 1pm but we didn’t end up arriving until 9pm. And I was told that I could expect to arrive at 10 pm the following day as opposed to 10am as scheduled. Yikes! Everyone in my cabin had gotten off at Mbeya which made me happy until I was told by the conductor personally that it was unsafe for me to stay alone because northern Zambia was unsafe and people may try to break in an rob me. Great. So after a pathetic attempt to talk him into letting me move up to first class due to the delay, I was placed in a different second class compartment with a Tanzanian woman, Gati, who was on her way to Gabarone. She ended up being my saving grace.

When we finally crossed the Tanzania-Zambia border, immigration just never came, not on the TZ side or the ZAM side. There was some rattling of the door in the night and I woke up terrified a few times, but all was fine. Customs came by but no immigration. We woke up the next morning when a nun came to share our compartment—a relief—and she was kind enough to keep an eye on my bags when I went to the first class lounge to read all day again and have my first Mosi (Zambian) beer. We finally arrived in Kapiri Mposhi—a small town a few hours north of the capital, Lusaka, thats main claim in the guide book is do whatever you can not to stay there. Immigration was closed however. Two strikes. Do we attempt to go to Lusaka and see immigration there or wait in Kapiri for fear of problems travelling in Zambia illegally. This ended up being true for the most part. We got a hotel room in Kapiri on the cheap and woke up the next day to visit the immigration office at the train station. Of course, after we finally managed to find the wandering immigration officer, theycompletely illogically blamed us for not getting our TZ and ZAM stamps. I was fuming inside. Also, my guide book was completely wrong and I had to pay $100 for a visa. I thought a transit visa was cheaper and had requested that, but when I found out it was the same price as a 3 year multiple entry visa, I of course wanted that. The woman said she couldn’t change it now that she had written it—WHY NOT? She’s the immigration officer for goodness sake! After calling headquarters on MY cell phone, they finally agreed to give in. Then they tried to make Gati buy them some sodas but she managed to get out of it because she had not Zambian money.

After our relative victory at the station, I got some Zambian money and Gati put me on a bus to Lusaka. I’m about to board the next and final bus to Livingstone—so I should finally be there tonight! I’m very ready for some downtime out of a moving vehicle.