Zambia, the achingly tough reality

After the serene sanctuary of Wildlife Camp and the park, I was faced with the difficult decision of how to get out of there. The options included:

1. Flying back to Lusaka for about $250;
2. Hiring a taxi to Chipata for about $100;
3. Taking the one and only daily minibus to Chipata at 1 a.m. for about $8; or
4. Hitching a ride.

I deliberated for quite some time and ultimately chose option 2. For such a key tourist attraction, I assumed that there would be some sort of proper bus service, but alas, no. Although $100 seemed like a steep price to pay, it turned out to be a good decision. The minibus was definitely last on the list, not least because I didn't want to travel at night with so many dangerous animals (especially elephants) in the area. Hitching could be a dubious prospect if I could even find a ride. Though I love flying, I realized I wouldn't see much of the country to return the same way.

So, the taxi ride...

Interesting is a good way to describe it. Moses and his friend Chris picked me up promptly at 7:30 on Thursday morning, as agreed. It is not often that things occur at the appointed hour here in Zambia so I was encouraged. The Toyota sedan had definitely seen better days but I didn't have much choice at that point. I moved toward the trunk of the car to put my bag away, but was told that it would go in the backseat because the trunk was full.

As we drove away from the camp, Moses asked if it would be ok if we picked up other passengers en-route. Seeing how difficult it is to arrange transportation, I agreed. For the first hour or so, it was just the three of us in the car. Initially we talked about the differences between Canada and Zambia and got into some discussions about the serious poverty issues affecting the area, as well as the necessary political leadership to make things better. Moses asked me a very interesting and difficult question at one point: “Why is it so difficult for our people to get visas to Canada or America, but so easy for your people to come here?” I'm not sure I answered the question very well.

Apparently, politicians have been promising for years to improve the road from Mfuwe to Chipata but virtually nothing has happened. And it showed. The road is a rutted and potholed mess for almost the entire 300 km. We passed many picturesque, but obviously dirt poor communities along the way. It was good for me to see this. Judging by the condition of the road, I was delighted that I hadn't cheaped out and gone in the minibus overnight. It would have been an uncomfortable and hair-raising ride.

After an hour, a group of ladies and children appeared at the side of the road, waving frantically. Moses stopped to find out what was going on. One of the children was very sick and needed to get to the clinic in the next town, about 45 minutes away. Naturally, we found room for the sick child and his grandmother. As we drove on, I asked Moses how much a clinic visit would cost – about K10,000 ($2). At the clinic, the grandmother and grandson got out and I offered her some money to pay for the clinic visit and the trip back, for which she was quite grateful.

The experience made me feel rather humbled about having had a vacation in the first place. It gave me an entirely different perspective on my worries about which form of transportation I should be so lucky to opt for. It's clear that most people have no options. We picked up a mother and son in Mambwe after dropping off the grandmother and child. My bag at this point was sitting across the knees of the backseat passengers. This was another tough moment of guilt for me, which I tried to rationalize based on the fact I'd paid 90% of the fare for the journey. Not necessarily the best justification, I know.

Part way along, we stopped for some assistance to refill and re-seal the radiator, and to refill the gas tank using Moses' jerry cans, which were stored in the trunk. Anyways, after more than five solid hours on the road, we reached Chipata. Hungry for lunch, I might add. I mentioned stopping somewhere to get lunch and Moses said something along the lines of, “And for us too”. Why not? We found a typical Zambian restaurant where I treated Moses and Chris to nshima and chicken and a Coke. After blessing the meal, we wolfed down the food with great gusto. We parted ways and I wished them well for the journey back to Mfuwe.