Stage 5: Katima Mulilo - Livingstone

Because of the stomach bug, I passed Mapacha Airport in a blurr. Was rather sad as I so wanted to visit the Airport. My experience there during my army days had left me shaking and dazzled. With the airport 17 kilometers out of town and my physical state, I had my doubts of back tracking the next day for a 10 minute visit.


The rest day did me good. Soon I started to get hunger pangs, which is good and what ever I ate, stayed. Monday morning early I was ready to tackle the final stage. I had just oer 200 kilometers to go to Livingstone and the end of my journey. Clearing customs on the Namibian side was a breeze and I made a promise to myself that one day I will visit the country and fill in something diffirent than 'Bicycle' under mode of transport. As one crosses into Zambia things change drastically. The road deteriorate, the customs building is derelict with broken windows. Everything just changes into typical African Chaos, yet the people are very friednly and completely not aggressive. For once I blessed my South African Passport, I was cleared into Zambia without a question. Little did I realise just what was still ahead of me.

Because of my state when I arrived in Katima and crashing out for 3 hours, I did not get to the banks to draw money or exchange any money. Plus I left Katima well before the banks opened and though that I would be able to draw some dollars or Kwacha once I'm on the Zambian side. Wrong! There are no banks or ATM's on the Zambian side. I cycled into Sesheko and there is nothing. I had but 50 Nambian Dollars in my pocket for 3 days! Wild camping was definitely on the line unless I could find a lodge that took Credit Card or have internet banking so I could do an EFT payment.

Just out of Sesheko I had my first encounter with kids screaming 'Khu-wha'! (?) First I heard two little ones shouting 'Khu-wha' and waved friendly at them, the next moment the bushes started reverberating with the words, next moment, kids were 'peeling out' from no where shouting 'Khu-wha, khu-wha!!' I realised it had something to do with the fact that I am white. I just pedaled like crazy. They just kept comming. They would come running from 50 - 100meters away from the tar road shouting 'khu-wha'! No matter how hard I pedlaled, they just kept up with me for meters on end, barefoot!

Everytime I saw kids up ahead, I would slow down, to 'catch my breath', wait for the 'dreaded' khu-wha then start pedaling like crazy. It was like they had never seen a white person in their lives. Everytime I was abreast with a group shouting at me the requests would always me the same: give me sweets / I ask for food / Give me money. Soon I was cursing the bloody 4x4 tourist. They would feel pity for the little ones and give sweets, food etc. Only problem is that these little ones could not see those people were 'khu-wha's' till they stopped. I am vissible a hundred meters away! The fact that I was on a bicycle made no diffirence. Day one I 'flew' along on adrenaline.

At Katima I was told that Shackleton's Lodge is a great place to stay and it is only 3 kilomters from the tar road and the sand is not bad. (Never listen to people who drive 4x4's!) I found the turn off and was soon swearing and pushing my bicycle through thick sand. It took me an hour to do those 3 kilometers. Got a lift by two guys just 500meters from the lodge. The owner then asks one of her gentleman to take my bicycle through whilst she talks to the two guys who gave me a lift. I, in the mean time, got talking to 4 'elderly' ladies about my trip. Once Sally was done, I asked her if she had card facillities, no. Then she told me that I could not stay there for the night as the ladies and their husbands had booked out the whole lodge for a private get away and she could not take in other lodgers that is why the guys left as well, blah blah blah. She did direct me to another camp site just 5 (8)kilometers further down the tar road. She could not believe that it would take me an hour to get back to the tar road, it is only 3 kilometers. She then kindly asked a driver to give me a lift back to the tar road.

Found Mwandi quite easily and Paula had no problem with me pitching my tent and using their facilities. I was even invited to have super with them and she was only going to charge me R21 after I explained my financial situation. I could kick myself for not ensuring that I had sufficient funds with me. Bad mistake. I knew I had sufficient food with me and if I could find a place to wild camp I could get to Livingstone on R20. Paula also gave me some 'hints' on possible places close to Kazangula where I could possibly pitch my tent quite safely.

The screaming/shouting little ones were much less and less dauting on my way to Kazangula and to my luck I found a 'camp site' right on the side of the road. It used to be the old Rest Stop Camp Site that was started as a self development project, but it never really delevoped further than what it started out as. Still they had a few beers, TV, nice comfy couches, place I could cook and a nice sport for my tent. I also by luck found R100 I had stashed away in my emergency holder as well as 300 Namibian Dollars I had stuck in my Vacination Card! I was in bussiness. Just wish I could go back to Paula to pay her a little more for her kind hospitality.

Then all of a sudden my it was my last day on the road. I had only a short 60 kilometers to Livingstone. The few hills I was 'warned' about, I just sceemed over. Suddely from about 30 kilometers away one can see the 'smoke' of the falls and Livingstone was just there.

(Photo's will be uploaded this comming week plus more stories to share)