Life On The Road - Road Tripping Roadies Part 2 Zambia
This leg of our journey began in Tanzania, where we embarked on a road trip to explore the rich culture and history of Mbali, in Zambia, and its surrounding areas. This is the second part of our adventure, where we continue to uncover the hidden gems of this region.
Please indulge me. Sunflowers will forever remind me of Ukraine, its brave Prime Minister Zelensky, and its people.
There’s an Afrikaans song by Dozi titled “Daars ‘n berg tussen my en jou” (There’s a mountain between you and me.) The music evokes two sentiments: you either like or loathe it and find it ridiculously annoying. This morning, I told Butch that if I should pop my clogs, he’s to inscribe Patience or Persistence on my headstone, or Serenity will do if that’s too lengthy/costly. There’s a mountain between me and data connectivity, and I’m beginning to lose my placidity.
I am not alone in this: “Before you marry a person, you should first make them use a computer with slow internet service to see who they really are.”—Will Ferrell.
I am not alone in this: “Before you marry a person, you should first make them use a computer with slow internet service to see who they really are.”—Will Ferrell.
Let’s step into the Honey Badger and resume our journey. Inside my cocoon in the cab, all my troubles are left behind. There’s only one way to go, and it’s moving forward. So, “let’s enjoy life. It has an expiration date”.
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Stuck away out of sight of the hotel’s guests, we slept like babies after our exhausting day driving from Tanzania. After a leisurely morning spent in my pyjamas, I was ready to tackle a day exploring Mbala.
While Butch was brewing our morning coffee and retrieved the last of our rusks, I did some reading and learned these interesting facts about Mbala.
While Butch was brewing our morning coffee and retrieved the last of our rusks, I did some reading and learned these interesting facts about Mbala.
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Before Colonial times, Mbala was the village of Chief Zombe on the Lucheche River. It became the focus of British interest in the 1880s because explorer David Livingstone inspired missionaries of the London Missionary Society to Niamkolo on the lake and Fwambo and Kawimbe on the plateau. These missions had links to the African Lakes Company, which was later set up in Mbala and Mpulungu.
The slave trade ravaged the area during the 19th Century, and the African Lakes Company made some efforts to stamp slavery out. The British Government and Harry Johnston in Nyasaland decided to strengthen the imperial presence south of the lake to prevent other colonial powers from establishing a foothold there.
Sir Edwin Lutyens designed the Mbala War Memorial, where von Lettow-Vorbeck formally surrendered at the end of the First World War. (In almost all my research, it seems Von Lettow-Vorbeck had to surrender, no matter which East African country I was reading about. If it was once a German colony and then a British Protectorate, old VLV surrendered there!)
The colonial era began in Mbala in 1893, earlier than in most other areas of Zambia, when Johnston sent Hugh Marshall as the British Consul for the area. Marshall built a well-fortified boma at Chief Zombe's village and acted as Magistrate and Postmaster. In 1895, the British South Africa Company took over the administration of the territory and called it North-Eastern Rhodesia, and the 'Zombe boma' became known as Abercorn, named after the company chairman.
British administrators favoured the site as being healthy and having a pleasant climate with plenty of hunting and fishing. Until Britain took over German East Africa in 1919, Tanganyika, Abercorn, and the smaller Chiengi boma on Lake Mweru were the most northerly outposts of British southern Africa.
During WW1, Mbala was the focus of the unsuccessful British military effort to defeat German General von Lettow-Vorbeck’s German army, and British forces were concentrated there. After Germany's surrender in Europe, von Lettow-Vorbeck surrendered at Mbala on 25 November 1918, though he had agreed on a ceasefire at the Chambeshi River 250 km south nine days earlier. Following the surrender ceremony, the German troops were ordered to throw their weapons into Lake Chila.
Polish refugees from General Anders' army arrived during World War 2 and were housed in a camp. A cemetery with Polish tombstones testifies to this.
After Zambia's independence in 1964, the town's name was changed back to Mbala.
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With my bag flung across my shoulders, my hat firmly wedged on my noggin, we set off to buy new Zambian SIM cards loaded with data to communicate with the outside world.
There were dozens of stalls, but we decided to support Mike, who had us sorted in a jiffy while his neighbour’s inquisitive baby, safely behind bars, caught my attention. Butch did the necessary.
I took up Butch’s offer for a coffee and a light lunch on the veranda of the Mbala Cultural Gift Shop owned by a Jamaican lady who is an ardent fan of Bob Marley.
Her devotion is visible everywhere and adds an exotic touch to her gift shop and Bistro. Lunch was a traditional meal of a maize bun dipped into a spicy tomato and goat meat sauce, served with a fresh, crispy salad.
She told us that since its heyday as a colonial town in the 1950s and early 60s, Mbala has suffered some decline and lost out in development to the provincial capital, Kasama, and Mpika, which have better road and rail connections.
Although the Mbala area has fertile soil and plenty of water, it is far from urban markets, and transport costs limit the viability of most crops. Similarly, while it has tourist potential, it is too far off the main tourist routes, and the poor state of the main highway and the lack of regular air services discourage visitors.
She added that despite its challenges, Mbala remains resilient and strives towards a brighter future. The town's recent steps towards conflict resolution offer hope for development and inspire her with their determination.
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Sundays are quiet days when townsfolk enjoy time spent with family and friends, but we were entertained by two girls who eagerly showed me around the shop and then, as a reward, asked me to take a few photographs of them. I was happy to oblige.
Being aware of activities around us has often paid off, and again, I was intrigued by the barber who set up shop on the pavement. Within a few minutes, his first client and chain-smoking sidekick arrived, who, much to his friend’s discomfort, instructed the barber while waving his cigarette around.
The town is at the plateau's edge, about 900 m higher than Lake Tanganyika, within 22 km as the crow flies. The escarpment above the lake is the end of the Albertine Rift, the western branch of the East Africa Rift. It is said that the Mbala area experiences occasional tremors.
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Butch was determined to be at the Revenue Office first thing on Monday morning. We were up with the cockerels, and long before 8h00, he was queuing at their door.
According to the rules, he had to state our route accurately, and our tax would be determined based on our entry and exit points.
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Although we did not accept the offer to visit Lake Chila, I believe Mbala's allure is not just about its natural wonders but also its unique charm. The town's tiny but picturesque Lake Chila, with its inexplicable drying out and sudden flooding from underground springs, adds a touch of intrigue to Mbala's geography, making it a fascinating area to explore, we were told.
We would later learn that one of the most significant natural wonders in Mbala is the Kalambo Falls, the second-highest waterfall in Africa. Located about 40 km northwest, it is formed where the Kalambo River comes over the Rift Valley escarpment. This awe-inspiring sight not only adds to the area's natural beauty but also serves as a testament to its rich geological history, making it a must-see for any history enthusiast or nature lover.
Unfortunately, we would not linger to explore.
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Mbala is on the old Great North Road north of Kasama. Although paved, the road is in poor condition, with long stretches reverting to dirt. This information is crucial for tourists planning their trip to Mbala. Sometimes, I had to alight the truck to show the way across very narrow strips of "road", afraid our truck would plunge into a donga or ravine.
Mbala is 25 km from the border with Tanzania and connected by a dry-season road to one of only two road border crossings between the two countries. It is not used often, and the road beyond the border is a dirt track impassable during the rainy season.
The condition of the roads confirmed that the Mbala district has a consistently mild climate and clear wet and dry seasons. The wet season, from November to April, experiences high humidity and significant rainfall, whereas the dry season, from May to October, is marked by minimal precipitation.
We were soon climbing Senga Hill, where dark clouds were gathering. Entrepreneurial children take it upon themselves to patch the road, hoping to score a few cents from motorists. Unfortunately, I think their labour is often taken for granted, and most people, although grateful, just whiz by with an appreciative wave.
At midday, we passed through Kasama but decided to overnight at Bayama’s Lodge, just off the main road on the outskirts of Mpika.
The following day, we set off early once again.
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In Serenje Butch echoed Barbara Johnson when the Honey Badger’s left back wheel needed attention. “Patience is the ability to idle your motor when you feel like stripping your gears.”
I believe that all travellers in Africa will agree with me when I say that a roadside mechanic can accomplish anything, often with the most basic equipment when needs must.
I used the opportunity to go shopping for fresh vegetables and salad greens. We stopped off for the best chicken shwarmas at a Service station along the road, a generous portion packed with flavour. In my notes, I said, “Best meal yet!” My takeaway coffee certainly got a thumbs-up from me.
We’d read great reviews about a campsite in Mkushi on Shigu Farm.
Although we had been warned that the Google coordinates were inaccurate and that we’d be taken on a wild goose chase around the countryside, we didn’t mind.
We arrived at the main homestead late in the afternoon and were escorted to the campsite on the irrigation dam just before sunset.
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If this campsite were featured in a documentary, it would be titled Camping On The Lake. It features a large communal dining room, fire pit, tasteful ablutions, and well-kept gardens.
Hugo and Linde Meintjes, our hosts, couldn’t be more charming or hospitable. Once we’d settled, Hugo came around to introduce himself, and like an old friend, we chatted while the fire crackled and spat and sent sparks flying into the cloudless blue evening.
We’d previously camped on Hugo’s brother’s farm near Lusaka and had tales of our delightful stay there. I always smile when I remember our visit to the local market with Marleen, in whose Toyota Rav we tore down the road at breakneck speed, zigzagging potholes, pedestrians and puddles along the busy motorway. This was the fastest I’d travelled in over a year, and I must confess I was on the edge of my seat.
We spent three nights on Shigu farm. We explored the farmlands on our bikes, getting lost and venturing further than we thought onto neighbouring farms for an exhilarating ride.
Linde delivered a basket of the freshest farm produce, a dozen newly laid eggs and a sprig of flowers. I was delighted with our cache, and that night, we enjoyed a five-star meal overlooking a bravura blood orange sunset.
Over coffee, I told Linde, a keen photographer, camper, and overlander, about our connectivity woes. She had the answer to all my problems, she declared. Her recommendation, an eSIM.
It was no sooner said than done, and she had the Application downloaded on my phone. I subscribed and paid a hefty fee for a month’s limitless data.
Not so fast. As luck would have it, my phone, purchased in Uganda, could not set up an eSIM. Fortunately, I could cancel my subscription immediately. It was such an anticlimax on a perfect day. I have since learned that my cellphone provider, Vodacom, can fix things, after which I'll be able to install an eSIM, making life a lot easier. Of course, Starlink (available in Zambia and, by all accounts, fantastic) is the ultimate answer to all our woes, but right now, that is out of the question.
The temperate climate is ideal for cultivating old-fashioned perfumed roses, and Linde, with her green fingers, produces bunches of marshmallow blooms for her daily vases. I look forward to seeing her beautiful, long-stemmed, perfumed Victorian roses on Instagram.
Alas, it was time to resume our journey. Thank you, Hugo and Linde, for your hospitality, kindness, and the fresh produce and gifts so generously bestowed upon us. I know you will make it onto Butch’s daily postings group, and we certainly will keep in contact and can’t wait to see you in the Western Cape during the summer of 2025.
I found it fascinating to see how many centre pivots there were in that area. This fertile land produces hundreds of hectares of wheat, corn, and other crops. On further inspection one can see the abundance of streams and rivers flowing from the surrounding hills and highlands.
There is something special about a lane of trees, and I find them irresistible. They lead my eyes to a Center Point or make me feel safe and cocooned. Who knows? My shutter finger snaps a good corridor of trees every time.
Yet here's the conundrum: I am always on about alien trees and especially acerbic about the Australian Eucalyptus tree. I will be the first person to drone on and remind everyone that there is anecdotal evidence that a large gum tree growing near water can suck up 1000 litres of water daily (probably an exaggeration). Still, they love water, and some say, "They threaten to drink South Africa dry", yet I find their mottled, smooth or gnarled grey and cream trunks attractive and their perfume comforting. They're photogenic and excellent subjects for a landscape. These personal reflections enhance my connection to nature, and I'm sure many of you can relate to this feeling.
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Our route would take us back to Lusaka, where Butch needed to do some more maintenance work on the wheels—the bane of our lives.
There were many detours along the Lusaka highway, and we pulled into the Fig Tree Café for lunch. Here, one can stock up on homemade preserves, jams, fresh produce, nibbles, and delicious full-cream double-thick yoghurt. The Chappies bubblegum reminded me of my childhood. I've outgrown bubble gum and blowing bubbles, so a packet did not go into my basket. I filled a basket with grown-up goodies and knew my fridge would bulge—all things nice for the weekend.
We had a scrumptious chicken wrap and a well-deserved coffee milkshake for lunch. We were throwing caution to the wind. I only glanced at the curios, knowing I could not push my luck. By the way, Cheeky Chilli Lemon Sauce is a delicious condiment and my all-time favourite chilli sauce right now. Its spicy bite and super citrusy flavour lift every bite up a notch.
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It was Friday, and I was not enthusiastic about spending the weekend near the busy city. Fortunately, Butch agreed. We pressed on to spend the weekend at River View Farm with Natalie on the Kafue River.
Natalie, formerly from the USA, has made her home here on the Kafue River, where mokoros, speedboats and fishermen in small boats ply the river for fun or their catch of the day.
We sliced the pawpaw Innocent brought us for breakfast and served it with a squeeze of lemon, a generous dollop of delicious yoghurt and organic honey. (I have always believed all honey is organic, but that is not the case with many commercial jars of honey in Supermarkets. We must read the labels the fundis say.)
Sunsets are sublime, and the curry Natalie prepared and shared with us was delicious and the perfect ending to our stay.
Oh, Natalie, you are the perfect hostess, and we loved every minute in your company; you have many tales to tell, and you do it so well. One of Butch’s favourite meals is a good curry, and you nailed it!
We eagerly await your message to say you are on the next flight to Cape Town. To reciprocate your hospitality, we’ll pick you up at the airport and show you around Town. Who knows, there might be another Mining Indaba in Cape Town shortly.
I know we all find Social Media annoying, but I, for one, cherish the friendships I’ve made. Thanks to the convenience of WhatsApp, Facebook, and Instagram, we can keep up with our friends this way.
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On Monday, it was back to reality and bustling Lusaka to have the Honey Badger’s wheels checked. We knew we were in capable hands when we realised these guys are tyre and wheel fundis whose primary clients are the whopping wheels and tyres on excavation trucks and mining equipment.
If I remember correctly, it was nothing serious—just a slow leak which was soon patched up, and we could be on our way to our next overnight stay at Parays Animal Sanctuary.
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Parays Animal Sanctuary is a local institution and a favourite weekend getaway for day trippers from Lusaka.
This family-owned farm, wildlife reserve and lodge managed by the original owner’s son Willem, is a treat for families keen on doing game drives or relaxing in a deck chair. They can picnic under a large umbrella tree while giraffe, gazelle and zebra graze across the plain. If you’re lucky, you’ll hear the lions roar during the night. We woke up to a donkey, horse, and a herd of Impala grazing near our doorstep.
Many reviews mention Sundays as a fun day with lots of action while families enjoy the pool and their picnics.
I am delighted to read that renovations are taking place. The tired facilities need a good facelift.
We spent only one evening at Parays before deciding to move on. The animals, big cats’ nighttime shenanigans, and early morning bird song motivated us to move on to a “real” game reserve.
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The landscape changes once again as the days become clearer and warmer. The road to Mumbwe is tarred and in pretty good condition, but our past encounters linger, and we don’t take advantage of the better roads; speeding is a no-no; experience has taught us that a pothole can appear out of the blue. There are no verges, and the sharp edges and sudden drop from the tar to the gravel cut like a knife into sidewalls. We’ll take it slow. Our misgivings were not unfounded, and two hours later, the road deteriorated, proving us right.
After two hours of battling degraded roads, we called it a day and pulled into a gate just off the road near a lake to wild camp for the night. We were to find out that this was a lodge, closed at the time, but the caretaker/security officer allowed us to camp under a large mango tree after he’d pruned some low-hanging branches.
Although we were not expected to pay anything, we did pay a stipend to the lady who opened a restroom for us to use and the kind security guard who watched over us that night.
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Mushrooms, I hollered; this time, I was determined to buy wild mushrooms, and we’d cook them. Butch recognised that tone of voice and knew he had no choice but to stop.
Ladies ran out from where they’d been foraging for mushrooms and encircled us with their enamel basins filled with earthy, fresh, brown, and yellow-capped mushrooms.
After our last disastrous mushroom escapade, I investigated and discovered that mushrooms have an earthy, woody, or nutty smell, e.g. almond or hazelnuts, or a fruity apricot-like sweetness, or even a peculiar fishy smell. The perfume of a wild mushroom can be influenced by its species, age, and growing environment. Some mushrooms have a more pronounced odour than others, and certain species, such as the aromatic matsutake mushroom, are even sought after for their distinct fragrances. The smell of wild mushrooms can play a key role in their identification and culinary use.
Mongu is renowned for its wild mushrooms and, believe it or not, Kalahari Truffles, which locals call Sondwe. We could pick and choose because in this neck of the woods, there are dozens of other varieties, and if you’re lucky, there are mushrooms with caps the size of bicycle wheels.
We stocked up, and that night, dinner was garlicky fried mushrooms on buttered toast. They were mouthwateringly divine. I could freeze prepared mushrooms in Ziploc bags to use in pasta sauces.
Locals harvest and sell the mushrooms to dealers, and dried mushrooms are sold in the local markets. On a previous trip, we’d stocked up on dried mushrooms from the market, which were divine in my Risottos.
There is a campaign encouraging locals to forage for mushrooms instead of chopping down trees for charcoal, which is a huge industry but damaging to forests due to the indiscriminate use of trees.
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Mongu is situated on a small blunt promontory of higher ground on the eastern edge of the 30-kilometre-wide Barotse Floodplain of the Zambezi River running north-south. The Barotse Floodplain floods right up to the city limits in the rainy season. The city is 15 kilometres from the river's main channel, to which its small harbour is connected in the dry season by a 35-kilometre route via a canal and a meandering channel. The region is flat and sandy, with dry land no more than 50m higher than the floodplain.
Three ecoregions are represented in Mongu and its vicinity: the floodplain comprises Zambezian flooded grassland. At the same time, the higher dry ground is a mosaic of Central Zambezian Miombo woodlands and Cryptosepalum* dry forests. The soil is very sandy to the east, and many pans dry out in the dry season. Beyond the Lui River, no surface water is available, so this zone of scrubby Miombo woodland is practically uninhabited as far east as the Luampa River.
*Cryptosepalum is a genus of flowering plants in the family Fabaceae. There are 12 species, primarily trees. They are native to sub-Saharan Africa, ranging from Guinea to Tanzania, Mozambique, Zambia and Angola.
Mongu lies at the end of the Lusaka-Mongu Road from Lusaka. The road to Kalabo, the Barotse Floodplain Causeway, was completed and opened in 2016. It is also at the end of the M10 Road, which connects it to the Katima Mulilo Border with Namibia and Livingstone.
The city is known for basket and carpet weaving and produces the best mangoes and fish in the country, especially tiger fish. Mongu is also a prolific rice-growing region. Subsistance farmers also have kitchen gardens producing vegetables.
The city has a cathedral and a water tower. It also boasts several shopping and social places and a large market. We were told that the Mongu Airport is mainly used by the Zambian Air Force and the United Nations to relocate Angolan Refugees back to Angola.
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We would camp at the Mutoya Campsite, Village of Hope, a church, school, orphanage, and mission base managed by South Africans Carine and Kevin. They were invaluable and knowledgeable about the district.
Enjoying the sunset overlooking the valley below allowed us to catch up with our messages. This would not be our first time climbing a hill to get a reasonable internet signal. The sunset was fantastic, but getting messages and photos of our grandchildren tops the list.
Carine told us that if we were lucky, we might see the King's Royal Barge arrive with its entourage.
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Each year, at the beginning of autumn, the Kuomboka procession bursts into a spectacular array of vibrant colours, rhythmically beating drums, and reverberating chants.This annual event signifies the Litunga’s (Lozi King) move from his summer residence in Lealui to his winter home, situated on higher ground, away from the seasonal floodplains in Limulunga.
Kuomboka means ‘to get out of the water’.The traditional ceremony occurs when the upper Zambezi River floods the plains of the Western Province.The ceremony is preceded by heavy drumming of the royal Maomadrums, which echoes around the royal capital the day before Kuomboka, announcing the event.The King begins the day in traditional dress. But, during the journey, he changes into the full uniform of a British admiral, as awarded to King Litunga in 1902 by King Edward VII.
The ceremony begins when two white scout canoes are sent to check the water's depth and scout for foes. Once the scouts signal the “all clear”, the journey to the highland begins. The King’s wife’s barge follows the Litunga’s royal barge and then the Prime Minister’s flatboat. The trip to Limulunga takes approximately 6–8 hours. Drums beat throughout to coordinate and energise those sculling the barge. Three royal war drums – kanaona, munanga, and mundili – with a diameter of more than a metre and said to be 170 years old, beat rhythmically.
The Litunga is accompanied by his Prime Minister and other local chiefs known as the Indunas. The King’s state barge is called Nalikwanda and is painted black and white, in keeping with Zambia’s coat of arms. On the barge is a replica of a giant black elephant whose ears can be moved from inside the barge. There is also a fire on board, the smoke tells the people that the king is alive and well. The Nalikwanda is large enough to carry his possessions, attendants, musicians, and 100 rowers. It is considered a great honour to be one of the hundred or so paddlers on the Nalikwanda, and each paddler wears a scarlet beret with a tuft of a lion’s mane and a knee-length skirt of animal skins.
There is a second barge for his wife. This one is adorned with a vast cattle egret (Nalwange) whose wings move up and down like the ears of an elephant.
Unfortunately, this is an event that is not to be missed. We missed the spectacle but were fortunate to see the barge anchored in the small harbour.
Please note: Photo acknowledgement of the King’s barge and the ceremony: Lusaka Times and Mongu Municipal Post.
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The thought that we were heading for the border and the Caprivi sent shivers down my spine. Was this the beginning of the end of our travels? Butch was still in two minds about the future of our travels. At the last minute, he took a left turn in Kalabo; no, he said we’re not ready to leave Zambia just yet. Let’s see what the Luawa Plains can dish up. A sigh of relief escaped me. I thought I could hold things together as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
Banksy says, “Enjoy life; it has an expiration date.” It seems that our travels also have an expiration date. I am gutted at the thought.
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