The Honey Badger Does Its Maiden Long Haul To Zimbabwe

I am not a procrastinator by nature; I can’t multitask. This blog has been in the works for a while now; unfortunately, Murphy had a hand in the delay. I must confess that the past couple of months since my last blog have been hectic, with unexpected delays and last-minute preparations. I hope to catch up and share the latest news, highs and lows, along with practical tips for managing travel chaos. So, without further delay, I wish you all a very prosperous, adventure-filled year. Let's keep the pedal to the metal and the miles of tarmac rolling under our tyres. I hope my stories inspire your own adventures.

At last, we managed to complete our snag list. We ticked all the boxes. New tyres, grand they are. New custom-made rims. A winch, a godsend. A sat phone from Judy at Zippisat, excellent service and a good deal too. The sat phone was delivered by courier, with a couple of free minutes to test it.

Border crossings can be tricky, but with patience and preparation, they become part of the adventure, helping you feel more confident when facing travel challenges.

Stocked with provisions for a month. If the shelves at Woolies were bare, you knew where to look. I downloaded a couple of favourite recipes and prepped a few staples for the lean days when we ran out of fresh produce. We pickled onions, made Labneh (Greek yoghurt cheese), made Biltong, roasted Rosa tomatoes and preserved them in olive oil, made tomato sauce, and grilled and preserved aubergine, mushrooms and courgettes.

Pre-cooked staples such as onions, garlic and mushrooms for casseroles. Measured spices for curries and casseroles and stored them in small containers. Stocked up on stone-ground flours for bread, scones and pancakes. Pre-cooked Confit of duck à l'orange, portioned, vacuum-packed and froze all fresh meat in order of use.

Packing for a six-week trip is no mean feat, given that we’d be out of range for at least a month: no shops, no markets, no Woolworths, no Van Blommenstein’s butchery. Not only did I have to see to a wardrobe—comfortable, easy to maintain and interchangeable—but I also had to attend to my personal grooming. The week before our departure was a circus. It was the perfect time to perfect The List. Visits to the pedicurist, hairdresser, doctor, dentist and dairy to find litres of cream for my hand-churned butter. It made me realise how much planning and care go into these journeys, and I hope it resonates with your own travel preparations.

We had all our bases covered. Packing was relatively easy; it was summer north of Johannesburg, and I had been to Mozambique in May. I could halve the T-shirts and shorts and take only one bather and a wrap. My entire wardrobe had to fit into three small zip-up bags, stowed in a small overhead locker and a tiny 8-hanger wardrobe.

Fortunately, we had friends with us for the first fortnight of our trip, so Marie and I shared supper duties. We set up a timetable with my turns scheduled. All I had to see to were our breakfasts, lunches and the appointed suppers. Menus had to be simple, with only a few ingredients; there was no space for leftovers unless they were for our lunches the next day. Rusks with our morning coffee were a treat; I had one, and Butch had two; 3 x 30 = 90 rusks were packed. A slap on the wrist if one of us stepped over the mark.

With a tiny kitchen and 3 hatches for groceries, I had to pack meticulously for convenience—five drawers in various sizes for kitchen utensils, linens, pots and pans, crockery, and appliances. There’s no room for extravagance; it's shape up or ship out. I did manage to squeeze in a few comforts, e.g. coffee grinders, BIBO, a water spritzer, a yoghurt maker, an electric beater, and a Consol Jar for bean sprouts. A girl has to have fun in her kitchen, too.

The luxury of motorhome living is sleeping in one’s own bed. The smell of my own linens, my favourite down pillow, my lovely duvet, and a snuggly throw make up for any discomfort I might encounter along the way. A friend even made a beautiful throw from all my extra knitted squares. My heavy Indian cotton throw brightened our space, kept us cool at night, and didn't need ironing.

On this trip, the highlight has certainly been our showers. Every evening we luxuriated in a hot outdoor shower. Lit by the Milky Way, we wallowed like hippos. With warm skin and fresh feet, we slipped under our covers only to be eaten alive by the midges! We tried everything. Open windows, no lights; closed windows with outside lights; lamps; citronella candles; Doom; Peaceful Sleep; battened-down hatches; closed windows, no lights. But the buggers still got me. I am sure the bumps and bites on my arms, legs, face, feet and even my palms would read like Braille.

Fortunately, we encountered no zing of mosquitoes, but the Tsetse flies made up for that. They had a habit of sneaking up on us, settling weightlessly on a spot, then, bang, a painful, burning sting. They were relentless, too, and hard to kill. I became quite adept at swinging my flip-flops at them and giving them a hard smack. Sometimes I succeeded. They were so sneaky and could almost outrun us on the rutted roads.

Butch, of course, was tasked with getting us to Mana Pools safely and in one piece. Before setting off, he checked every detail: the truck, our camping gear, his toolbox for a breakdown, and all the paperwork. Anyone who’s done a border crossing knows that unless one is 101% prepared for any eventuality, a bored official, in pursuit of mischief, could be one's undoing. We had all our I’s dotted and T’s crossed. Just before setting off, Butch heard about a FREE service the Zimbabwe Tourism Association is offering: an agent, trained to make a tourist’s journey as pain-free as possible, can be hired to help at Beit Bridge. We did just that. I was pleasantly surprised, and we made our way through customs quickly and effortlessly. It was crystal clear that protocol has changed and that visitors are more welcome in Zimbabwe than ever. Police at roadblocks had the same message, and they waved us through without a single stop.

Since our last visit, the official currency has been the Zimbabwe Bond. It was initially traded at an exchange rate equivalent to the US Dollar. At first, there was resistance to the new currency, as it has no value outside the country’s borders. All reports indicated we could purchase Zim Bonds at 30% less than the current US Dollar exchange rate, which sounded attractive, since Zim Bonds are accepted everywhere.

I would recommend doing so once in Zimbabwe. But do not take any home; they will have no value and will probably be impossible to trade. So limit your purse. We are selective when paying in US Dollars, preferring to honour our debt to Zimbabweans personally so that they may reap the benefits of the exchange rate.

Since our visit, the Zimbabwe Bond has crashed and is rumoured to be worthless. Only US Dollars are accepted. It feels surreal to write about a trip to Zimbabwe, knowing there's a "Civil war" underway as I type, with only brief contact with Zimbabweans. I hope matters can be resolved with as little loss of life as possible. Zimbabwe deserves to be free.

The Honey Badger lived up to all our expectations as we whizzed along from Beit Bridge to Mana Pools at a steady pace.

I look forward to a very exciting year; we will be grandparents again. It's off to see the new little one, attend a baby shower, await the stork's delivery, and attend a wedding, which means I'm busy contributing to the layette and delving into old boxes to find photographs of my daughter, who never does anything in small measure.