Leaving Macha

Today is the day that we left Macha and departed for Livingstone, Zambia, for a visit to nearby Victoria Falls in the coming days.  We made arrangements to travel to Choma, some 70km away from Macha via the Malaria Research Institute’s vehicle on Wednesday morning at 6am.  Depending on how many people or how much equipment needs to be transported, they take a different vehicle.  Today, we would be taking the very large flat-bed truck to Choma.  Anna managed to get situated behind another few people inside the cab designed for three people.  I was in the back with another gentleman, both of us sitting on a crude wooden bench nestled up against the very front of the 4 meter-long truck bed.  Our other “bed mates” were car parts: wheels with suspension linkages still attached, a bumper, and other parts from what looked to be a Toyota pickup.  I was not looking forward to a particularly comfortable voyage, but it seems that this was the mode of long-distance motorized transport for the vast majority of Zambians (of course not counting the significant, 100km+ journeys regularly made via foot and bicycle of the hospital patients).


Anna contemplates taking the last seat in the cab or one in the flatbed

We started along the dirt road at a reasonable pace until we got to the edge of town.  Then my bench-mate informed me that the car parts were from the recent tragic accident in which four people from the Malaria Institute were killed, stunning the entire village.  The car parts were in transit to the insurance appraiser.  Once outside the village limits, our rate of travel increased to what I would consider “breakneck.”  Given the fact that there were the remnants of another fatal accident right in front of us, I was admittedly a little nervous for the voyage, especially since we were traveling at well over 100km/hour on loose, sandy roads.  In fact, I was imagining the various ways how things might end if we careened off the road or encountered a herd of cattle or goats around a blind corner.  The more immediate travel issue though was the constant jarring of the potholes and jumping of all of the car parts in the back of the truck.  We slowed for the most severe rough patches in the road, and I quickly learned to dread any time the driver applied the brake.  About 40km of “improved jeep trail” lent another air of hardiness to the locals, who regularly take this into Choma.  Dang, they are tough stock!


Flatbed contents: two humans, luggage and car parts

We did of course survive the journey, and it gave me a true appreciations for how remote Macha actually is.  We arrived after two flat tires under cover of darkness, but now the Zambian countryside was illuminated the entire way.  In short, Macha is “about an hour from the middle of nowhere.”  John did mention how Macha came to be way out in the bush, but there is no other town or large village for many kilometers in every direction.  There are simply small villages of three to five clay or brick huts with thatched roofs.  There is the occasional school and church alongside the road, with students pouring in for their morning lessons.  After several weeks with semi-regular electricity, mostly running water and a corrugated roofed brick duplex to stay in, I lost my appreciation for just where we were: a small village in the remote bush of Zambia.


After 30 minutes of driving, the remoteness of Macha really sets in


Not shown: white knuckles

About halfway towards Choma, the road incredibly turns to pavement, one of the few paved roads in Zambia.  While this meant ever increasing rate of travel, the road was smooth and we quickly zipped into Choma.  So many houses!  Look at the stores!  Where did all of these cars come from?  We were stopped at a police checkpoint for having too many people in the cab of the truck – but no mention of the people sitting on the edge of the flatbed – and were issued a ticket.  The irony was not lost on us as numerous other pickups and flatbeds zipped by with their beds overflowing with passengers.


Once in Choma, we are stopped by the poilce who promptly issue our vehicle a ticket

Dropped off at the bus stop, we purchased our tickets to Livingstone and could stretch our legs (and many other sore parts) after the first leg of our journey.  We had a little time before the coach bus came, so I took a stroll around town to pick up some provisions.  We found incredible bananas from a young street vendor and I found the Spar Supermarket.  By usual Western standards, this was a small market.  But the amount of choice just in the cracker section was mind boggling.  I did not heed the warnings that going home would require adjustments, and my reaction surprised me when faced with 12 different flavors, sizes and shapes of crackers: I couldn’t make a decision!  With some simple crackers and a candy bar (!) in hand, I returned to the bus stop.

We patiently waited for the coach bus to arrive and gawked at all of the hustle and bustle.  Choma is the largest town and trading center for quite a ways and this all plays out in front of you on the street.  People are often seen piloting enormous wheelbarrows with 200kg of corn meal, car parts, furniture, farm equipment or a combination of these.  Street vendors sell anything they can get their hands on from bananas to cell phones to hack saws to leather belts.  It felt like the Canal Street of Zambia.


We have exchanged the remoteness of Macha for the bustle of Choma

The large, full-size coach bus arrived and we hopped on board after putting our large packs underneath in the cargo hold.  There was a lot of activity putting in large sacks of cornmeal, tools, machinery and more, and thankfully our luggage successfully made it with us for the entire journey without getting stuck between oily engine parts.  We boarded the bus and it was incredibly comfortable.  We felt truly spoiled with our own comfortable seats, a nice view of the Zambian countryside, and only a couple of stops between Choma and Livingstone.  Once underway, we noticed the televisions on the bus were showing terrible kung-fu movies which we thoroughly enjoyed.  The time ticked by and soon we were approaching Livingstone on the potholed detour from the main road through Zambia.


Once on the comfortable coach bus, we are treated to kung-fu

We had to fight through a throng of cabbies all clamoring for our fare to meet our ride to the lodge where we stayed in Livingstone for the night before heading down for a brief safari in Botswana.  We kicked off our shoes, took a constantly-warm-temperature shower, put on our cleanest clothes and sat by the pool with a cold Mosi-Oa Tunya (“The Smoke that Thunders”, the national Zambian maize-based brew named after Victoria Falls) and couldn’t believe the extent we were pampering ourselves.