AFRICAN ENCOUNTER
Overland Safari Blog
January – May 1973
Part One –
Johannesburg (South Africa) to Lusaka (Zambia)
At the Equator in Zaire – a full cast of characters (minus the Leader, who took the photo ) – 24 March 1973
Preface
This Blog is written exactly 50 years
after the events which are recorded.
It comprises Memories – amazing what
is remembered, help from my little Dagboeki and Photographs (which were OK in
1973, but may be, like the writer, a bit faded now!).
I will be “publishing” it in parts
which will approximately align with the dates 50 years ago, but slightly in arrears. Each section will
contain some photos, some memories and some thoughts on the events, as well as
some typos and some other issues that show my inability to master the technical
aspects of Blogging (tears out hair – what hair you ask?).
One of the joys of publishing these reminiscences is that I have heard from others who made similar overland trips, and also found that the memory of the events has sharpened - things which I thought had been forgotten have come back into consciousness.
Much appears to have changed in the African scene
since the time of this journey and there can be little doubt that such a
journey might not be possible now. However I had thought that before we started ! I suspect that what has really happened is that the issues which made the "New" in 1973 simply rolled onto the next country. Also, whilst working on a project in Malawi in 2013 I was very surprised to meet a Lass who had driven by Motorcycle from London, taking breaks to return to the UK for Weddings etc!
It may also become apparent that the
Blog is written by someone who is a Railway Enthusiast, i.e an ex
“Trainspotter”!
So, read on and hopefully enjoy what
has been written.
So here follows Part One
Introduction
7.30am 26 January
1973 – The Scene – A Car Park in Central Johannesburg, South Africa.
It seemed as if everything in my year
in South Africa had been leading up to this moment, when I would be meeting
with a group of 16 others who, with one exception, I had never met before, to
travel the length and breadth of this wonderful continent.
I had left England in December 1971
on the Safmarine boat Oranje bound for Cape Town and the land about which I had
heard so much since I was a child – Africa. South Africa itself was rarely out
of the news, usually for the wrong reasons, and I had been given a one-year
contract to work for one of the country’s larger accountancy practices in
Johannesburg. There I worked with a number of different organisations auditing
their books and accounts. How different the profession seems from those days
when accounting and auditing standards had not yet been heard of, and how dull
the work was – although I have to concede that I worked with some interesting
organisations - for example the firms that imported Rolex Watches from Switzerland and Marine Engines from a certain famous company in the :UK whose name also started with Rol.s.R.... (not giving away any secrets)
The last two months of my time in
Joburg had been spent with a small accountancy practice “sorting-out” the
records of a Solicitor’s practice which had been allowed to fall into something
approaching chaos; a project which took all of the two months of head-down work to
achieve the result required. As the project proceeded, and appeared to be
heading towards a successful conclusion, the two partners offered me the
opportunity of joining the partnership. However, the life of an accountant in a
country which was clearly very troubled did not appeal and I had already heard
about the opportunity to travel overland back home with Encounter.
Whilst living in South Africa and
learning something of the way the country operated, I had been able to travel
to some of the places of real interest within weekend reach of Johannesburg like:
Mafeking, Ermelo and the Eastern Transvaal, then Welkom in the Free State,
where I was involved in a performance of Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Mikado” in a
rather smart theatre. There was also Rustenburg, Magaliesburg and even Lenasia
(the Asian township outside of Jo’burg) for another performance “Mikado”, and
many other places. However, the best places to go, it seemed to me, were those
just outside of South Africa, and which could be (relatively) easily reached:
Swaziland, Lesotho with its remarkable history, Botswana (just) and Lorenzo Marques
in Mozambique, which then was still under Portuguese rule, and where Christmas
1972 was spent, and lots of Cashew Nuts were bought. Attractive and liberal as
these places were there was little doubt that they were all very conscious of
their proximity and reliance on South Africa and its Afrikaaner rulers.
Also in the Car Park was a Blue
Bedford Truck (TMJ 152K) with a small trailer which was to be our home for the
next four months or so. We had not been given an exact arrival date since it was
understood that this was an adventure and that we may encounter all manner of
challenges which might influence our arrival time.
Our group was mostly of the same age
c25-30+ years and comprised:
·
3 British men and 2 women
·
I New Zealander and 4 N.Z. women
·
2 Australians – one man and one woman
·
3 Swiss Men
·
1 Canadian Woman
·
1 Driver /Leader (who changed part way through the journey)
We also had some “passengers” for the
first stage of the journey – travellers who had come down from London with the
Truck, and were now heading back to the UK via the East African route.
There was a mix of relevant skills
amongst us including 6 with nursing qualifications experience, which was rather comforting. A
Physiotherapist, two soldiers who had served in Vietnam, A Chef, a retired
professional footballer, and others including a student in a pre-University
gap-year, and myself. All of whom can be seen in the picture above which was
taken later in the journey in eastern Zaire, where we crossed the Equator, not for the first time!
28 January 1973
Having loaded our luggage into the
trailer, and made our introductions and said good byes, we were ready to go and
set off on the road out of Jo’burg through its northern suburbs and past the
turning to the house which had been shared with a fellow Brit for some six
months. The same house in which we had held a last night party after completing the
run of the pretty appalling production of Mikado, at which there was much singing and
drinking of a rather vicious punch which had easily been produced in a country
in which alcohol was relatively cheap (how it didn’t attract the attention of
the local constabulary I will never know - perhaps they were all out at a Saturday night Braai!?; I learned that our neighbours had thought that the party was in the next street !).
It is probably worthwhile pointing
out that 50 years ago, we had no mobile phones, also that the internet was also something very
much of the future. If we had a problem that we were unable to solve ourselves,
it was obvious that we would need to find a telephone to make a call, and the
quality of an international call could be very variable. These were the days
when “snail mail” ruled and if we wanted to contact someone in our families back
home the best way was by writing a letter and for them to send their replies to
various poste-restante addresses spread across the route we planned to take.
The first town through which we passed was Pretoria, named after one of the founding fathers of the state of South Africa, Jan Pretorius, and with its Voortrekker monument; a huge solid block of stone which commemorated the safe deliverance of the first Afrikaaners in their journey from the Cape to their promised land across the Vaal River (Transvaal).
The roads in Southern Africa were good and it was possible to make good
progress; as the day was drawing to a close we started to search for a place
where we could set up camp for our first night.
A tuning off the main road, north of
Petersburg, and short ride along a dirt track brought us to some open space
where were to spend our first night – I think that we were mostly rather
cautious at that stage and only one tent was erected, the rest of us choosing
to sleep out under the stars (which were amazing). This was alright to
start with, but became colder as the night wore on and I will remember lying on
my back, afraid to move lest I should waken someone, and gazing at the myriad stars and hearing the sounds of the distant trains
as they laboured with their heavy loads bound, probably, for what was then
called Rhodesia, still very much an “outlaw” state in the African continent.
The following morning, we were up
with great enthusiasm for the day ahead and the first breakfast was prepared.
It had been explained to us that the functions of cooking and washing-up and
the shopping for each day’s food, would be divided up each being carried out by
one of the girls and one of the boys for each day. To this end we had some
supplies on board, kept in “cupboards” under the seats in the “truck” – this
was the dried foods and cereals which would be our staple diet as well as the
absolutely vital loo rolls, as we had essentially said goodbye to our last
conventional toilet until we reached Europe, and even a drop-toilet would soon
become something of a luxury. For the most part a visit to the loo consisted of
a walk out into the bush with a trowel and some loo roll, always remembering to
wash hands afterwards from the large water tanks mounted on the sides of the
truck, again these were to prove invaluable, and the importance of using water
with care was stressed from the outset.
The countryside through which we
passed was mostly wooded, and I recall the NZ ex soldier commenting that this
would be ideal territory for a guerrilla war, Little did we know at the time
how accurate his prediction would be, as Rhodesia / Zimbabwe developed into
something which sounded like anarchy.
And so we set off once again and
arrived at the Rhodesian border at Beitbridge, where our immigration was a
relatively straight forward matter, and we were able to have our Rhodesian
stamps made on a separate piece of paper, thereby, hopefully, eliminating the
need to buy new passports.
The general impression of Rhodesia
was of a beautiful country which was well cared for but, in which the native
population played the role of second class citizens to the white population.
Two images of
Rhodesian Railways huge Beyer Garrett locos, fitted with extra water tanks. on trains at West Nicholson en route to
Bulawayo and Victoria Falls and, maybe, Zambia, or beyond
We arrived at Bulawayo which was the Rhodesia’s second major city but
did not appear to be of any great size, and did not spend longer than necessary
to buy supplies for the next stage of the journey, which was to bring us to the
one of the wonders of the world – The Victoria Falls. We visited the falls but
it was at that time of year when the Zambezi was in full flow, the result was
that there was unceasing spray, arising from the water falling into the gorge
into which the River Zambezi flowed, and was something that had not been
expected.
30 January 1973
After a night spent at a campsite near the falls, mercifully away from
the continuous spray from the Falls, we packed up and left to cross the bridge
which would take us into Zambia, our first encounter with the “real” Africa
beyond the limits of the south. A brief stop on the bridge for photographs was
followed by our first encounter with the political challenges which we would
encounter throughout the trip. Our passports were collected up and taken to the
border post and after what seemed an interminable time were returned with the
news that two of us were not to be allowed into Zambia as we had South African
resident’s stamps and had taken longer than the permitted 24 hours to transit
Rhodesia.
By a stroke of good fortune the other person who had been denied entry
was the English physiotherapist who had a friend who managed the Southern Sun’s
hotel at Victoria Falls and she contacted him to ask if we could come and stay.
So for two nights we stayed in the manager’s house whilst one of our group
headed for the British embassy in Lusaka to get visas for us to enter the
country.
Whilst at Victoria Falls I was able to observe the railway operations
that were taking place, something which to someone who fits the title of
“Railway Enthusiast” was ideal. We were at a time when Rhodesia was under
sanctions from most of the rest of the world which could have had a very bad
effect on the countries to its north, most notably Zambia and Zaire. It was
apparent that a blind eye was being turned to sanctions in that freight bound
for Zambia and the north which had come through the ports of South Africa and
Mozambique was arriving at Victoria Falls station and was then shunted/pushed
onto the bridge whereupon a locomotive would appear from the Zambian side and
take the train onwards as if nothing was wrong – this was one operation which
never reached the international press. Whilst these operations were going on,
further north in Zambia, and in Tanzania a new railway was being built with
great speed by Chinese engineers, to link the port of Dar es Salaam with Zambia
and Zaire and particularly with the Copper Belt.
A Crocodile Farm at Victoria Falls
Victoria Falls from the Southern side with the Zambezi in full flow – note the Spray that is arising from the Falls where the Zambezi falls into the Chasm
Staying at the Victoria Falls also allowed opportunities to observe the
Falls from close-up. The Zambezi River runs out from Zambia and encounters a
huge gorge into which it falls and then continues it journey towards the Indian
Ocean via the great Kariba Dam. We were beginning to learn that what we were
seeing in Africa, whether animal, vegetable or mineral was substantially bigger
that we had previously encountered.
The Road and Rail bridge above Victoria Falls showing a train which was about to set-off for Zambia and its Copper Belt loaded with Coal. It appears to be raining but that was the impression created by the Spray from the Falls
Three days later we met our colleague on the bridge above the gorge of Victoria Falls and were given our visas and were allowed to enter into Zimbabwe. The Border Guards looked with fascinated interest through our belongings, particularly my Sponge Bag which had a few plasters, aspirins and shaving kit. One was particularly impressed " Are you a Doctor he said?"
We spent the night in a tourist residence before starting to hitch hike our way to Lusaka. We divided into two parties, which made getting lifts much easier. One of the men who gave us a lift regaled us with a story about an incident he had with another motorist in which they had both got out of their cars and instead of fisticuffs our driver had taken out his gun and shot the tyres of the other car which he seemed to think was quite normal – we listened with open mouths and made sure that we did not say anything that was going to be controversial. But what we did get was an invitation to visit his smart new factory at Kafue where some rather smart fabrics were made and which provided employment for many local people.
Our arrival at the Campsite outside Lusaka we were greeted with
something of the “Dr Livingstone, I presume” type of humour. Our first task was
to get to the British Embassy together with money and appropriate photographs,
to obtain new clean passports which had no indication of the time we had spent
in South Africa or Rhodesia, and so for 10 years after I proudly boasted that I
had a passport which was issued in Zambia.
At Lusaka we took on some more passengers who had stayed in Zambia from
the previous south-bound trip three girls one English and one Canadian and one
other and a German the latter was invaluable in the work which he undertook to
strip the engine of the truck, at Lusaka, and without which we would certainly
have never reached London, and possibly not even Nairobi!
5 February 1973
While the motor was being attended to we took the opportunity to visit
our new friend at his factory at Kafue, an interesting visit, although one
during which we were not tempted by any of the samples we saw.
Lusaka has a modern Cathedral to which a visit was paid; whilst it
seemed unusual to see such a relatively modern building which had been built in
an African country we found it to be spacious and resonant and one could
imagine the sounds of choirs of Zambians singing melodiously at the services.
Cathedral of the Holy Cross Lusaka – An Anglican building constructed in 1962 whilst Zambia was under Colonial rule, shortly before independence.
One other feature of Lusaka was the main street – Cairo Road – which had
resonances of the dreams of Cecil Rhodes to build a highway from the north to
the south of Africa, but which has never been fully achieved.
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