Kande Beach to Victoria Falls

Day 1.

Unsurprisingly we were up early to leave by 6:00. A few hours later we stopped in Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi, to have lunch. Normally, we stop on the side of the road and everyone pitches in with the setting up of the washing up bowls, tables and food prep for a good summetime salad style lunch. Ruth had decided that today we were going to be given money to buy our own food...especially because everyone goes crazy for the first Nando's they've seen in 4 to 6 weeks (a chicken restaurant that is much like the Ikea of fast food joints - the décor is great, but quality is often perishable). Since everyone was eating there, I thought best not to leave the group. So I loaded up on chicken and chips, much to my stomach's disdain. The lack of bowel inertia was starting to kick in, along with the subsequent frustration.

Everyone wanted to buy snacks (I find everyone buys a lot of dairy milk chocolate, though I never see them eat it and it's incredibly hot on the truck, it must melt. Mystery!). I decided I would quickly use the internet to get started, if not finish, the post on charity that I only just managed to finish above. I was only using the internet for 20 minutes given Ruth's warning "if you don't get back to the bus at 13:30, we're leaving without you" (add brummie accent for extra comedy value). The woman at reception tried to charge me for an hour saying I had been there since 12:27 - what bollocks. I insisted I would pay no more than for 30 minutes, which was 10 minutes than what I had done anyway. I made it back to Nando's, everyone was there, so I dumped my stuff to quickly attempt a toilet break before our next long journey.

When I got out, everyone was gone. Shitting myself (only figuratively unfortunately), I ran to the petrol station where we were initially dropped off. No one there. I ran back to the shopping centre knowing that Ruth had said we would meet there at 13h30. I realised there was a parking lot round the back, so ran around there to find the last few people jumping on the truck. Close call.

We crossed the border into Zambia and headed to camp at Chipata.

Day 2:

Mostly uneventful day. I finally finished my Israel-Palestine book and started my Africa book.

Unfortunately the brick like lack of inertia that gripped my intestines was stubbornly unwilling to let up, even by the end of the day. I had a light salad for dinner, starting not to feel well.

Day 3:

This day started earlier than usual. Not because of Ruth's militant training camp wake ups, but because of an alarm bell in my stomach. At 3:00 am,  I was running across camp in the dark to the toilet. At 5:00 am we were all up to pack up our tents and get moving. I was feeling quite under the weather by then and couldn't eat breakfast. This was to be the longest day of my life.

We were on the truck for a few good hours before someone asked to stop for a toilet break. Teasing me, the driver slowed down to snail's pace, but didn't stop for a few kilometres. Finally he stopped. Pale as a sheet, I had to do what I had dreaded doing for the entire 21 day trip: ask for the trowel (for those who are unaware of what this means, it's for a digging a hole when on a bush based toilet break...).

I ran out into the bush as far as I could to find a mound behind which to hide. On my hands and knees, I stabbed the ground with the trowel with what little energy desperation could muster. The stone and solid dirt made it impossible to dig, I was barely removing the dust from the surface. In utter desperation, I gave up. Painfully and embarrassingly getting on with [explicit content removed] only to realise that, though I was out of the way of the truck, any other passerby could have a clear view at a Mzungu's full moon.

Given the way the activities are discounted, I had long decided to do 3 activities at Victoria Falls including white water rafting which was meant to be the next day. Though I won't go into any detail on the viscosity of it, I will say this: when you can't tell, even after thorough investigation, what's coming out of where, you know you won't be white water rafting the next day.

Everyone was really kind on the truck. Two people moved so I could have a full four seats to sleep on. A few people offered and help provide medicine. And two lovely girls did their best to cheer me up including a hug which, despite my usual coldness to touchiness, was desperately needed.

Along the way, my head was smacked thrice. Once against the bin being lifted over my head, once against the table in the front, once on the way out of the truck. I provided some comedy for everyone when a ketchup packet lodged into the side of the table exploded, when truck slammed on the breaks, all over my face and pillow rudely awakening me from my sleep. I was covered in ketchup, but had no idea what it was or where it came from. It took us a while to solve that mystery.

Eventually we made it to Livingstone, not far from Victoria Falls or the border to Zimbabwe. Stopping at Spar for more snacks and money, I went looking for salted crisps in a zombie like daze. Ridiculously enough, they had every flavour under the sun except salted. Oh well.

We decided to pay the $20 to see the Zambian side to the falls. Ruth told us that we would get soaked going over the bridge - what rubbish. The view was incredible, but having had no breakfast or lunch and relieved myself of all other meals, I found it a tough walk lacking all energy.

We crossed the border and set up camp in Zimbabwe to finally end the longest day ever. Having my traveller's cheques since Nairobi, I was finally allowed to use to pay for activities with 0% commission. I paid for as many people as I could to get rid of them, spending a good hour signing, dating and writing my address and passport number.

One slice of toast for dinner, several immodium and some rehydration salt sachets later I made it to bed.