I’d rather be lost in the woods than found in the city
It is 5 o’clock in the morning when I pull open the heavy doors of the gate which leads to the road. I can see the shoes from the night guard poking out of his little office, soft snoring also comes out and fills the warm humid air around us. When the gate is completely open we can see the streets of Kampala, Uganda. We get into the traffic which is slowly coming to life in the city with a population of 1.5 million. It’s a vibrant city with on the one hand the typical African chaos and on the other side the sharp contrast of new malls and international brands and companies who want to get into the developing market like banks, telecom companies and Uber. Chinese investors are slowly working on the roads in Uganda. The existing roads are torn open and replaced by brand new tarmac, signs are put up and roundabouts installed. Everything to make the infrastructure better. The only thing which is not up to date are the driving skills of the inhabitants of Kampala. Roads with two lanes become 4, merging into traffic means pushing your bull-bar against the other car until the weakest link gives in, parking bays don’t have to be used and stopping in the middle of the street to do your shopping is widely accepted.From the car we see the daylight lighten up the sky around us. I can’t remember consciously enjoying so many sunsets before we started traveling. Slowly the sky turns purple before it changes into a dark orange and when we don’t need our car lights anymore we are well past the boundaries of Kampala. We are on our way to Mt. Elon and Sipi Falls, an area close to the border with Kenya. It’s a bit higher in altitude than its surroundings and famous for its Arabica coffee. On a small ledge, covered in green grass, right next to the abyss leading down the river and with a view over the waterfalls, is our hard to get to, but beautiful campsite for the night. A soft whining from the green grass gets our attention. A young dog, emaciated and tired looking, pushes three hungry pups away from her nipples which causes the whining. Clearly, we set up camp next to their den and the whining is heartbreaking. We don’t really have a choice but to share our dinner with the young mother and her pups. The four of them eat like they haven’t had anything for weeks. As soon as the sun sets and dew covers the grass we find our place in the tent. The moonlight shines through our mosquito net and adds a soft yellow light. It slowly climbs up in the sky and we’re fast asleep before it gets up high.In the morning we visit the Sipi waterfalls. A narrow slippery trail leads us straight past the local crops. It seems to be a very fertile area around the waterfalls. By the time we walk past there are already a lot of farmers and family members working on the fields. With simple tools they work the land and it’s 50 Shades of Green all around us.
We leave Sipi Falls at 12.30 and arrive at Kara-Tunga in Moroto at 17.30. Moroto is a small village in the North East of Uganda. It’s an area that a lot of tourists skip when they visit Uganda, and we were almost one of them…Luckily, we talked to Wim Kok, owner of Matoke Tours, before we started driving around Uganda. His experience as a tour guide and also as the organizer of alternative African travels gives him all the knowledge to advise us. With a passion for Uganda he gladly tells us where to go and what to do and we talk away during the afternoon bend over the map with our coffees. We try to remember all the information he gives up by drawing and writing on our maps. For him this is common practice, but for us it’s as valuable as gold.
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Out of all the rainy days we had in Nairobi, there was one sunny one and we spent it inside the Ethiopian Embassy trying to get our 3 month visas. Our original Africa route included Ethiopia, Sudan and Egypt, but we had heard from various travellers that this visa is really hard to get and most people send their passports home, which was not an option for us. So, because of this we had already decided to drive the west coast until we arrived in Nairobi and talked to two travellers from the UK who had just gotten their Ethiopian Visa! Hearing this we looked at each other and decided: let’s give it a try then! If they just got it then how difficult can it be?… From the UK Overland travellers we got a list of things they needed for their application: a letter from your embassy, an itinerary, why you are applying for the visa in Nairobi and not in your home country, a list of countries you have visited in Africa + the ones you are planning to visit and a bank statement. Luckily, the Dutch embassy in Nairobi gives out a letter, which not all embassies do apparently (for all the Dutchies: make an appointment online!!). Ours simply said: […] Regretfully, the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands is not in a position to issue a certificate in support of voluntary visa applications. […] The visa office from the Ethiopian embassy is open from 9.00am – 12.00pm. We arrived a little after 10 o’clock and it wasn’t that busy when we got there. We were seated and after 5 minutes we were directly called into the Head Consul’s office. This is a stern looking lady (with tattoos on her forehead, neck and arms) who is clearly in charge and does not joke around. She glanced over the papers we gave her, looked into our passports, found out that we don’t have Kenyan citizenship and simply said that we need to fly home to apply for a visa. We explained that we haven’t been home for 2,5 years, are not planning to go home and would like to apply here. She answered that she does not have the authority to give us the visa and that we needed to talk to the Ambassador. So, we walked around the block to the entrance of the Ethiopian Embassy and explained to the security officer that we needed to see the ambassador. She called someone, handed us the phone through the bars of her little office, and I talked to a receptionist telling me that the ambassador was out of town and that we should come back next week……Well, we weren’t planning on hanging around busy Nairobi that long! We walked back to the visa office and explained to the head consul that we tried to talk to the ambassador, but that he is not in and we are not here for another week. Was there another way, we asked her? Apparently not and within a minute we were standing outside again. We felt defeated and didn’t really know what to do next when a business man from the UK who had overheard our conversation with the head consul started talking to us. We explained our problem and he simply said: “I would just walk around to the Embassy building again if I were you and tell them you want to speak to the Deputy Ambassador. He should be in when the Ambassador is not and tell them you’re not leaving until you talk to him.”Since we didn’t really have any other ideas we decided to give his a advice a try and a few minutes later we were on the phone again with the secretary through the bars of the security office. She still wouldn’t let us in and we told we would just wait here then until we could. Five minutes later, the big steel door opened and we were told to come in. The deputy ambassador was a very friendly gentleman who was really interested in what we do and we talked to him for about 20 minutes about Ethiopia, our travel plans and where we had been so far. He told us he had no problem with approving our visas and he wrote something down (in Amharic) on our letters from the Dutch embassy. Elated we walked out of his office and quickly realized that we had about 3 minutes to walk around the block again before the Visa Office closes at 12 o’clock! We ran, knocked on the door at 12.01 and were told to come back at 14.00…… Allright, we needed to have lunch anyway and dealing with the Head Consul is not something to do on an empty stomach.Back at 14.00 we were the only ones there and she didn’t look too thrilled to see us. We gave her the letters that said she should give us a visa and she said: “He didn’t sign his name” What? He didn’t sign? How should we have known this? It was written in Amharic! She clearly wanted us to turn around and admit defeat, but we just said that she should either call him to confirm or we would walk around again and have him sign it ourselves. She didn’t like both of those options and had someone walk to his office to have it signed instead.When our papers came back she wanted to know which countries we were going to visit next. We told her that we would visit Uganda and Rwanda first before heading to Ethiopia (big mistake) and she told us that we could apply for a visa in Uganda. Our reasons for applying in Nairobi were that if we got a 3 month visa for Ethiopia, it would give us enough time to drive around Lake Victoria before going to Ethiopia and we needed to be sure that we would have the visa, because if we would not get it we would not come back to Kenya. She didn’t really understand our reasoning and said: “I can only give you a one month visa and if you visit Uganda and Rwanda first you will not have enough time.” Yes, we do understand that, but we want a 3 month visa! She told us that she could not grant us a 3 month visa and this is when Rinus’ theater school training became useful: for approx. 5 minutes he gave an intense speech as to why she should give us a three month visa, ending in: if you don’t issue it we will go back to the Deputy Ambassador, because we know he will grant it. Exasperated, she sighed, and said: “ok, fill out the forms.” We grabbed the forms and walked out of the office before she could change her mind. By now it was almost 15.30 and she “kindly” informed us that the bank closes at 16.00 and that in order to get our visas we should hurry to make the payment. The Ethiopian Visa is not paid at the visa office itself (for corruption reasons) , but instead you have to go to a CBA bank (close to the Serena Hotel, a 15-10 minute drive from the Visa Office), with a piece of paper that says the account number and amount. Here you can pay the 60 USD for 1 visa in Kenyan Shillings (cash!) and in return you get a receipt that says you have paid which you give to the Consul. While Rinus found a motorbike driver to take him to the bank, I struggled to get a contact person for the random Backpackers in Addis I filled out in our papers. She insisted that she needed a first and last name of a contact person at the Hotel and that Mr. Martin (the name of the owner of Mr. Martin’s Cozy Place) was not enough information. Since this information was no where to be found and even calling to Ethiopia did not work, I finally filled out the details for the Dutch Ambassador in Ethiopia and that was good enough. With our filled our forms and the payment slips we went into the office again and presented everything. The only thing she still needed was a copy of the passports. No problem! I always have……shit, I just got a new passport in Tanzania and hadn’t had time to make copies of it yet. Not really a problem since they have a copy machine there, but they charge 20 shillings for one copy and Rinus had exactly 14 shillings left after he paid for the visas earlier… Obviously, she gave us a hard time over those 6 shillings and in the end Rinus had to run outside and ask his motorcycle driver (who he also hadn’t paid yet) to lend him some shillings which he did with a smile! With all the paperwork done all we had to do was wait. The Head Consul left, we smiled and wished her a pleasant day, while one of her minions wrote us our valuable 3 month visas, starting today.———————-Bring:Letter from your embassy (!! most important document, without it you will not get a visa !!). Explaining your travel and why you apply in Nairobi and not in your homecountry. We added a world map of where we have been and where we are planning to go.Itinerary for your travel through Ethiopiabankstatement (no one asked for it, but we put it among the papers anyway). List of countries you have visited and are going to visit after Ethiopia. Make sure you let them know you go to Ethiopia straight after Kenya. Contact name, address and number for a person in Ethiopia (someone from a hotel or your ambassador works). 1 photo. Enough Kenyan shillings to pay the visa.
We almost miss the exit and with quite some speed we drive off the tarmac. The changeover between tarmac and dirt is a sharp cut off and it feels like we’re diving head first into the gravel road. Immediately we are followed by a large dust cloud as we make our way through Mbuya wa Jerumani. Like every small African town there is a large tree that gives shade to almost half of the village. I have to say that the locals are doing it way better than us. They spend the hottest part of the day sitting underneath the giant tree accompanied by friends, while we are sweating and trying to find the right road. Maybe this is one of the downsides of driving around Africa yourself, like we have been doing for the last year: finding your own way, while the experienced tour guide comes hurrying past, leaving you in a big red African dust cloud. The coordinates we put into the navigation before we left points us in one direction while the sign in front of us directs us in the other. We look at each others questioningly and decide to follow the sign, but not for long. Insecurity hits us when we haven’t seen a sign for a little while and I had just been telling Helga stories about how, as a child, I used to turn signs around to confuse tourists. We decide to turn around and to make sure the first sign we saw is fixed properly. Returning to the sign we find out that it is and relieved we drive back to the point where we turned around earlier.We soon find out that we should have just trusted the signs and we know for sure when the dirt road eventually leads us to the gate of Tarangire National Park. It clearly shows that during the rain season Lake Burunge comes up all the way to the road we’re driving on. We’re visiting right before the rains start and dark clouds already form a thick, angry blanket which prevents the sun from coming through. Not necessarily a bad thing in the current heat. Looking around us we can tell the land is dry and cracked. The earth seems to be ripped open and deep grooves are waiting to take up the first rain like a sponge. The soil reminds me of the skin of an elephant, deep, furrowed, but still beautiful in its own way.We now obediently follow the signs to the lodge and it’s not long before we see the main entrance. The car finds a nice shady spot underneath an old tree and we get out, all sticky and sweaty after the long drive. Before we can even walk up to the reception area, the staff comes up towards us with refreshing, but very white, towels rolled up in neat little bundles and a delicious watermelon juice. We are handed the towels and as soon as I have mine it turns yellow from all the dust we’ve had on the way. “that will be difficult to get clean,” I think to myself. The staff are extremely friendly and make us feel like we found a home away from home.
We follow them inside and immediately I understand why a luxury lodge like this would settle here. From the wooden deck lake Burunge is visible, but there is also a waterhole closer by. In the dry season this is a popular spot for a variety of animals and we don’t even need binoculars.Even in the first half hour of our arrival, which we spend on the elevated viewing deck, we see Elephants followed by Wildebeest, Zebras, Warthogs, Nyalas and later on some Eland and Jackals. By now we’ve spent our first two hours on the viewing deck and a cool breeze makes it a comfortable spot to sit and relax. The staff is quick and gets us new drinks before we can even put down the empty ones. It is such a treat to relax among all these wild animals, it’s the real African experience! By the time they take us to our exclusive safari tent, made out of a combination of wood, canvas, glass and brick, we feel like they’ve taken us to the other side of the world. Around us is nothing but wilderness. From the bed with its immaculate white linen, situated in the middle of the room, we look onto the African bush and we feel like we’re watching a documentary by National Geographic.Helga looks at me and says: “I don’t think I will move from this spot in the next few days.” I look at her and we both start laughing.
The gate from the campsite slides open, but they are having a hard time in getting the heavy gate out of the way. The wheels made from steel are rolling with some difficulty on the rusty rail. When we drive out, we immediately drive into town. We squeeze the car through the low hanging branches of a mango tree and can hear the unripe, green mangos hit the roof like hail. A sandy track leads us to the city centre and back on the tarmac. We get in line behind some cars waiting for the fuel station and spend our last Malawian kwachas on diesel because we are leaving Malawi today and head into Tanzania.
Tanzania is mostly known for its Wildebeast migration, the Serengeti, the Kilimanjaro, the coffee production, but also for its friendly people and different cultures which hope to write about in the next few weeks. The tarmac starts to heat up, the morning chill slowly disappears and the car starts to warm up on the inside. It’s early in the afternoon when we leave Malawi, we sign out at a dilapetated office which houses the immigration, customs, bank and sellers of tomatoes, mangoes and other local products. A stamp in our passports and a stamp on our Carnet is enough to continue our travels and move on through the gate. When we drive through the gate we temporarily find ourselves in No Man’s Land filled with car wrecks before we get to the border with Tanzania. We are immediately pulled over by a lazy looking cop getting out of the shade to stop us. Like well behaved schoolchildren we do as he says and I jump out of the car to fill out my name under in a book in which I can’t even read the previous entries. It seems enough though. I’m allowed to continue and we quickly reach an empty customs office. We’re lucky that we don’t have to wait in line as we did at previous border posts. We change 100USD for 2 visas on a flimsy brown piece of paper and a stamp in our passports before getting in the next line. A friendly, but very slow officer starts the procedure of temporarily importing our car. Even though we are traveling on a carnet, he seems to have to fill out all sorts of forms and to start everything up takes so long that by then I have read almost all of the notices hanging around the office. It takes us two hours before this lovely guy finally finishes all the paperwork, we paid our fees and we can enter Tanzania. Later someone tells us that it probably should have worked if we had given the officer some money, it might have shortened our waiting time from 2 hours to 10 minutes. But then, you never know and we don’t pay bribes. Our first impression of Tanzania: green. In comparison to Malawi, Tanzania is much greener. In large quantities they are growing tea, coffee, mangoes, pineapples, corn and potatoes in this area. We also get less attention then we did in Malawi. The people seem to be more used to seeing white people around. The road is of good quality and in a bit of a hurry drive east, towards Dar es Salaam.Our first impression of Tanzania turns out to be a bit of an illusion. Our view becomes more and more dry and dusty, just like Malawi which is anxiously waiting for the rainy season. The road also changes from well maintained to one where we actively have to dodge the potholes and oncoming traffic. Roadworks make large sections of the road impassible and instead we find ourselves on dusty dirt roads parallel to the soon to be finished tarmac. It is getting dark and it is yet another 70 km before we get to the next campsite. Fully dark now and we are trying to find our way over dust and holes where too many heavy trucks have driven before us.A moment I remember well is when a motorcycle carrying two people, with a large front light, passes us on the narrow track. And we thought we were driving fast over this potholed dirt road! A few bends later and we can see in our beams that same motorcycle driver picking up his motorcycle from the side of the road. We reduce our speed to see if he needs any help and at the same time we can see his passenger’s head sticking out from a sand hill 20 meters away. The poor guy was launched from the motorcycle by the impact, but luckily the sand broke his fall. Fortunately, both men are wearing helmets and sturdy outfits, which is very rare to see here in Africa.The dazed look on the man’s dust covered face is kind of comical though. Both men can still walk and the damage to the motorcycle also seems to be not too bad. By now it is completely dark outside, and since we not yet speak any Swahili, we decide to continue driving. We heard some stories where Muzungus, white people, were held responsible for road accidents they had nothing to do with and we don’t want to be in that position. The road is busy enough that other people might lend a hand to the two guys when necessary. An hour later we arrive at a deserted campsite and set up camp.
It is just around midday when we start on a steep climb up the hill. We just left the old Christian settlement of Livingstonia: a dusty little town started around 1600, based in the hills and looking out over the pale blue lake Malawi. We are on our way to the Mushroom Farm, a small settlement from much more recent years. Although the name is giving you the impression that it’s taking you back to the sixties with psychedelic mushrooms, skunk and a hint of LSD, I’m being told that the name originates from the mushrooms which can be found when the rainy season has started and is flushing the dust of the trees, down the hill and is turning the dry tracks in muddy, impassible hazards. Kyle, a friendly young man with an enormous passion and totally adapted to the African way of working, is showing us around. We would describe Kyle as a self taught permaculture enthusiast. As soon as he starts leading us around the 11ha of plateaus with plants we see his dark eyes lighten up. Kyle is telling us that sitting still never worked for him, he worked on permaculture farms in the US and South Africa before settling here. Recently he got his mom to fly down from the US bringing in interesting sounding plant seeds to grow spices that would add perfectly to the food served at the Mushroom farm. Not yet shocked by this he shows us his collection of Asian earthworms (Red Wigglers) who are working hard in a concealed area to fertilise soil. The wigglers did not crawl down here by themselves but also made it to the farm in a suitcase.
The rainworms fertilise the ground together with the human waste of the Mushroom Farm. The waste is collected by smart looking compost toilets, and this way everyone gives a small donation to the fertilization of the farm. Accidentally looking down the longdrops it is clearly visible that the farm has been growing in well deserved popularity. The reason I’m saying this is not only because the longdrop is not that long anymore, but also because we have been hearing stories about the Mushroom Farm traveling all through Malawi. After the location has been taking over from a Australian guy, about 3 years ago, Maddy, a fresh and fit looking English lady and her brother Cameron, a total coffeeholic and great carpenter, turned the place in to a total hipster paradise where wearing beards, drinking coffee, playing boardgames, eating vegetarian and sharing travel experiences is cool. To go with this we just heard that Cameron totally mastered the hipster culture by developing a bicycle-driven coffee roasting machine, which we are now very curious about and have yet to see… The guys from the Mushroom Farm are also working very closely together with the local community spreading the vision of creating sustainable tourism in the area. The Eco-Lodge is designed as a social-enterprise; encouraging employment, responsible tourism and donating part of the lodge’s profit to community projects in the area. Over the last 3 years the Mushroom Farm has more than tripled their employees; supporting them and their families by creating work and also creating schooling opportunities. They’ve also started weekly adult literacy classes, nursery and feeding program, and provide scholarships for vulnerable students in the area who would not otherwise have an opportunity to go to school. By staying at Mushroom Farm, you truly do make a difference to the community.
At this stage, what we can see with our untrained eye, the farm is producing: Tomatoes, salad, avocados, bananas, capsicum, coffee, spices, cucumbers, beetroot and carrots. The products they are not producing are bought from local farmers or brought in from Mzuzu, about 3 hours away. The quality of the food and the incredible view of the location are without a doubt the main attractions and totally distract you from the fact that some of the buildings could use some love and that there is continuous building activity to improve the place even more. Not that you will be spending much time in your lodgings anyway since the bar is a much better place to hang out and the food will keep you coming back continually.
Just to summarise the current facts of the Mushroom Farm. Staying at the farm will give you a totally breathtaking view: overlooking Lake Malawi, with rolling hills also in the backgrounds, it’s a scenery that never gets old no matter how long you stay. Even better, the sun will rise over the lake in the early morning which is something to get up for sure! The best way to take in these views are from the hammocks that seem to be suspended mid air just on the edge of the cliff. The hammocks are also close to the bar, a place you don’t want to get too far away from since the home grown food keeps you coming back. The food is being served with a smile and pride by the most wonderful people who are getting a fair chance to improve their lives. The farm is offering an overland campsite for cars, tent campsites, safari tents, dorm rooms, a tree house, a cob house, 2 showers and 2 toilets, a bar, a restaurant and a sundeck for yoga. The whole place has 22 beds available, so book in advance and make sure that you get there before 16.00 to sign in for that delicious vegetarian dinner.
It is Thursday the 8th of October when I close the car door behind me. My hands grasp the light brown coloured steering wheel which is covered in dust, just like the dashboard. The car shakes a bit when I start it and the shaking slowly changes into a more rhythmic shudder: a familiar sound at last. We can hear the dust underneath the tyres when we drive away from the entrance and start on the climb to the village.On our way to the village we pass by some stalls with local products and some attentive merchants call out to us as we pass. Even though we’re in a driving car, they still think they can sell us some touristy things as we go. When we don’t stop, they walk back to their stalls, heads down, and settle back on their wooden stools. The “27.000 Miles Along The Sea” team has temporarily grown to four people. Two energetic and very enthusiastic Dutch guys spotted our car in Nkhata Bay and heard that we occasionaly take people along. With their typical Dutch directness, they don’t cut around the bush and ask us if they can join us when we visit Vwaza and Nyika National Park. We don’t have to consider this proposal for very long. Their enthusiasm is contagious and we realize that the change in our travel dynamics might be good for us, so we say yes.
A narrow dusty track leads us to Vwaza National Park. We can tell by the condition of the road that the park doesn’t get that many visitors. Just before we really enter the gate we find a large tree that covers most of the road in shade and we pull over for a quick lunch. A young local woman walks up to us and starts talking to us in her own language. It is impossible for us to find out what she wants, so we decide to ignore her. A few moment later she gets down on her hunches near the back of the car, where Helga is making some chicken sandwiches.. She then unbuttons a pocket in her dress and puts some Malawian Kwacha notes on the table which hangs on the inside of the back door. “ She thinks we’re some kind of shop”, I say to Helga. We both laugh, give her some leftovers and put the kwachas back in her hand. Very happy we see her walk back down the road towards the village. “Let’s get out of here,” Helga says, “before she brings her whole family.” We all get back in the car and drive the last few kilometers to the park. Vwaza NP:
We stay in a large hut made from wood and straw. It is the cheapest solution to stay in the park and somehow much cheaper than camping. We move the beds around, hang our mosquito nets from the ceiling and settle for the night. The sun sets and just before seven o’clock everything around us is dark with our head torches as our only light. When we look around us we can see eyes light up in the beam from our torches all round us like shiny marbles. I try to count them, but movement makes it too hard. The long day exhausted us all and it doesn’t take long before everyone is sound asleep. I wake up feeling like I’m in a helicopter. It is not even midnight and I must have slept for at least 3 hours. Helga lies next to me, clearly frustrated with her eyes wide open staring at the ceiling while she keeps the sheets up to her nose. I realize why I thought I was in a helicopter, the mosquito net has filled itself with buzzing mozzies. I follow her example, but can’t seem to relax and get used to the buzzing sound. “ This so called mosquito net is not working as it is meant to be working, “ I tell her, “ I am going to pitch up the tent!”. The next moment I’m in my boxer shorts on top of a skew car, surrounded by hippos, setting up a rooftop tent. The movements are all automatic and within a few minutes I’m finished. The moment I get in the tent I see Helga coming out of the hut with her blanket. “ May I join you up there?” she asks. “ Sing a song first!” I reply jokingly. She’s not amused and with a murmured “f*ck you” she gets into the tent. The smell of a simmering coffeepot and an omelet reaches us up in the tent and tickles our nostrils. There is no way we can resist this and like a bunch of well trained soldiers we are up and ready at six o’clock in the morning and waiting in line for the coffee. We almost inhale the liquid as if our lives depend on it and the person who proves to have a steel esophagus turns around first and hurries to the shower. The rest starts to pack and it’s not too long before everyone had his shower and we’re ready to go. The roads are not clearly signposted and we find our own way through the National Park. We start to follow the riverbed that leads through the park. It is the driest time of the year and our benefit is that all the animals gather around the only water and the little green there is. When it’s around noon all the animals disappear from the sun and start saving their energy in the shadows. The downside is that as soon as you leave the area where there is water everything is dry. We turn of after we’ve followed the river as far as we could and the last drops of water are evaporated. The four of us have a look at the map. Our choices here in Vwaza are limited, there are not a lot of tracks through the park and the rangers have told us not to drive the northern or southern routes because of poaching activity in the area and the condition of the road. As far as they are concerned we take the road east which is the same we drove when we went in. After a long talk we decide to go against the advice of the rangers and choose the road less taken: North. It’s the road that goes through the poaching area and of which the condition is unknown. Our car doors and windows are tightly shut. When we look out of the car the whole side is covered in TseTse flies. When we stop they hit us like hail, probably thinking they can fly through the heavy steel or something. We should really lower our tyre pressure on this track, but none of us has the guts to out of the car, so we deal with the inconveniences and drive a little bit slower. It becomes a bit of a challenge when we also get fallen trees and branches on the dirt road. From behind the steering wheel I look around me, but still, no one volunteers to get them off the road. We’re lucky: we manage to drive around them again and again. As I am writing this story, the next thing that comes to mind and when we are almost sitting on the front seats with four people because hanging out of the windows on the side is still impossible because of the TseTse flies. Ide and Hendrik are both leaning forward as fas as they can to have a look out of the front window. It’s hard to see, but in the distance we can see three men dressed in military outfits, carrying guns, walking on the shoulder of the track in the shade of the trees. It’s already too late to turn around, and there was any space to do so either way. One of the guys is carrying the antlers of a male Kudu over his shoulder while the person in front navigates with a small handheld GPS. They are all dressed in thick canvas and covered in flies. They’ve clearly tried to cover every part of their bodies and it makes them look like guerrilla warriors because of it. Slowly we come closer and I can feel the tension amongst us. The moment the men are passing us I make a quick decision which we will all regret later and I’m still not sure of was the right one. The men pass on my side and I quickly roll my window down…like an avalanche hundreds of TseTse flies stream into the car. We are all dumbfounded for a few seconds while the car fills up with them. Hendrik, who sits next to me makes another quick decision and also rolls his window down in the hope that the momentum of the flies leads them straight through the car and out on the other side. Theoretically that was a very good idea, but it has a reverse effect and twice as many flies get into the car. I chat with the men very quickly and they tell us that they are an anti poaching unit who are on patrol. We quickly close the windows again and start to drive. The inside of the car feels like beehive. We are being attacked from all sides by these ferocious little animals. The other people in the car choose their weapons (towels, newspapers) and start their counterattack while loudly keeping scores. Pieces of newspaper are flying through the car while I get hit in the head by a towel murdering TseTse flies. But they don’t seem to die that easily. I try my best to keep my foot on the gas while I get bitten by the little bastards. Slowly the amount of flies are getting less. We laugh about the situation and find our way out of the park. The closed gate looms up in the distance and we are all a bit scared that it might be locked and no one is there. It turns out not to be locked and I run out of the car and off we go, out of the park. Half an hour later we reach the next national park: Nyika NP. It’s a park that looks like a mix between Wales and the Scottish highlands. It’s clean, green and the rolling hills seem endless in the distance. We put up camp, bake bread and sit around the campfire sharing stories while we enjoy the cool night for a change. We leave early the next morning, drive out of the park and find our way to Livingstonia.
