By Roxanne Reid
Crossing with the Kazungula ferry from Zambia to Botswana over the Zambezi River is fun – if you have a strongly developed sense of humour and aren’t a person who easily gets stressed.
Crossing with the Kazungula ferry from Zambia to Botswana over the Zambezi River is fun – if you have a strongly developed sense of humour and aren’t a person who easily gets stressed.
Yes, the Zambian border is pandemonium. Even working out where to park was a puzzle of about the same complexity as a Rubik’s cube. Cars are parked higgledy piggledy on both sides of the fence. Numerous trucks are part of the commotion while others appear to be lined up waiting to pass through the border. People are everywhere, walking, running, sitting, and there’s no way to know where the entrance to the passport control office is hiding. It was as busy and confusing as a painting by Hieronymous Bosch.
Luckily, a ‘fixer’ latched on to us before we could make too much of a fool of ourselves.
In fact, about five of them did, some wanting to exchange pula for us as we crossed into Botswana, others just promising they could get us through the border in ‘ten minutes’. When we insisted we already had pula and weren’t in any hurry, only one stayed the course and was polite enough to convince us.
Luckily, a ‘fixer’ latched on to us before we could make too much of a fool of ourselves.
In fact, about five of them did, some wanting to exchange pula for us as we crossed into Botswana, others just promising they could get us through the border in ‘ten minutes’. When we insisted we already had pula and weren’t in any hurry, only one stayed the course and was polite enough to convince us.
A ferry arrives in Zambia, across the river from Botswana
Of course, we realised that he’d want some sort of tip for his services, but since we had around ZAR300 over unspent after paying for the ferry and a council tax, we figured what the hell. It was going to be ‘dead’ money soon anyway; Zambia was gearing up to knock off three noughts from its currency, to make it less laughable. (This happened in January 2013.) Even if we came back in a year or two, the notes we had would be useless, because the change would be ushering in new notes as well.
Our man was true to his word. We got our passports stamped, filled in the required forms, paid for the ferry and were driving onto it in around 15 minutes whereas everyone we’d spoken to had told us it would take two to three hours.
We parted with good wishes all round, and the only thing I felt bad about is that I had no more kwachas left over to buy a rather well-executed wood carving from an artist determined to be our last contact on Zambian soil.
Our man was true to his word. We got our passports stamped, filled in the required forms, paid for the ferry and were driving onto it in around 15 minutes whereas everyone we’d spoken to had told us it would take two to three hours.
We parted with good wishes all round, and the only thing I felt bad about is that I had no more kwachas left over to buy a rather well-executed wood carving from an artist determined to be our last contact on Zambian soil.
Boarding the ferry
There’s no doubt that the long streams of trucks parked on the side of the road and within the gates at Kazungula would have confused us utterly if we’d been left to our own devices. We thought they were all in front of us in the queue and would probably have waited for them to move.
‘Oh no,’ our fixer waved his hand dismissively, ‘they’re waiting for papers.’ Seems they can sometimes wait there for two to three weeks before said papers come through. Ouch.
Ours was the only vehicle to head off on the ferry into the middle of the Zambezi River on that run, although it had been laden with a huge truck, three cars and a muddle of pedestrians on its way over from Botswana. Midstream, we looked back sadly to the Zambian shore and saw two Zambian ferries parked a little way upstream.
‘Not working today,’ was the ferry driver’s comment, though I suspect they won’t be working any time soon either.
Entering Botswana
Sad as we were to leave Zambia, we were buzzed at our whirlwind border crossing. On the Botswana side things were a lot more organised – and a lot more boring.
‘Oh no,’ our fixer waved his hand dismissively, ‘they’re waiting for papers.’ Seems they can sometimes wait there for two to three weeks before said papers come through. Ouch.
Ours was the only vehicle to head off on the ferry into the middle of the Zambezi River on that run, although it had been laden with a huge truck, three cars and a muddle of pedestrians on its way over from Botswana. Midstream, we looked back sadly to the Zambian shore and saw two Zambian ferries parked a little way upstream.
‘Not working today,’ was the ferry driver’s comment, though I suspect they won’t be working any time soon either.
Entering Botswana
Sad as we were to leave Zambia, we were buzzed at our whirlwind border crossing. On the Botswana side things were a lot more organised – and a lot more boring.
Giants of the road: waiting trucks and free-ranging elephants
Once all the passport formalities were successfully accomplished, we hauled out all our shoes to dampen their soles on the disinfectant mat Botswana uses to try to prevent the spread of foot-and-mouth disease among their very valuable cattle herds.
A Kenyan overland driver who was also waiting to get through the border said they had made his guests unpack everything to get at their second or third pairs of shoes a few weeks earlier.
Maybe sometimes they will, but that day three guys were sitting around on old chairs chatting, not even really caring if we did the pair on our feet or not.
We smiled fondly; perhaps there was still a touch of Zambian disorder on this side of the border after all.
[Update May 2021: A spanking new bridge crossing the river has now opened, making the ferries a thing of the past.]
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A Kenyan overland driver who was also waiting to get through the border said they had made his guests unpack everything to get at their second or third pairs of shoes a few weeks earlier.
Maybe sometimes they will, but that day three guys were sitting around on old chairs chatting, not even really caring if we did the pair on our feet or not.
We smiled fondly; perhaps there was still a touch of Zambian disorder on this side of the border after all.
[Update May 2021: A spanking new bridge crossing the river has now opened, making the ferries a thing of the past.]
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Copyright © Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za
Copyright © Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za
