Cats on Safari Chapter 6 - Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika

Him Outdoors was still on his mission to klap the kilometres, muttering that the time we saved here could be spent in Arusha so yet another 4h30 wake up call on Boxing Day. Dab hands we are, within minutes we were packed, flask filled and ready to go. Except – one cat short.

“We have to review our cat departure procedure,” HO announced. “This is now a big game for them.” We found Speckle eventually, curled as tightly as she could under the curtain in a dark corner behind the dressing table. Gotcha!

A good cup of coffee on the go gave us the chatters and we were so busy debating the lack of personal life of the famous and intrusion of the public and paparazzi into every minute of their day (I know, right, but it was 5h12 and we were on our 2^nd cups of strong Jacobs!) that we missed the turn towards Mpika, today’s destination. A fairly bright braincell tugged the alarm when I noticed Ndola Road School.  Ndola? The wrong toll road, surely?  Pulling off at a roadside market, we made enquiries. Indeed, several kilometers past the turn, it appeared. Henry did a U-turn (very rare) and we motored back the way we’d come. It’s a pity we had little time to linger as the veggies in the market were magnificent, beautifully piled and arranged in a medley of colour and shape.

The excellent road droned away beneath Henry’s tyres and the lush, fertile landscape rolled past. Occasionally we passed pedestrians, all of whom, no matter their age or gender, carrying a heavy hoe. Little boys swung theirs enthusiastically at weeds as they lagged behind their parents. Sometimes a woman, holding a chicken by the legs, brandished it at us, a kind of very fresh, still feathered KFC drivethru. Once, a child pushed his reluctant goat onto the tarmac, indicating that if red meat was on our shopping list, to look no further.

We were way out in the sticks about 2 hours later when HO mentioned that diesel would be a good idea if we saw a garage. On a scale of 0 – 10, 0 being no worries at all and 10 being a dead stop, he rated us a 7, with no  clue where, on the 87km stretch of road between the last village and Mpika, we were. We were giving two chaps on their way to church a lift, although unfortunately, they had little English and even less idea of distance measured in kilometres but still, Defcon 7. Concerned but no panic. This just as we’d noted Livingstone’s Memorial on the map, off to the left somewhere but not enough fuel to risk it. 

So close but still too far to visit what was sure to be a fascinating monument.

Uh oh, the light appeared within a few minutes of this, as we crested a rise in the road and saw a petrol tanker stopped a few metres ahead. Pulling alongside, I asked if we could buy some diesel from him. To our utter astonishment, and after a negotiation led by our two hitchers, he agreed to sell 20l to us. We pulled over, he filled a container and produced a hose, we cut a water bottle funnel with a supersharp, credit card knife HO got for his birthday and, with the assistance of our passengers, Henry was resuscitated and we were off on our way again.

The cats disappeared under the bed the minute 2 strangers climbed in to share their ride, reappearing only when we stopped at Mango Grove Lodge in Mpika. They missed their first roadside assist!

It is completely inexplicable to us how time and time again when travelling various lonely roads, our vehicle emergencies are dealt with in the most extraordinary circumstances. Nkosi sikelel' iAfrika.