At first, all seemed well, the road, by African standards, was okay, and the GPS seemed to be picking up a direct route to the border. Things began to get a little bit worrying, however, when the road began to narrow, and soon disappeared into little more than a cycle path. We ploughed on. At one point the road/path had collapsed, and it was only after a local lady shouted at us that we realised we could take an even narrower path around it. We were intrigued to see what kind of border post laid in wait for us, and soon we found out.
'We're in Zambia!' Phil's exclamation from the passenger seat came as a result of our GPS informing us that we had crossed the border. We looked at each other, and then the map, and then the road ahead, and conceded to continuing until the first town to access our situation. As we approached the first town, still there was no sign of a border. We asked around a few confused locals, and were eventually instructed to return back the way we came in search of the Malawian immigration. After, a relatively short but frustrating drive back to the 'border', we managed to locate the Malawian immigration on our GPS, and soon we were approaching it from the wrong side.
There was a barrier, and a small hut, and a few young men, and the remnants of a flag. After informing the young men that we were in fact leaving Malawi, and not entering it, we waited inside the semi-abandoned building for the immigration officer to arrive. The process once he did arrive was very straight forward, and after talking him through the Carnet, we were on our way out of Malawi and into Zambia for the second time of the day. We still had no idea where we could be stamped into Zambia, but again conceded to the idea of driving further in, and seeing what happened. It was preferable to a long and frustrating journey back along the cycle path, and plus, we were out of Malawi now, we didn't really have another option.
Again we headed back towards the 'border' town, and this time bumped into someone saying he was the immigration officer. We headed back with him to a small office, and after informing him of our situation, he made a phone call to the 'man with the stamp'. Unfortunately, the 'man with the stamp' was in Lusaka, and thus we couldn't have either our passports or our carnet stamped here. He did, however, offer to write us a letter to present to the immigration office in Zambia's first 'major' town, ensuring that we didn't get into trouble for entering the country illegally. We were happy that this had sorted any potential problems, and were keen to get back on the road towards Isoka, approximately four hours away.
Believe it or not, that was just the start of our problems. After driving a short distance further towards Isoka, the car suddenly cut out, and refused to restart. It was awful timing, and although it didn't seem to be a major issue, it would delay things a day at least. We were lucky, again, in finding a nearby 'bush' mechanic, and after a night spent in the car, we were heading off again. Unfortunately, we didn't get very far, until the problems returned yet again, and to add to this problem we were critically low on petrol, and due to election fever, there was none around. All fuel in this area was black market, but everyone had run dry. It left us with a dilemma. We were broken down on the side of a road, with no fuel, and only a bush mechanic. We eventually decided to head off in search of fuel, and after Phil's missions to the nearby towns failed, I jumped on the back of a lorry for the four hour journey to Isoka.
I was lucky, in that the lorry was being driven by our bush mechanic friend, and thus I got a seat up front. I was, however, unfortunate in that the Lorry was going to Isoka to have some work carried out on its suspension, and thus each bump in the road was ever increasingly painful. When I eventually arrived, however, I was relieved not only to find fuel, but also a place showing the first day of the football premier league season. It had been a long day, and the lorry wouldn't be heading back until the following afternoon. After finding the cheapest hotel in town, I retired to spending the day in front of the tv screen, enjoying the football.
The day got even better when I received a phone call from Phil, who by chance had bumped into Harrisson, a Zambian guy working on a road construction project. He had agreed to tow phil and our car all the way to Isoka (approx 200 miles), and thus I wouldn't need catch a ride back, also it meant that we could find a slightly more qualified mechanic to get the car ship shape once more. It was a huge relief, and we owe a massive debt of gratitude to both Harrisson and his driver. Several hours later, and just as the Arsenal game had kicked off (I got to watch Villa anyway), a men named Harrisson entered the bar, and told me that Phil was with the car just outside town. The car had made it all the way, but just a couple of miles short, there was a steep hill, and his car didn't have the power to tow ours up it, and into Isoka. We headed back with the petrol to see if it would start, and when it didn't, it was another quick call to Mike (our bush mechanic), who caught a taxi out to us, and within half an hour we were pulling up outside our lodgings for the night.
The following day, we managed to find two local mechanics who set about getting the car back on the road. It was our hope that as long as we could get to Mpika (a slightly bigger town), then we could get it properly fixed up there, and then continue onwards. It worked. After half a days work, and a five or six hour drive, we stuttered into Mpika. The car had just started to show signs of not being altogether well, and we were relieved to have made it. It was late, and so after dinner we went straight to bed. The following morning we located a local mechanic, and after a couple of days work, we were ready to get back on the road once more. We still weren't officially in Zambia, and had seen no sign of an immigration or customs office, but with time ticking away, we headed straight for Kasanka, and our partner organisation 'The Kasanka Trust'.
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