“To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse…” – Sterling Hayden, Wanderer

Perhaps foolishly, we’ve both left secure employment for the unknown. The goal is to spend more time traveling Africa, and to have more time to dedicate to family, friends, and health.

That is all well and good, but what are we actually doing and how are we doing it? I write now from Kommetjie, South Africa, a beach suburb on Cape Town’s southern peninsula. We are here welcoming a new addition to the family, a Land Cruiser 78 Troop Carrier, aka a “Troopy”, so called because they are often used by the military or police to carry troops. Sadly, this means we’ll have to sell the Honey Badger, our long-serving 79 series Cruiser.

The Honey Badger has been a loyal companion for 120,000 kilometers through Africa, but we have learned over time that for long term travel, we’d benefit from the ability to retreat inside once in a while. Jenny and I have forgone dinner to sit in the cab reading books while wind and sand whip around the car in the desert, or have eaten a meal of cheese and crackers in our roof top tent while waiting out torrential rains.

The Troopy

A Troopy will also give us some modicum of privacy if we’re camping in more densely populated areas, or, if it’s been raining, the chance to get out of wet clothes before climbing into bed – a luxury not afforded by a roof top tent that you enter from a ladder on the outside.

To the uninitiated, a Troopy is a 78 series Land Cruiser, while the double cab pickup is a 79. This means that otherwise, the vehicles are pretty much the same. For those that hark for simpler times and vehicles that aren’t like rolling computers, this is the vehicle for you. Remarkably, this model year 2022 Troopy has features that are cutting edge. In 1990. Such as:

• Solid axles front and rear. The axle housings are the diameter of trees.
• No factory radio at all – just a plastic blanking plate.
• The 1HZ engine is naturally aspirated with a mechanical fuel pump.
• “Four on the floor” – a low-range gearbox with that second stubby lever down low, not a push button on the dash.
• Factory front and rear differential locks.
• Ash tray included.
• One cup holder. Clearly, this is a work vehicle and not designed for couples.
• No armrests.
• Some luxuries have been added; it has air conditioning! Power Locks!
• No audible beep when you don’t buckle your seatbelt, open the door with the keys in the ignition. We told a friend about this, and he looked at us in disbelief – “That is freedom,” he said with longing. He drives a Tesla.

There are a thousand vehicles more refined and more comfortable, but this simple workhorse is unfussy about fuel quality, road quality or pretty much anything else. Because of these traits, there are thousands of 70 series Land Cruisers throughout Africa, used by the safari industry, police, military, rebel forces and NGOs alike. A 70 series Cruiser is a bit like lingerie; you pay more to get less.

How are we doing this?

Enough of all that. How does one cast off the yoke of employment and jaunt around Africa in an expensive yet archaic vehicle for the heck of it? Family money? No. Stock options from high powered jobs in tech? No. Just the usual way, the boring way. We spent less than we earned and saved a lot of money. We were both fortunate to work in niche fields and had good jobs, and by buying less house than we could afford, we were able to keep our old condo and rent it out. While we’re over here, we have rental income, savings, and will also do some part-time/contract work for our old jobs. That’s the secret recipe. Let’s hope it works.

What is the plan

When we bought the 79 series Cruiser in 2017, we bought it used from a rental company, and it came all set up to travel and camp from day one.

In that car, we spent one night in a guesthouse and then drove away and camped for the next three weeks. This time around, the Troopy is a blank canvas. With only 25,000 km on it, basically a new car and more or less stock. The only modifications it has are a bull bar, rock sliders, and off road tires – BFG KM3s, 235/85/R16s. Not 285s, we’re not animals.

To buy it, I found the car online and had an agent check it out. They test drove it, had a 3rd-party inspection done, and made a final recommendation. We made the purchase via Wise (more or less a wire transfer, but with a better exchange rate. Referral link here), and our buyer handled the registration.

Last September I flew into Joburg, picked up the car and drove it straight to Cape Town to Alu-Cab to have the roof chopped off and a roof conversion installed. If you’re unfamiliar with these – think a Westfalia type camper van pop-top, as opposed to the roof top tent that just bolts to the top of the car. This is the critical feature that allows us to transform the Troopy from a utilitarian bush taxi to a small off-road camper.

South Africa is perhaps the best place in the world to get this sort of work on a vehicle done. Workshop rates are inexpensive, and some of the best 4×4 products are made here.

Arriving in Cape Town in late January, you’d hope that we had a whole plan in place to get the car converted to bush-ready ASAP. We didn’t. We have a good idea of what we want done, but this is a sizable project, and the vendors that do this sort of work here are not big on email and remote customers.

Walk through their door, and they’re great. But try to plan an overland vehicle build remotely – near impossible (we tried). A cottage industry of 4×4 vehicle consultants is borne out of this inefficiency, and you can pay a sort of 4×4 general contractor to manage this for you. This service is expensive and doesn’t always go according to plan, so we’re doing this ourselves.

Tales of vehicle builds gone wrong are many. We heard of people who dropped their car off at a reputable shop in April and it was still not done in October. Another went to a famous 4×4 outfitter and has had their vehicle there since October, and it is still not done in February, and what has been done has been sub-standard. Dangerous electrical installations are common, we know of one person who’s vehicle caught fire and burned completely, a total loss, due to an uninsulated wire installed without a fuse. Patronizing shop owners telling us what we want are many, and delays are near certain.

Not all adventures in Africa are elephants and river crossings. Instead, we’ll be navigating the scrum of traffic in Cape Town, haggling over build details, prices and schedule in the industrial part of the city and running a million errands.

Our daily lives look a lot different here than they do on our usual trips in the bush. We’re staying in a lovely cottage near the beach, courtesy of Jenny’s good friend Sarah. For the time being, we are house and dog sitting while Sarah is away. The two terrors that run our lives are Stan and Steve, two Jack Russells full of personality.

Kommetjie, our little beach suburb, started long ago as a small fishing village and spot for weekenders to visit from Cape Town. Now there’s no commercial fishing and it’s pretty much a surf and beach spot, primarily for South Africans, though some international tourists also find their way here. Here in the Cape’s “Deep South”, as it is known, there is a boho vibe behind the lentil curtain. It is a part of Africa very different from most of the country and the Africa we’re familiar with further north. Oat milk lattes and vegan menus abound. The Mediterranean climate is lovely, though the Cape’s famous blustery wind is common.

To get to Cape Town, where most of the 4×4 outfitters and vehicle shops are, it means a trip “over the mountain” via Oukaapseweg, a winding pass over a saddle in the Steenberg mountains. Going over the mountain is something of a commitment to leaving the bubble of the Deep South and diving into the grittier side of Cape Town. Instead of the haunts of pretty people and tourists at Sea Point and Camps Bay our stomping grounds have become Ottery, Brakenfell and Stikland, where suppliers, workshops and warehouses abound.

We landed on January 21st. We hope to be camping in a mostly converted vehicle by the end of March. Is it possible? Stay tuned to find out.

In the morning, a young man looking for his livestock stopped by. We exchanged some greetings but were otherwise stymied from communicating, the language barrier being too high. He asked for food, a request we would normally demur. But here we were, camping in his homeland and his space, and we did not want to be the tourists who come in and take over, resulting in resentment from the populace. So we offered a couple of potatoes, and he was very happy with this. Perhaps this is how the begging culture is started, perhaps we are suckers, or maybe he was just hungry. 

A little over two hours later, we arrived at the village of Iona. This outpost has long been settled, the seat of the chefe de posto, the local government representative. It’s a village with a couple of dozen buildings spread out on the scenic valley floor. We saw an ambulance, a water point and general trappings of an organized village. There were some power lines here and there, so perhaps there is a generator running at night.

There is a stretch that is quite steep, and Jenny spotted me as we crept down slowly. In the back of my mind, I’d wondered what we’d do on these steep sections if we got to a washout. Backing up a steep section would not be easy. At these tricky sections, Jenny scouted ahead to make sure we wouldn’t paint ourselves into a corner we couldn’t get out of. Finally, the land flattened out, and I was able to loosen my grip on the wheel a bit.

The land is parched here, no sign of recent rain, and we picked up speed as the road smoothed out. Across more sandy riverbeds, over more rocks, passed some abandoned huts, and finally, we approached the Cunene River. 

The road spills onto the riverbank just opposite the Okahirnogo River Camp that sits on the Namibian shore of the river. It’s an incongruous sight, having just spent days and days driving into the remote hinterland of Angola, with hardly more than the odd mud and stick hut to be seen, and, ta-da! Here was a lovely lodge. Mind you, this lodge is quite remote itself, way up in the very top of Namibia, but to us it seemed like the big city. 

We followed the track along the river, through some soft spots that had recently flooded and up onto a rocky plain. Here we could look over and see a handful of simple huts, and we got a startled look from some locals as we waved down from the top of a rocky hill.

The precise GPS coordinates given on the African Park’s map for this campsite seemed a bit oddly placed, on the top of a rocky rise (no road in sight here), exposed to wind and with no access to the river, as well as relatively near this settlement. We backtracked a bit and found a spot just where the road meets the river and settled in. 

She set to work and cleaned out almost all of the debris. With our fingers crossed and a bit nervous, we started the engine. To our great relief, the needle plummeted back to normal range and we were back in business. 

The views continued to astonish as we moved closer to the coast. Fairy circles pockmarked the landscape and hour after hour, we drove through the amazing landscapes of Iona. In the distance we saw a couple of ostrich, shimming black dots in the heat, and the odd springbok.

Picking our way along we saw our first real wildlife, a handful of oryx. They were handsome, but also skittish, and left us in the dust. To our surprise, a few hills later we saw a huge herd of oryx, the biggest we’ve ever seen, over 100 animals. They did not like the looks of us, and took off at pace into the plains.

Chitake Springs is within Mana Pools National Park, but it is an entirely different experience than the riverfront, where most visitors spend their time. The Chitake area is dry miombo woodland, comprised primarily of jesse bush and mopane, punctuated by fig and baobab trees. The springs themselves lie in bottom of the usually dry Nyadara riverbed are the only water source for many miles. 

Because of this, all the resident animals must come to drink from the springs, and a pride of lions and other sundry predators have set up shop, knowing that their prey must come to them.  Reportedly, there is a large pride of lions in residence who kill daily to sate the hunger of their large numbers. 

Chitake is raw African bush; hot, dry and infested with tsetse flies. There are four campsites in the area. There area has almost no roads for game driving. Instead, it is a place to go and be in the wild and see what you can see at the springs. We bumped into the guide we had met at the lions again, Stretch Ferreira, and when he heard we were headed to Chitake he advised us to find the fig tree on the embankment above the springs and to have patience and sit quietly there all day, to let the game come to us. 

The brave might muster themselves to do their own bush walk, but here the scrub is thick and visibility poor. A pride of lions might be behind any bush. In 2010 a camper was killed by lions here, memorialized by a small plaque on the fig tree by the springs. In that case, the victim went a short distance from his fellow campers to shower in privacy at dusk. Certainly, this story loomed in our minds as we camped at Chitake. We always stick close to the vehicle, particularly at dusk and darkness.

We couldn’t get this notion of seeing game on foot out of our heads, but we also weren’t confident enough to waltz up to anything, leaving us with this idea that an opportunity was passing us by. Clearly, walking with the Zimparks rangers was not going to get us there; Allan, our ranger from the morning bush walk, had studiously avoided going near any animals, and this echoed what Stretch had told us to expect as we had chatted the night before (he was one of the vehicles camped out at the lions in the grass the evening before). Allan had mentioned that some guides do close approaches, calling out Stretch by name, who we had learned was famous for getting his clients very close to elephants. Allan shook his head in disapproval, noting that Stretch’s luck would eventually run out, and either he or a client would get killed. 

I can’t comment on that, only that Stretch has been in the bush since the Bush War in the 1970s, and Allan has been a ranger for five years. I will say that upon hearing that, our first reaction was, “Well, I guess we better sign up for a Stretch safari before anything happens!” Thus, the seed took hold that perhaps we might try to join a professional safari after our time at Chitake. 

Driving out to Chitake is a routine affair, head back towards the gate and suffer through corrugations, continue inland at the Nyakasikana checkpoint and take the turnoff (perhaps even signposted!). 

About two kilometers of bush track brought us near the springs. The road was a bit rougher and went through a couple of dry dongas. As we approached the first campsites before the river, we saw a tragic sight: a single Land Rover being loaded onto a flatbed, no doubt with some terminal condition while there were two Land Cruisers parked in camp. 

We drove on, down a steep riverbank, across the dry sandy riverbed and up the other side, which seemed like it’d be rough going if you had a trailer. This brought us to the famous fig tree, and we stopped to peek at the springs and see if there was any action, scoping out our surroundings for the next few days. There was no action at the springs, so we headed up to our campsite at Chitake Baobab.

The Chitake Baobab site lies about one kilometer south of the springs themselves, on the top of a hill adorned with about a dozen mature baobab trees. There is no specific campsite per se, but plenty of logical spots to set up. The general lack of scrub and brush meant no tsetse flies, which is nice; I have heard others being terrorized for their entire stay. There are no facilities at all. 

We still had some time, so we continued to explore the area. Chitake No. 2 was reportedly booked, but nobody was there so we stopped in for a look. This camp is the closest to the springs but lacks the same atmosphere (and shade) of camp No. 1 and the baobab site. 

Given that it was pretty quiet on the game front, we found ourselves timidly cracking the door of safari on foot. From camp No. 2 we took a brief stroll along the embankment above the river. This area has a lot of scrub brush around, and we found ourselves on very high alert. Like a puppy let off the leash that won’t stray far from its owner, a magnetism drew us back to the vehicle in relatively short order.

Chitake Baobab is ideally located for sundowners, and if you camp here, you can expect to get a visit from the campers from the other sites that have no such view. The Land Cruiser guys from camp No. 1 stopped by and they were having a great time. The Land Rover casualty was the culmination of a many-year rivalry between friends, and they were triumphant that they’d finally won, with a token acknowledgment of their friend’s misfortune (and no doubt great expense) of having to get your vehicle recovered from Chitake Springs.

Camp for the evening was magical. We had Mexican mini burritos for dinner by the fire, surrounded by huge baobabs, it was wonderful. There was no sign of the famous Chitake lions yet.

The next day, we resolved to spend the day at the fig tree, watching the springs and lounging about. We made the short drive there and had a leisurely breakfast while sitting in our camp chairs at the riverbank. This spot is perfectly located, affording shade and good visibility of the springs while also being high up on the bank and set back enough to not disturb animals coming to drink. 

It was quiet for a long time. This is a different type of safari experience, and I can imagine that sitting around for hours isn’t for everyone. We did some birding and reading, took a couple of short exploratory walks nearby and drank a lot of coffee.

On the river’s opposite bank is a long ramp of sand that is well-trodden with animal tracks. This is clearly the favorite approach. It was still and hot, and by late morning, we had begun to see dust kicked up by something. Eventually, a large and extremely skittish herd of impala showed up. It took them a long time to work up the courage to come to the springs, and we imagined they had been traumatized by past encounters with lions here. They finally did drink and then were off quickly back into the bush. 

Another hour or two went by, and more dust was being kicked up. We could hear the lowing of buffalo, another famous resident of Chitake. The area supports huge herds, and it appeared they had come for a drink. This, too, took a very long time. They crept forward and peered down toward the spring. They’d stop, shuffle around, and then one or two would take a few more tentative steps down the bank and stop again. The whole process would repeat, with the rest of the herd working closer. When they were only 15 meters from the spring, the herd gave a collective, “to hell with it,” they threw caution to the wind, rushing down to the spring to drink. 

The herd was hundreds of buffalo strong, and it was exciting to watch. They hadn’t appeared to notice us, but we were in the shade with a little bit of scrub to obscure us. We watched a lot of interesting interactions as the herd slaked their thirst. Secretly we were hoping some lions would burst out of the bush to hunt, but instead after a while the buffalos had their fill and retreated back up the riverbank. 

Our last visitor for the day was a lone bull elephant. He, too, took his time making his way down to the springs, first posing for us alongside a baobab tree. 

It was another great night in camp. We returned to the springs in the morning, remembering Stretch’s advice that patience was required here and the game would come to us. We were a teeny bit disappointed; we’d heard from others who complained endlessly about how terrifying Chitake was, that they couldn’t sleep because of the lions roaring right next to their tent all night and how they felt they couldn’t step out of the car since there were lions all over the place. That wasn’t our experience thus far, but it was still a special place.

It was back to the fig tree to stake out the springs today. Not long after, we were joined by a father and son from New Zealand. The son had just completed his guiding certification and internship from the FGASA (Field Guide’s Association of Southern Africa) and was on a father-son trip to Zimbabwe. It was really interesting to talk to someone who had just gone to guide school, and Jenny and I spent the afternoon fantasizing about getting our guide certification. 

We were treated to another visit by a very large herd of buffalo. This time, I spent some time slowly working along the riverbank to get some photos from a different perspective. I was slow and stayed low, dressed in safari khakis, and even from a good distance, the buffalo had their eyes on me and were not happy. I was mindful that if they wanted to, they could easily charge. The advice from our Massai friend in Kenya returned to me, “The buffalo is not a friendly animal.” This is from a guy who would happily walk up to lions on foot. 

The father-and-son duo moved on, and we were then visited by a guide and his client, who were staying at the Chitake site reserved for tour operators.

The guide’s name was Steve, and he was extremely knowledgeable. He generously shared many interesting facts and thoughts with us, his non-clients. Though he was South African, it turned out he had his PhD from UC Davis, which is not far from where we live in California. He had guided in South Africa before but was drawn to the strict standards in Zimbabwe and had come here to test his mettle. 

He had quite a few opinions that we found fascinating. In particular, he smarted at the double standard that the rangers could act as walking guides from Nyamepi HQ, but as a certified guide, he was required to undergo years of training and rigorous tests. The ranger’s training is much briefer and has a different focus. He pointed out that the firearms they carry are not of a high enough caliber to stop a buffalo or elephant and thus serve no real purpose for a walking safari. 

We saw them again at sunset at the Baobabs. He told us that this didn’t used to be a campsite and was reserved as a sundowner spot. Then, the park started using it as an overflow campsite, and now it is a bookable site at Chitake. He shared a bunch of other interesting facts with us and was clearly excited about all aspects of nature and the environment.

After sunset, we were alone for our final night in Chitake and heard the first roar of lions. They were a long way off, but it was fantastic to hear them. 

As we sat around the fire we talked about what would happen after this. We had no more bookings but we both agreed we needed to stay longer at Mana. Guide Steve told us a couple of tales of wildlife encounters on foot and we got even more excited about the idea of being able to go with a proper guide on foot. It seems the only way to do this is by paying for a high end safari. Steve also had opinions about Stretch Ferreira, whom he knew well, and his stories got us even more excited about the idea of trying to join Stretch for a few days. 

The end of our trip was approaching; we had only three weeks before we had to be in Windhoek and catch a flight home. By now, we had confirmed that we did have jobs waiting for us upon our return (this was not 100% guaranteed when we started this venture), so we resolved to head back to Nyamepi the next day and see if we could blow the budget on a few days with Stretch Ferreira Safaris. 

It was a magical night in camp, the stars were out and we were dreaming big dreams of animals on foot in Africa, lions were roaring in the distance and all was right in the world. Jenny decided to head to bed, and I thought I’d stay up a bit longer and make some notes for the blog. 

After Jenny was in the tent, the lions started roaring more and were closer. Exciting! Another 20 minutes went by, and clear and loud, a hyena started whooping not far away. There was some action in the bush tonight. I moved my chair so its back was against the car so that nothing could sneak up on me. 

Then we heard the call of a leopard, like a rough-toothed cross-cut saw rhythmically sawing through wood. It was loud, much louder than we’d ever heard before. The roar of lions, whoop of hyena and now leopard sawing all felt like they were triangulating in on me. Jenny was making some commentary from the tent on me still being out of the car at this point, and that was it for me; time for bed!

Retreating to the tent, we could hear the leopard’s call traversing around us. It sounded like it must be walking around the baobabs. The lions, too, got closer. It was shaping up to be an exciting night.  

The lions kept getting closer, and when we shined our big flashlight around, we saw a couple of lions walking down the road only ten meters away, heading toward the springs. We counted 13 lions. Fantastic.

The next morning we hoped we’d find the lions on a kill near the springs, but no luck. We lingered a while, but then it was time to head back to Nyamepi HQ and see if we could swing the next phase of our Mana Pools visit.  

The wifi signal at HQ wouldn’t support much, but I found the phone number and we began WhatsApp’ing Stretch’s office. The rate was eye-watering, more than we had guessed. After some back and forth and a lot of agonizing on our part, we negotiated a last-minute price reduction and booked two nights with Stretch Ferreira Safaris, starting that afternoon. 

Wish us luck!

The Nitty Gritty

Bookings

Chitake Springs needs to be booked ahead of time; you’d have to be very lucky to get any walk-in availability. For bookings, you can try your luck with the Zimparks online booking system, or contact Noel Manyerere at nmanyerere@zimparks.org.zw +263 77 749 0390.

Payment will be by bank transfer or wire transfer. When we managed to get our walk-in availability for Chitake, we paid cash at Nyamepi HQ. I don’t remember if they take credit cards.

Campsites

Chitake has five campsites:

• Chitake No. 1 is adjacent to the river (normally dry) and well shaded. According to the booking page this site is $300 night (all sites are a maximum of 6 people).

• Chitake No. 2 is the closest to the springs and this proximity means it’s probably the most likely to get nighttime lion action, if there is a kill at or near the springs. This site is listed at $200/night.

• Chitake No. 3 and 3b are tour operator sites and can’t be booked by the public. These are on either side of No. 1 and are marked on T4A as “Road Closed” and “Picnic spot,” respectively. I have heard that occasionally they allow self drivers to stay at one of these if it is not booked by a tour operator, but it can’t be booked ahead.

• Chitake Baobab, which you have read about, is also listed at $200/night.

Jenny and I debated what we would do if we could come back to Chitake again and price was not a concern. How long would we stay? Which site would we choose? We’d go for No. 1 for seven nights in September or October. It’d be brutally hot, full of tsetse flies, but would maximize animal viewing potential. 

I’d be tempted to split it with No. 2, hoping for some nighttime lion mayhem, but the site has minimal shade, no view and no atmosphere. And it is surrounded by brush; if the lions come, you won’t know until they are on top of you. 

I’d take any site for any duration; it’s a really special place. If you go to book a visit to Chitake, don’t sweat too much about which site is available.

I’m told that Chitake 1 and 3b have longdrops, but we did not see them. The longdrop at No. 2 is abysmal. Be prepared for no facilities; these are bush camps. 

Game viewing

Since our visit T4A has added a “No Entry” marker to the track on the north side of the river. When we visited you could drive a couple of kilometers of this before getting to a “do not enter sign.” If this is no longer accessible, it is a bit of a shame, but really game driving here isn’t the thing to do. The thing to do is to camp by the springs and see what you can see. At camp No.1, you are on the bank of the riverbed, and I expect you’d see wildlife traversing the riverbed to get to and from the springs. 

Depending on the time of year and strength of the springs, the water may or may not make it’s way as far as campsites 1 and 3/3b. Even if it does not make it this far, the animals will no doubt traverse the riverbed to get to the nearby water.

I’m told it’s possible to organize a guide to rendezvous with you to lead on a proper safari on foot, but I don’t know how to do this. If we do make it again we’ll try this, but I would try for a fully certified guide and not a ranger from HQ.

Day Visits

You can day visit Chitake. You need a permit, obtainable at Nyamepi HQ. It’s 56 km and about an hour and a half drive from Nyamepi, so it’s quite a commitment to go out there only for a day. I’m not sure it’s worth it, but on the other hand, if you weren’t able to get a campsite at Chitake and you wanted to experience it, you’d have a good chance of buffalo herds visiting the springs midday, and you’d get to scope out the feel of things and see what all the fuss was about. 

For more reading on Chitake and Mana Pools, I strongly recommend Stan Weakley’s trip report from 2010; still salient.

Note: This post might not be for everyone. It is long, and only covers two days! And I didn’t take many pics on these days, so it is mostly text. These days were packed and among our most interesting. If you’re pressed for time I recommend the section about money changing, it’s bananas. I have provided quick links below if you want to skip ahead.

A Primer on Zimbabwean Politics

It is time for us to go to Zimbabwe, but before we do, a small preface. It would be a disservice to skip over any mention of Zimbabwe’s politics, race, or unpleasantness. These are sensitive and complex topics. I hope, even in my brevity, I do them justice. If I offend you, I apologize, but I feel it’s better to mention these things rather than not. Visiting all these places isn’t just about nice sunsets and elephants; it’s about trying to understand and untangle the most complex mammals, humans.

A few days earlier, we were camped at Savuti in Chobe National Park and Jenny had a conversation with our South African camp neighbors. During this chat, they mentioned, “Well, since you can’t go to Zimbabwe right now….” This naturally piqued Jenny’s interest since we were headed there in a few days. Jenny asked why and the woman explained that, as South Africans, they know that Zimbabwe is corrupt, that travelers are hassled, that police solicit bribes and that it’s not safe.  

This is not our impression. But it is the impression and belief of many white South Africans we have met. Brutal crimes have punctuated Zimbabwe’s past. Particularly vivid in the memory of the white African population are the land grabs and farm murders of the early 2000s. 

The origins of the farm seizures are long simmering and complex. The forced takeover of farms motivated many of the white population to flee the country, and those who remained lived under Mugabe’s specter, wondering what he would do next. Of course, black Zimbabweans experienced oppression and violence at the hands of Ian Smith’s white government before independence in 1980.

The land grabs and later hassling of travelers by police with small-level shakedowns branded Zimbabwe as an unwelcoming place for travelers. The farm takeovers also turbocharged the loss of productivity of Zimbabwe’s impressive agricultural capacity, contributing to the currency’s collapse. This resulted in the second-highest rate of hyperinflation in history (see Hungary, post WWII for the highest), at a very impressive 98% per day. Today inflation is a little more under control, year on year around a mere 95%.

Recent events in South Africa have returned these memories to the fore. The South African government has moved to enact a law allowing involuntary land expropriation by the government, an attempt to follow through on an old and long unfulfilled promise by the ANC to increase black land ownership. This reignited concerns by some white South Africans that South Africa is headed the same way as Zimbabwe.

Not all Africans, white or black, think it will go that far. The new South African law, yet to be passed, is explicit in what land can be taken without compensation, namely abandoned land, state land and land held for speculative purposes. The big question, and I cannot emphasize this enough, is how the new law would be applied in practice if passed. 

This is all to say that a vocal segment of the white South African population views Zimbabwe with skepticism, fear and anger, as a harbinger and prophetic example of their future. 

Meanwhile, Zimbabwe’s current economy is so sluggish and without opportunity that many Zimbabweans are immigrating legally and illegally into South Africa. The fear that Zimbabweans are taking South Africans’ jobs is pervasive among the black South African community and has led to xenophobic attacks against immigrants. 

This history is much more knotty than I have described, but suffice it to say that Zimbabwe and South Africa’s histories are intertwined and messy. Any African, black or white, has something to say about Zimbabwe, South Africa and politics. 

Against this backdrop, we entered Zimbabwe. 

Kasane-Zim Border Crossing

Our day started in Kasane, Botswana. Our friends Gerry and Ronda were with us for their last day, and we wanted to take them on the classic day trip to Victoria Falls, just east across the border. It was 8 o’clock when we drove away from our campsite at Chobe Safari Lodge towards the border, justa 10 minute drive away.

Just before the border, there is an intersection where if you go straight, you end up in Zambia in a few hundred meters, and if you take a right, you end up in Zimbabwe in a few minutes. Don’t make a wrong turn! 

There is always a swarm of day trip visitors to Vic Falls, herded in tour busses and shepherded by guides who organize these trips every day. We were just ahead of the crush. This was Gerry and Ronda’s first border crossing, and we had briefed them the way a coach briefs a sports team, with urgency and detail. 

Top tip for any African border crossing: bring a pen; they are always in short supply. 

Armed with four pens, we sailed through Botswanan immigration and customs in just a few minutes. The officers are used to the swarm of day visitors and didn’t ask any questions or care to inspect our vehicle. 

On the Zimbabwe side, the typical border “agents” or runners spotted us and wanted to help. Once we told them it wasn’t a rental vehicle, they relaxed their attack, and we managed to start the process unassisted. The first stop was health, where our covid cards were scrutinized, then onto immigration. 

Moments after our arrival, a line of day visitor tour groups formed behind us. Next time, we’ll leave Kasane at 7:45 instead of 8:00, when the tours seem to depart. Jenny and I got our visas first, but then one of two immigration officers wandered away for 15 minutes, leaving Gerry and Ronda marooned at the window. I was almost happy they were getting a classic border experience, a delay with no explanation. This was their first time in Africa, and their Botswana experience had been entirely too smooth. 

I received my visa and was freed to go to customs to clear the vehicle. After a security guard managed to find the customs officer, things went pretty smoothly, and we chatted while he filled out all the paperwork. $20 USD paid the road and carbon tax, and right around when the rest of our party finally got their visas I was done at customs. We were through.

The drive from the border to Victoria Falls town is about 45 minutes, through scrubland and dry forest that is a hunting safari concession or further along the Zambezi National Park (not to be confused with Zambia’s Lower Zambezi National Park). This drive was a chance to catch our breath from the border crossing and relax before heading into the fray of touristy Victoria Falls on a holiday weekend.

The town of Victoria Falls is a land apart from the rest of Zimbabwe. Many visitors on safari in Zambia and Botswana tack on a short visit to Vic Falls at the end of their safari, never venturing further into Zimbabwe. The government knows this and has invested heavily. The town is very safe, with tourist police all over the place on foot patrols. After covid vaccines became available, Zimbabwe focused heavily on vaccinating the citizens of Victoria Falls, hoping to restore at least some tourist revenue. Here the vaccination rate rivals western countries, whereas the rest of Zimbabwe languished, like much of Africa, in the low double digits. 

We drove straight to Victoria Falls National Park and snagged the last parking spot inside the gated parking area. Immediately upon stepping out, we were swarmed by hawkers. Under this press we managed to establish who would watch the car, a Mr. “KGB” (best to get this over with, as it’ll happen one way or the other), and we agreed to have our car washed while we visited the park, settling on a price ⅓ of his initial offer.

The line into the Park was long; one ticket kiosk was out of order. It took a long time to get in, but it was worth it, the falls are fantastic, and we were excited to show our friends this wonder. As with our previous visits, the falls really impressed. Jenny and I hadn’t visited during this season, having previously seen peak flow and the falls at their lowest flow, so it was nice to see them at this mid-level, where water is spilling across the entire 1.7 kilometer face of the falls, yet not so much water that the spray obscures the view. 

After a morning of wandering around the various viewpoints along the face of the falls, we retreated to the Victoria Falls Hotel for lunch. I’m sure this isn’t the best lunch available in Vic Falls town (as we say, “you can get better, but you can’t pay more!”), but the hotel’s long history, very colonial in feel, is interesting, and the hotel is a tranquil break from the hustle and bustle of town. 

In the afternoon, we splurged on a helicopter flight over the falls. It was incredible to see the falls from the air, particularly the deep clefts of the canyons zig-zagging downstream of the falls. These gorges were the locations of the previous falls tens of thousands of years ago. In another 10,000 years the Zambezi river will have carved yet another face to the falls, leaving the one we saw today dry and dormant.

After the flight, we said goodbye to Gerry and Ronda, who took a shuttle back to Kasane, where they’d continue to Cape Town for the last leg of their African trip.

We camped at the N1 hotel that night, which allows camping on the lawn next to the pool ($10 USD pppn). It’s right in town, but even on this Saturday night, it wasn’t too loud. There were a couple of other international overlanders camping here, and we all had a friendly chat for a while, swapping notes and travel stories.

Before departing, one of our chores was getting a local SIM card for our phones. Because it was Saturday Econet shop was closed, ostensibly the only place to get SIM cards. 

As anyone who has been in Vic Falls for more than five minutes will have experienced, when you walk on the street unaccompanied by a guide, you’ll be endlessly approached by hawkers trying to sell either small wood carvings or defunct Zimbabwean dollars of tremendously high denominations, now worthless except for souvenirs. “I will make you a Billionaire my friend.” is a common refrain. 

We’d been declining these offers all day while pondering how to get a SIM card. After chatting with George, who had tried to sell us both some billion dollar notes and a small carved hippo, I said, “George, you know what I really need?” He froze, instantly recognizing this was not the standard denial of his services; he had a fish on the hook! He looked on expectantly, ready to fulfill any requirement. “We need SIM cards for our phones, but the shop is closed for the next three days. Can you help us get them?”.

He agreed to try to get two SIM cards and return in half an hour. Sure enough, he brought one Econet SIM and one Netone SIM. After haggling, we settled on a price and installed the cards to ensure they worked before paying. We paid a premium for this SIM concierge service, but it seemed worth it, given the alternative. 

The Murky World of Zimbwean Economics 

In the morning, we decided to leave for the long drive to Chizarira (342km) no later than 10:00. This turned out to be too late a departure, but we didn’t know that then. Before leaving we had to provision, which would also be our indoctrination into a byzantine system of Zimbabwean currency and financial transactions. 

In brief, Zimbabwe has had four currencies, each abandoned after hyperinflation rendered them worthless. It’s now on its 5th series, with moderate success. Perhaps this time, under the new president, it’ll stick? 

The currency now in use is the Zimbabwean dollar, ZWL, also known as “bond notes” or occasionally colloquially, “Zollars.” The problem with the bond notes is that there isn’t enough actual physical currency circulating in the country to do business with any practicality. Without enough paper notes, there isn’t anything to trade with. 

Enter the RTGS. The RTGS (real time gross settlement) is the electronic form of the bond note, used from cell phone to cell phone, like mobile money and Mpesa in Kenya, described in previous blog posts.

The US Dollar is also used, so all goods can be bought in either USD, bond notes or RTGS if you have mobile signal and an Ecocash account on your phone. The official exchange rate for bond notes to USD is lower than the street value, in large part because the ZWL is not an internationally recognized currency. This means that typical economic factors do not determine the exchange rate. The street value fluctuates, even in the week I watched it, at something like double the official rate. Check zimrates.com for the latest actual rates.

What happens when you go into a store and buy something with an international credit card? Remember, there is no practical way to arm yourself with enough physical bond notes to do business, so changing USD cash on the street for bond notes to get a better rate is impossible. We didn’t have an Ecocash account, so we couldn’t get the black market rate with RTGS sent to our phones. 

The discrepancy between the official and street rates is so significant* that stores that accept foreign credit cards offer a “mid rate,” something in between the two rates. Thus there are three exchange rates for a currency that nobody recognizes outside Zim, and you can’t get anyway, even if you want some. Welcome to Zimbabwe! 

*I’m told the rates are now much closer.

I had read online that a curious industry had popped up due to all these fiscal shenanigans, and I went to investigate. Jenny headed into the Pick n’ Pay supermarket, and I started by first going to top our diesel. Fuel shortages are another conundrum in Zimbabwe. While in Zim we’ll abide by Jenny’s maxim, “When traveling in Africa, never pass up a shower or a fuel station.” Unlike the previous fuel station we’d been to that morning, this one had diesel. 

At the pump I asked the attendant if anyone here would pay for my groceries for me. 

If this sounds ridiculous, it is. The attendant didn’t bat an eye and said, “Yes.” Pointing at a plump woman on the street corner. She yelled over to her in the local language and introduced us. 

I met Anna and asked how it works. She said she would give me her local debit card, and I could go in and use it to purchase groceries. When we came out with the receipt in ZWL, we’d convert it to USD and pay her cash. Because she’d give us a better rate than the Pick n’ Pay rate, we’d get a discount on our provisions. I asked her what rate she’d give me, and she said 650. The official rate at the time was 458. 

Now we were at four exchange rates: the official rate, the street rate, the mid-rate and the Anna rate. Effectively Anna and I would be splitting the profit, the discrepancy between the street rate and the official rate, enabled by our US Dollars and her Zimbabwean bank account.

As I wavered, she thrust her debit card at me and said, “The PIN is 2034. I will wait outside for you. No problem.” 

Money and economies are strange things. They only work based on trust. Money has value because we believe it to have value. A dollar bill can’t perform any actual work or service other than as a medium of exchange; it’s just paper. Here I was, in a country where a lack of trust in the currency and the rule of law had driven the country’s economy into the ground with hyperinflation, yet a woman I’d just met gave me her bank card and PIN without hesitation. Trust. 

I headed into the Pick n’ Pay to rendezvous with Jenny. On the way in, I asked a cashier about the rate for a foreign credit card; she responded, “511.” We were at five exchange rates, and it wasn’t even 10 AM. 

After shopping in the exceptionally well stocked and spotlessly clean supermarket, we checked out. Anna’s debit card worked fine, and we got our receipt indicating some 72,000 ZWL. Outside I wandered around until I found Anna and showed her the receipt. We did the math together on my phone, and I handed over $111 USD, earning us a 26% discount on groceries. 

More than the discount was that it felt fun and very interesting to participate in this curious corner of economics. I had a great time. Feeling the spirit of Zimbabweanhustle and knowing that Anna was clearly a woman who could make things happen, I asked her if she could sell us some airtime. Yes, she could do that too. We made another deal. 

This was made in a group of five or six ladies hanging out on the street corner. These women are a small cartel of money sellers, changers and debit card lenders, making their living in this complex world of dealing. 

I thought having a few physical bond notes might be handy and fun, and Anna introduced me to another woman who dealt in physical cash. I wanted to exchange $40 USD for bond notes, and she looked at me like I was an idiot. “How much can I get?” She said 2000, at 400:1. We haggled over the exchange rate and I got her to 500:1. $4 USD got me a fist full of blue-green $20 bond notes. I was beginning to think the street rate I’d seen on zimrates.com of 800:1 was not for a dumb tourist like me. After all this, we hit the road, excited to dive into Zimbabwe. 

A Breakdown

Heading out of town the road is in good shape and the tarmac lead us easily over long rolling hills. The land here, mostly woodland, looks dry as we leave the green banks of the Zambezi River. As soon as we passed the Victoria Falls Airport the condition of the tar took a turn for the worse, but it still wasn’t too bad. The only police roadblock so far just waived us through.

At the town of Hwange, we entered coal country. There are signs in English and Chinese for collieries and coal coking plants. The roads are in terrible shape due to all the heavily loaded coal trucks heading back and forth. In the distance, we saw tall towers of processing plants flaring, burning off excess gas. There was a fuel station here, and we topped up on fuel at the cost of $1.85 USD a liter. Yikes.

Top tip: Fuel stations are one of the few places that are likely to be able to make change in USD.

Along the roadside are occasional stacks of firewood, baobab seed pods and sacks of something we could not identify. Needing firewood, we pulled over. As usual, someone materialized to make the sale, and we loaded up on heavy mopane wood. While stopped, Jenny asked about the thing we could not identify, a sack of what, on closer inspection, appeared to be dung. The man confirmed that it was. 

He explained that this indicates that the seller has charcoal for sale, but if they leave charcoal on the road to sell, they get hassled by police. We supposed that charcoal is a regulated business. In other countries, this is done to control deforestation; I don’t know the rules in Zimbabwe. The bag of dung was a thinly veiled screen against regulatory control. 

After coal country, we turned onto a road marked on the map simply as “road” and found ourselves on gravel in proper rural Zimbabwe. We put on an audiobook of Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, The Long Walk To Freedom. Driving through the backwaters of Zimbabwe, rumbling over the dirt roads, and listening to Mandela’s tales of boyhood in the rural Transkei of South Africa was transportive. 

Initially the road is steep and hilly, with some hair-raising bends if taken at too much speed. There were also numerous bridges over mostly dry riverbeds, and each bridge seemed more dilapidated than the last. They were narrow one way strips of concrete, hardly wider than the vehicle and with no guard rails or curbs whatsoever. 

In a particularly empty stretch of straight gravel road, punctuated by potholes and corrugations and amongst scrub mopane forest, we saw a car broken down in the middle of the road. Drawing closer, we saw it was a Toyota Hilux with a rooftop tent, missing a front wheel, with two chairs set up in the shade. 

Two lanky young men got up as we arrived, and we asked if we could help. They were from Holland, on a month long trip with a vehicle borrowed from a friend in Cape Town. This rough road had taken its toll, and the front wheel had come off while they were driving, which in turn had caused damage to the front left ball joint of the Hilux. 

They had very little in the way of tools. As we started to see if we had anything that could help, a minibus approached, heading in the opposite direction. They stopped, and the passengers poured out for a break while a few guys from the bus surveyed the situation. 

One passenger from the bus turned out to be a mechanic, who introduced himself as Sylvester. After assessing the situation, he thought he could help. He told the minibus driver to continue, he and his brother would stay to help the tourists. 

Over the next two hours we labored on the Hilux, trying to devise “an improvisation,” as Sylvester put it. The best we could hope for was a repair enabling the Dutch tourists, Tom and Simon, to limp to the nearest workshop.

There were missing nuts, damaged threads, sheared cotter pins, a bent stabilizer bar and sheared lug nuts. We were missing the crucial tools, a key wrench size that would have made the job relatively practical. In the end, using three jacks, our tools and parts, baling wire, and several of our spare fasteners, the progress reached a place where our resources were no longer needed. The sun was sinking low in the sky, and we were anxious to get on the road to try to reach Chizarira before it was too late.

Sylvester did all this work wearing his Sunday outfit, a blindingly white t-shirt, clean dark jeans without a blemish and fashionable black leather shoes with pointed toes. I remarked that he was doing an admirable job of staying relatively clean, and he responded, “My wife will beat me.” And we all laughed.

They planned to divert to Binga, about 40 km away, where Sylvester lived and had a workshop. Sylvester said more than once that you must help people broken down on the side of the road because it could be you the next time. It was a great introduction to the Zimbabwean spirit; he and his brother stopped and derailed their afternoon to help stranded travelers. No doubt Tom and Simon will compensate them one way or another, but this was never brought up when we were there. 

Simon felt bad that we had stayed with them so long and urged us to go, thanking us for our time, tools and help. They were getting the tire on the hub as we left. We drove off and made the turn to Chizarira at dusk, driving the ascent into the park in darkness. 

The road was narrow and bumpy, but we kept it slow and had no problems, wondering what we’d find at the gate. Would the rangers let us drive into the park in darkness, or maybe we’d have to camp at the gate? 

The guards at the gate didn’t seem fussed about our late arrival, particularly after learning that we had a prior booking. After signing in, we were allowed to proceed to our booked campsite, Kaswiswi 1, in total darkness. I drove slowly, blindly following the GPS. Partway along, we heard the angry trumpeting of an elephant close by. This got my blood pumping; I half expected to feel the Cruiser lurch as a tusk punctured the canopy. 

We’d been warned that Zimbabwe’s elephants are much less friendly to people, being more persecuted by poachers than in neighboring Botswana. This warning was driven home when we were shown photos of a Toyota pickup destroyed by an angry elephant. Its occupants had retreated to another car behind them, abandoning their vehicle and looking on as the elephant took out his aggression on the empty Hilux. 

No elephants charged us, and we rolled into Kaswiswi No. 1 in total darkness. The campsite looked to have been recently cleared of high grass, with scorch marks from brush fires in camp. Given the late hour, we dined on a simple dinner of quesadillas (comprising the two most important food groups, gluten and cheese) and raw veggies while we sat by the fire. It would be interesting to see what this park looks like in the morning. As we sat around the fire, we could hear the melodious call of the fiery necked nightjar from the darkness.

The Nitty Gritty

Immigration – Note that most foreigners are eligible for a visa on arrival in Zimbabwe, which is $30 USD. You can ask for a KAZA visa, which is $50 dollars and allows for entry to Zimbabwe and Zambia in one visa. This is so people can visit both sides of Victoria Falls. Zambia recently dropped the requirement for US Citizens to have a visa at all, so in the future, the KAZA may not be relevant depending on which country you’re from. 

Customs – We already had COMESA, which simplified the process; we didn’t have to buy any insurance. They did ask, and if we hadn’t had COMESA, they would have required we purchase insurance at the border. Road tax and carbon tax were combined, $20 USD. I had completed an online TIP application before arriving at the border, but the customs officer informed me that an eTIP is not accepted at this border, and that they’re only used at the Beitbridge border. 

The customs agent was super friendly and filled out all our paperwork for us. He found that our TIP had yet to be closed out in their computer system on our last visit to Zimbabwe in 2019. Technically this is supposed to result in a modest fine ($20-50 USD, I can’t remember the exact number), but he judged it to be an error on their part, not ours, and without asking us waived the fee. 

We did not declare anything and brought in 4 jerry cans of fuel without issue. I have read a few reports of people being unable to bring jerry cans of fuel in, or being restricted to only two jerry cans, but nobody seemed to care in this case.

The final step is to ask the customs agent for a gate pass. They will give you a slip of paper with a stamp on it. When you show this to the guard at the boom, they know that you have completed all the required formalities, and they’ll let you out.

Vic Falls Town

We stayed at the N1 Hotel, pleasant ad-hoc camping on the lawn next to the swimming pool. There is not very good wifi here. 

We ate at a trendy bistro near the N1, the Three Monkeys. It was pretty good for what it is, but damn expensive! Across the street from the N1 is the River Brewing Company, a hip-looking microbrewery. We didn’t think the beer here was that great, but it has a lot of potential.

Helicopter Flight – Helicopter flights are darn expensive. You can do the short over the falls only flight, a slightly longer flight or the full gorge tour. They are something like 15, 18 and 22 minutes long. The longest flight gets you a tour over the gorge downriver from the falls. Our friends Pete and Melissa did this in November and had a fantastic time; the pilot flew the helo in the gorge. This convinced us to hope for the same, but instead, we stayed high above. It was cool, but I wished we’d had the more daring pilot. They flew with the senior pilot on the Zambian side, so if you want to try for that experience, I suggest you try from the Zambian side. 

The helicopter company, The Zambezi Helicopter Company, guarantees window seats for all passengers. Upon boarding the helo, we found this not the case; Ronda sat in the middle seat. We didn’t have time to argue and still had a great flight. We stopped by the ticketing agent and complained politely that we were not given the guaranteed window seat. They took this seriously, and after a phone call to the helicopter team, they admitted that they were wrong; we should have gone up in two helicopters. They practically insisted on flying us again the following day, but Gerry and Ronda had already taken their shuttle back to Kasane, and we would be hitting the road. Nonetheless, they were very professional about the whole thing, and we appreciated their effort.

Sim cards – you can check this excellent website to get data rates for Zimbabwe and almost everywhere else, so you know what data should cost. I’ve found this to be accurate, or nearly so: https://prepaid-data-sim-card.fandom.com/wiki/Zimbabwe.

This website has an excellent write-up on the Zimbabwean currency situation: https://www.victoriafalls-guide.net/zimbabwe-currency.html.

Latest exchange rates are here: https://www.zimrates.com: 

If you’d like to learn more about Zimbabwe I recommend these books:

Alexandra Fuller’s autobiographical account of growing up in Zimbabwe in Don’t Lets Go To The Dogs Tonight isn’t as light hearted as Rogers, but is every bit as good.