OK, one episode before i head to the cederberg :ricky:
Day 10
At the embassy nice and early, Claude and Koos headed in to find out the story.
I watched the bikes outside and held thumbs (I’m not a very good negotiator, and generally was the bike guard in situations like this – another example of good and easy teamwork).
The story: US$ 30, ID photo (frikkin lucky we all had), Copy of passport and bike papers, and a few hours (2 I think). We left in high hopes and went to drill holes in, and bolt on Koos’s numberplate in preparation of the roads ahead.
After that, we pulled into a lodge and got a cooldrink while we waited.
A guy came in and sat at the next table, and after awhile started up conversation with us – What are we doing , where are we going etc. Then, he rushed off to get a reporter and photographer to take down our story for the Zambian times. So, in Zambia at least, our story was told
. He was pretty surprised that we were not sponsored.
We were itching to get to the embassy, so we went ½ hour earlier that they advised. High-fives all round, the visas were ready, and we turned north with a skip in our step, and a heavy hand on the throttle (and some wheelies for good measure).
Heading back on the road we came down on, and then onwards north, eventually we reached the border.
It was a pretty chaotic border once again, and after passports etc were done, we needed to get past the cop at the boom gate. He was one of those ‘I’m very important, and I’ll make things difficult to prove it to my mates around me’. He wanted photostats of bike papers, passports, insurance….whatever he could muster up in his pea brain. Claude and Koos spent ages running back and forth, and I sat by the bikes, guarding against the hordes of people crowding around to get a look. I chatted to some friendly people to pass the time, and after what seemed like an age of standing in the sun, it was sorted out, and we were allowed through to the DRC side. This was absolute carnage. 1st, we had to go to speak to “intelligence” (ok, you are white tourists, we need to get something out of you). The hilarious thing was, the big boss was not available, so suddenly, the front desk guy became the head boss. Tonnes of questions and hints at bribes. After we were done photostatting stuff and giving all the details, the interpreter says the ‘big boss’ would like a donation for a drink. We refused (especially after the guy who did the Photostats for us didn’t give us any change for a 50 000 Zambian Kwatcha note (for 5 pages!) – when we asked for change, he just laughed – mullet)
Then, it was on to immigration, where a ‘fixer’ arranged to take in our passports. We weren’t keen, and wanted to do it ourselves (I hate other people ’helping’, only to ask for lots of money and you don’t know what is really necessary) but, the language barrier was a real problem. In the end, we had to pay (bribe??) US50 (he wanted more, but we refused) to the guy who stamped the passports. We asked why and he said it was a big problem because we were not vaccinated for cholera!! All our other vaccinations were 100%. What a joke – you think the thousands of other people were?) But, the procedure was pretty quick, it was really hot, and arguing yielded nothing, so we paid and then got the carnets done. Our Fixer actually turned out to be a good guy I think, so after he organized our 3rd party, we gave him some cash and headed out for Lombambashi. We were in the DRC baby!!!!!
check the flag :biggrin:
The road north was superb, new tar. Riding on the Rt side of the road took getting used to though. The speed limits were very frustrating, especially since we had been warned about speed traps. We saw one, and were relieved we had listened to the advice.
Just before we got into town, there was a toll. But some police stopped us 20m short:
Police man: “give me money” Claude: “what for?” PM: “for beer” C: “no” PM: slightly frustrated that we don’t understand… “YOU….give ME….MONEY… for BEER” C: looks at lady in booth of toll – She nods and points to Policeman. Claude pays him a small amount and refuses more. Policeman waves us on, and we miss the Toll – so we actually save money
. Gonna have to get used to this I think to myself.
Lombombashi is a hole. It was once a great city I think, but now it’s a mess. The road on the way in was under construction, and we were waved through onto the new bit (but I think we mis-understood) which we later realized was still wet, and plastered our bikes with tar all over
.
Sheila from Chimfunshi had advised we go to the Zoo in town, which is where J.A.C.K.S operates from (a Chimp orphanage run by French people).
We found it really easily, but the owner was not there. We phoned and got directions to his hotel and rode through to it. By now, it was getting dark, and the various intersections and circles were confusing on the wrong side of the road with traffic. When we got to the Hotel, we had to phone the owner again, and he turned out to be VERY unhelpful – not interested at all in helping in the least (see if I ever donate or help them in the future. Something about burning bridges comes to mind).
Outside the hotel
So, a guy off the street (who is a student) helped us to find a Nunnery, which in turn directed us to a Medical clinic, which allowed us to camp in the forecourt. We got some odd looks, but nothing unfriendly at all.
There was some water that they brought in drums, and a dodgy toilet, nothing else. We actually had a pretty peaceful sleep though.
map - 2nd 1/2 day 6 - day 10 (and a little of day 11...)
A taster for the next one
