First sights of Africa

I decided to take the plunge and booked that first flight on the Internet as soon as my decision was made, and my friend confirmed that he was available to put me up (and put up with me!) from the end of September 2005. I had all the necessary jabs, and he had also hinted that he wanted to take me to visit some friends of his on the northern border, taking me well into the Malaria Zone. I asked my doctor for the necessary medication, then took myself off to collect it from the chemist. It cost me £17 for the course of anti-malarial drugs. I then had to go back to the Dr a week later for the next part of my injections. Having a word with the Practice Nurse, she informed me that I had been told the wrong drugs by the Dr, and would now have to go and get a different one suitable for sub-Saharan Africa. Another £25 paid out, but at least I felt happier that I had the right one. Malaria was one souvenir I did not wish to bring back with me. I had to start taking them a week before I was due to go into that Zone (the south of Botswana is not in the Zone so my friend's house is no problem). Since he had not told me when he planned to take me up north, I started the tablets 3 days before leaving home. How lucky I started them then. I was violently ill, and by the time I was due to leave home to drive to yet another friends house where I was leaving my car during my absence, I was in desperate need of advice from the practice nurse again. I was told yet again to change the medication. A friend went to the Chemist for me, and I gave her £45 as I had been told the tablets would be expensive. She returned, package in hand, telling me to sit down. They had cost £76! Oh well, it is only money, isn't it? I could not have travelled the way I was, and the change to the new medication showed an almost miraculous improvement. So, I was now ready to go off and away.

I flew via Paris with Air France - a deliberate choice as speak French, and love the chance to get a little practice in. From Paris it was an overnight flight down to Johannesburg. The food was dreadful on the flight, but the cabin staff were friendly. I cannot sleep on any journey, be it by car, train or airplane, so by the time the sun rose over the equator, I was busy clicking away with my camera.

It was wonderful to see it from 40,000ft, but we were running into the equatorial storms area, and getting a bit of a buffeting. The huge thunder heads rose much higher than the plane, and the lightening was flashing in the clouds below us. Made for a very 'interesting' hour during that flight.

Arriving in Johannesburg, I had a lovely couple of hours stop over, wandering round the diamond shops, and having a meal watching the Air South Africa fleet come and go. They have that rainbow flag tail and I finally believed that I was in Africa! I had never had any sort of interest in visiting that continent, but that changed almost in an instant. Those big beaming smiles, the friendly manner of everyone I met, just the general ambiance of the airport was very welcoming.

I had a very good feeling as I boarded the next, relatively tiny turbo prop, plane that was to flip me over to Gaborone, and Vic. He had promised to meet me, and another of his friends came with him to meet me. Terry hails from Birmingham, and he is ex-Royal Navy, and between the two of them, life took on a surreal, Goonesque dimension. They have the fastest wit, and their one-liners had me in stitches constantly. Both are divorced, and live about 400 yards apart. Vic has a very successful business and is a workaholic, whereas Terry is a supervisor in the Construction industry, and had more time to take me around and show me the area. We all hit it off immediately we met (I had been shaking in my shoes as I walked from the aircraft to the arrivals lounge, I can tell you, wondering what on earth I was doing there). I had, though, taken enough money with me that if it did go wrong, I had the wherewithal to move into the best hotel in town for the 3.5 weeks I would be there. This was a precaution I would recommend everyone to take as it does give a level of security that nothing else can.

My plane had been delayed by 2 hours, so the Boys (as I shall refer to them!) told me they had been losing precious drinking time. They took me to Vic's home to drop off my suitcase - and this is where some of the shocks started to come. As we drove the 5 miles, I just got more and more horrified about the shacks and litter everywhere.

There seemed no order to the higgeldy piggeldy way the dwellings were arranged. There was lots of space between them, but they were not as bad as the TV images of the shanty towns so familiar in South Africa. However, there were hundreds of concrete block places, no bigger than a double garage, with a tin roof, with a fence around. The high walls round some properties were topped with electric fences and you could only see tiled roofs. The land was totally barren of grass, and the small trees seemed festooned with plastic bags, blown there on the wind. I was getting very concerned as to exactly what I was going to, but eventually Vic pushed a little remote control, just like the one I have for my garage doors, and a gate opened.

Into a beautiful block paved area he drove the car, and parked it under a huge thatched roofed car port! The house had burglar bars at every window, and I was also told that one thing you do not do is go out for a walk.

What a lovely house he has. Neat as a new pin, with 4 huge bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and everything you could possibly want. In that heat, and it was about 35 degrees C when I arrived, all I wanted to do was get into a cold shower. No chance. It was a case of dump the suitcase, and back into the car. We were off to O'Hagans bar in town, where a whole lot of people were waiting to greet me!

We had a great few hours, and any tiredness seemed to dissipate amongst so many friendly faces. I had forgotten how it is for Expats when a fresh face arrives in town. Everyone wants to ask questions of how and what is happening back home. The Boys told me that they had arranged to take me to Kasane the following Thursday and we would stay two nights at Chobe Safari Lodge, (http://www.chobesafarilodge.com/) as their friends had a full house those two nights, then we would move to their Lodge, The Garden Lodge on the Chobe River (http://www.thegardenlodge.com/ ) for the next two nights, and a final night at Nata Safari Lodge (http://www.natalodge.com/) to break the journey on the way back south.

In the meantime, I had to master playing Dice, staying sober under extreme provocation, and letting Nostar, the maid, look after me. The first two were easier than the last. I am not used to having anyone look after me, and she was highly amused when I made breakfast for her when it was time for her break (she arrives at 8am) and even more delighted when I kept making her cups of tea! She is a lovely girl of 27 with two children. More of all that later, and an insight into just the most moving way to help people with very little.

The following day Terry drove me into Gaborone, to show me the shopping malls - and oh boy, the prices are cheap! - and how to find my way home again. 'Just turn right at this Communication tower (a red and white mast), then continue until the road runs out of tarmac, and turn left. Vic's house is along here. Simple. Got it. Wrong! I got myself, alone, back to O'Hagans, and the shopping mall next to it. Very proud of myself, I did a little shopping. Irresistible, of course, when lovely floaty tops cost all of £5, sandals and shoes never more than £20 - in fact I never saw a pair of shoes anywhere more than £30 even in the most exclusive boutiques! - plus lots of things I had never seen before. Now it was just a case of finding my way back. I saw the mast, and turned right. There are virtually no land marks in these outer suburbs, and tempting as it is to think 'Now there is a man still sitting under that tree - and I am sure he was there when I went passed earlier' it doesn't work. I was to discover over the next half hour that there were no fewer than 5 red and white masts, each opposite a right turn. Eventually I triumphantly found the house, and it was with more than a little relief that I pressed that button and the gate slid open to admit me to that oasis of calm that is Vic's property.