Across the border

I flew from Francistown, having been transported to the airport by yet another kind member of the Book Club, this time a most charming Finnish lady, who first of all took me for a coffee in a delightful corner of Francistown, where we sat outside on a deck, watching the world pass by. Everyone seemed to pass by, and most of them knew her and stopped for a chat. Lovely, warm friendships that cannot be faked at all. The airport is a long low building, with the tiniest check in desk, but most people seem to stand just outside the building (airside!) to keep cool. I was seated next to a banker who visits all his companies overseas banks, and we chatted none stop for the hour it took to fly down to Gaborone. He was on his way home to Chenai, India, via Dubai. I asked him how the recovery was going after the Tsunami, and he was very enlightening. All the money that had been promised in the immediate aftermath of the Tsunami just had not been distributed to the people who needed it most - 'diverted to where it should never go' was his assessment. He had a lot to say about the misappropriation of funds, and the fact that in the 18 months since the disaster, very little had been done to alleviate the suffering of those most affected. It made for a very interesting flight.

Vic was waiting for me at the airport, and took me back to his house. As he was leaving to return to his office, (and all this about 10.30am) he said that Terry would be ringing me about 11am. I had a wonderful half hour in the jacuzzi, but 11am came and went and no phone call. just moments before midday, Terry rang. 'Well, are you ready?' he asked. 'For what?' I asked. He then told me that he would be picking me up in 10 minutes to take me down to Johannesburg for the night so that I could have a chance to see some of the big shopping malls there. Ten minutes??? My hair was still wet from the jacuzzi, and nothing was packed. I just tipped out my overnight bag that I had brought back from Francistown, chucked in overnight clothes and a change of outfit, grabbed by camera and handbag, and was ready as he arrived at the gate.

We had a superb drive down to Jo'burg (no one, but no one calls it Johannesburg down there!) and he purposely took me passed the shanty towns so that I could see the conditions that some of the people still exist in. There are some new houses built since the end of apartheid, but nothing like sufficient for the real needs of the population.

We were booked into yet another of Vic's friends hotels. Gordon, who owns the Ferndale Lodge http://www.ferndalelodge.co.za/map.htm met us, and was the epitome of charm. He is a collector of Jaguar Cars, and as a one-time Jaguar owner, I was fascinated to see so many beautiful examples of my favourite car in his garages.

My room was near the swimming pool, and the whole garden setting was a sheer and utter delight. Terry's room was further up the garden, and I felt that they had purposely given me the most beautiful room in the place. There were two beds, and a lovely luxurious bathroom, plus TV and everything else one usually finds in luxury hotels these days. The Jacaranda trees were in bloom, and the avenue where the Ferndale is situated was lined with these spectacularly beautiful trees.

Once we had changed, Terry took me off to the Waterside Mall, to have dinner at yet another Irish Pub. The whole Mall is very clean and really immaculately maintained. We wandered along window shopping, then I saw a super shop selling some of the best designed cutlery I have seen in many a long year. We went inside and there was a large display of Border Fine Arts figurines (http://www.borderfinearts.com/). There was a large display card with them, bearing the legend 'Made in England'. I asked the gentleman in the shop if he was the proprietor. 'Yes' he informed me proudly. 'Then may I tell you that the ticket on the Border Fine Arts display is incorrect?' 'Oh, is it? ' He seemed a little surprised. 'Yes,' I said, 'it is actually Made in Scotland and what is more, you may find people would be even more keen to buy it if you made that known.' We both laughed, and within minutes he was busy behind his counter, writing out another 'Made in Scotland' card to put in place. Terry could not wait to tell Vic about this when we got back. Well, I do believe in truth in advertising, and giving credit where it is due!

We bought lots of souvenirs, not least of which was a new digital video camera, and a new stills camera. We also got a great bag of liquorice for the Boys - something they always buy whenever they are in Jo'burg.

After a good nights sleep, and an even better breakfast we left the Ferndale Lodge, and set off for a Mall and Hotel called Monte Casino. As its name implies, it is built as a replica of Monte Casino in Italy, and looks quite incongruous on its hill. Inside it is a breathtaking Mall. Everything is under cover, of course, but the difference is that when you go in the lighting, and the roof, makes you think it is night time. The sky is dark blue with stars, and the buildings are lit as though it is night time. As you walk through the Mall, so it becomes progressively lighter until by the time you get to the far end, it is full midday sun (but without the searing African heat!) The shops and numerous restaurants are fascinating. We ate a splendid lunch outside one of the Italian restaurants, then it was time to get back to the car and start out drive back to Gaborone. First of all, though, Terry wanted to call for some cheese at a favourite shop, and this meant a fair drive to get to it.

Eventually we saw in the distance a huge dutch type windmill, and he said that it was the shop where he would be buying the cheese. Again, the mass of different aromas that assailed you as you walked in were very heady. Cheeses, meats, fruits vegs - it was one huge delicatessen, and what a fabulous one it was. We wandered around for ages before deciding that we had better get on our way so that I would be able to see Hartbeespoort Dam and still get back to Gaborone before it went dark. We don't realise just how lucky we are to have long evenings in our summer, because there it is dark by 6pm, so it does make for short days to drive long distances.

We were happily driving along, and Terry said that he hoped the baboons would be at a certain spot where they always played so that I could see them, but when we got there, there were no baboons to be seen. However, minutes later, we were thrilled to see a couple of Kudu beside the road and we stopped for quite a good while just watching them. The horns on a Kudu must be all of about 4ft long and twist in a corkscrew fashion and are magnificent. It was the perfect end to a wonderful interlude. We passed the border without having to join the long queue that forms at all the border posts (although these are nowhere near as long as the ones are for Zimbabwe - and neither do they charge anything for the visas to enter, unlike Zimbabwe).

My last weekend was now well under way, as I was due to catch my flight home on the Tuesday following. The Sunday dawned hot and sunny, as had every other day of my stay, and the boys had yet another treat in store for me. This time, it was to take me to Mokolodi Game Reserve to have lunch.

The extraordinary Clifton School

Leaving the luxury of Nata Lodge, we started our journey south to Francistown, and of course, there were other things to be negotiated. Botswana is trying very hard to establish itself as a major Beef producing country, and it is extremely diligent in its fight against Foot and Mouth disease. It has erected veterinary fences every 100 Kms or so, and at this one it is necessary to drive your vehicle through a deep disinfectant trough, then go and stand in a tray of the stuff, and, more than that, take out every pair of shoes and sandals in your car and put them through the disinfectant as well. Needless to say, it is always a chance for Terry and Vic to do their tap dancing routine - or what passes as one anyway.

We arrived back in Francistown, and Vic and Terry had both lived there at different times, so both knew the town very well. Vic knew where the school was located, and we were soon driving through the security gates and entering a different world.

I entered the school full of trepidation, Vic and Terry teasing me all the time about where I might end up, and what a long walk it was going to be to get back to Gaborone if it all went wrong. Within seconds a lovely, tall slender blonde lady appeared and introduced herself as Larry. Lorraine really, but Larry to all and sundry. The Boys left, and I was taken down to Larry and her husband Ian's lovely house in the grounds. Freshened up, Larry took me back, passing the tennis courts, the cricket field and the swimming pool and into the staff room to meet other teachers, including Nerine, the teacher who looks after the Library, the Computer suite and lots of other things as well, and is also responsible for organising the International Book Week events for Clifton School. I was totally unprepared for this amazing school. Where in the UK would you find schools with ponds and pools unguarded yet planted with wonderful trees and shrubs, and the children do not throw litter, or more to the point, each other, into them?
The Strelizia was growing in Larry and Ian's garden, and I was really surprised to see it in full bloom - I never thought I would see one as a garden flower.

The small pool in a space just outside the office block and staff room, has palm trees planted in it, and the masked weaver birds were building their nests in it with great diligence. Those nests are a work of art. They build two or more nests, and then the female comes along and inspects them and chooses which one she will accept. If none is acceptable, she will destroy them, and the poor male has to start all over again! I stood for ages watching them, and wishing like crazy that my video camera had not broken down at Victoria Falls. (It had obviously got some mist into it, and that was the end of that!) The birds first nip the end of a palm frond, then pull a long ribbon off it and proceed to weave that ribbon into a perfect sphere with a little opening and such is the perfection, you would be forgiven for thinking that they had a tennis ball inside them to work around.


The school has wonderful facilities, including swimming pool and tennis courts, and is set in the most beautiful grounds. The staff, generally, live on campus in lovely detached houses but it is not a residential school. The school is fee paying but is mixed race and there appears to be absolutely no problems of discrimination in any way whatsoever. It is Christian based, and the staff have a very caring attitude to their work. The Head teacher, Polly, is truly inspirational and time and again I wished that I had had such a caring teaching staff for my children, or indeed, for me.
Most of the staff are refugees from Zimbabwe, and what a tremendous benefit Botswana is reaping from their decision to come to Francistown, the nearest large town to the border with Zimbabwe.

School starts at 7.30am and formal lessons end about 12.30pm by which time it is almost too hot to think, let alone work. However, after a half hour break, the extra-curricular activities start, and the staff again run these. There are all manner of sports clubs, computer clubs, arts and crafts clubs, Music and drama, indeed, you name it, there seems to be something on offer to cover it. This of course also means that the staff have one of the longest working days anywhere. Many days they do not finish work until well after 5.30pm and then, and only then, have to settle down to marking books and preparing lessons for the next day or week. They have a long holiday which is in their midsummer, and coincides with our winter and Christmas, but again, it is rarely longer than the 6 weeks that our own children get.

The International Book Week was fascinating and culminated in a full day of celebration of literature. Each child was told to come to school dressed as their favourite character from a book. Needless to say, there were many Harry Potters and other characters from those books. However, the range of books covered a very wide taste. There was no escape for the staff, either, and they were also expected to dress up as well. Nerine cycled up to the school on her Bike dressed as Mrs Armitage from Mrs Armitage on Wheels, and Larry was Nancy from Oliver Twist. (Here she is on the left of the picture).

I spoke to every class, and at each one I had decided that since I had been thrown into the deep end, I would just get the children to ask questions - considering that being better than me telling them lots of boring things they would not necessarily want to know. We had lots of laughs, and the children were such a refreshing change from those I encounter here. Polite but relaxed, I was asked many varied questions, and at one point a little boy put his hand up and said in a very shy voice 'How old are you?'. His teacher spluttered that you should not ask questions like that. I laughed and asked why not? We are constantly asking children how old they are, so why is it wrong for them to ask us. 'I'm 63' I answered, laughing. 'WOW' came a loud chorus of replies. This was not meant as an exclamation that I look younger than I am, I am sure. It was simply that they just don't see many old people in Botswana. The mortality rate is 42 for women, and 37 for men, and most people leave the country when they reach the time to retire and go to more temperate climates, so I was suddenly something of a curiosity! I must say, I felt like Methuselah for a few minutes, but soon we were all falling about laughing and joking, and I know the children were delighted to have found out that you can still laugh when you get old. Of course many wanted to know how much money you make from writing, but the thing I wanted to get across to them most was that living a good happy life was, and always will be, more important than any amount of money. I told them that my philosophy is that I can only sleep in one bed at a time and I can only eat one meal at a time, and anything other than that is not important.
The procession they held in their literary costumes was very enjoyable - and the teenies from the neighbouring nursery school were brought round to watch. I could not resist taking this photo of them going back to their school afterwards, as they each walked with their hands on the shoulders of the child in front of them.

I was so fortunate during my stay, because another of the ladies of the Book Club, and this was one I had had a long chat with whilst at Garden Lodge, had arranged to pick me up and show me around the town whilst Larry was still working in the afternoons. Martie is a geologist, and also knows the area very thoroughly. She took me to visit the local women's co-operative, where they print cotton fabric with wonderful ethnic designs. I came away with a lovely table cloth that will actually fit my table when it is fully extended to its 10ft length. I was then shown this large flat boulder with three deep indentations. Martie explained to me that it is where the very first people to refine gold had worked and the only one she had come across that was not enclosed inside private land. She is actively campaigning for there to be some sort of sign erected to tell people about it, as it is a very important site in terms of the history of Botswana. So far she has had no luck.

During the drive around town, I did a double take when I caught sight of this which turned out to be just a sign for a local night club and made out of fibre glass!

I was also taken to a fantastic health spa, and treated to a wonderful massage and pampering session. What a fabulous way to be treated by a group of complete strangers who have now become amongst my best friends. Before leaving, I was asked if I could get hold of some stage makeup, indeed any makeup, so that they could put on their school plays not only with the right costumes, but with the right makeup. They also had problems getting hold of craft materials - it matters not what money you have, if the goods are not there to be bought, you can not buy them. I promised I would do all I could to help. They also, through Nerine, have a very active outreach programme, helping children a lot less fortunate than themselves, and through that programme I felt I would also be able to channel any help that I could give.

I had had a text message from Vic, telling me that I must get back to Gaborone on the Friday morning at the latest, as other plans were afoot. I didn't know what the plans were, but told Larry, and it was arranged that they would fly me back on the early flight with Air Botswana, and Vic would be at the airport in Gaborone to pick me up. I would arrive back at 10.30am. On such clear morning, it was wonderful to see the country from the air, and managed to get a shot of a gold mine. (My camera was not accurate on the date!)

So, it was back to yet another wonderful surprise, and one I was totally delighted about.

Hippos and Happy times

Waking up under the Mozzy net, and disentangling myself from it, I was hot but after a lovely cooling shower, I looked out of my riverside Rondavel, and the sight that greeted me was magical. There, on the carefully manicured grass (kept watered so it was actually green) was a playful family of mongoose, all chattering away and jumping on each other and generally having a lovely time. There were a few warthogs chomping and with faces that only a mother could love, it was highly amusing to see them run - up go their tails, like little aerials, and the take off at great speed. They eat with their front legs folded under them, to give the effect of kneeling down. A monitor lizard slithered down the little gully into the river beside my Rondavel, then I looked across the lawn, and there were Vic and Terry having a laugh and a coffee, waiting for me to join them to go for breakfast. Those two are up at 5 each morning, and it was now 8am, so I got accused of being an idle loafer for not emerging until so late. I learned very quickly during my stay why they get up so early. The heat. By 9am it was already a stifling 35 degrees C, and we were right beside the river, to the humidity was also much higher than it had been back 1000 Kms south in Gaborone. It was going to take a while to adjust, but I would just have to persevere with it. After a wonderful breakfast, it was time to go and have a look at Kasane, and the Chobe Forest. This is not part of the National game Reserve, and very few people actually go into it, as the vast majority of people are only up at Kasane for 2 nights as part of a more extensive safari holiday, and their time is taken up with a game drive into the Game Reserve, and an evening cruise on the Chobe River. No time left over for anything else if they are only staying for such a short time. I was lucky enough to be staying 4 nights, and with friends who happen to own a hotel, so I got taken to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe as well as cruises every evening, and drives into both the Reserve and the forest.

Victoria Falls was everything I hoped it would be. Vic had told me that I must make sure that I have a meal in the Victoria Falls Hotel, one of the most famous hotels in the whole of Africa, and actually the equivalent of Raffles in Singapore, or any other legendary hotel you care to mention.

The sight of Livingstone's statue at Victoria Falls, with the roar of the Falls in the background, then the breathtaking first view of them really made me a little sad that I was viewing it alone, as everyone else seemed to be in parties or couples. Still only just over a year since I was widowed, it was indeed rather a poignant moment, and the spray falling on my face from the falls masked the tears that also were wetting my face.

From the Falls we went to see the Famous Boabab tree which is immense. The Boabab's are one of the most important trees in Africa, and are known as the Supermarket of the Bush. This is because man can hide in them, there will be water somewhere nearby (even if it is necessary to dig to find it), its branches will shade the hottest traveller, and it is also the source of Cream of Tartar. It looks as though it is growing upside down, so is very distinctive.

I asked to be taken to the Victoria Falls Hotel, and what a great piece of advice it had been to go there for a meal. I had a memorable meal, sitting on the terrace overlooking the Bridge over the Zambezi that links Zambia and Zimbabwe, with a milestone at the base of the flagstaff that reads Capetown 1,647 Miles, Cairo 5,165 Miles. It put into context just how far I was away from home. Throughout my meal, I kept wondering how much it was going to cost me, then immediately would replace that thought with another of not caring how much, as this was an experience I may never have again. Imagine my surprise when I got the bill. I had been told that I could pay for anything in Zimbabwe in Sterling or Botswana Pula. I offered to pay in £s. The head waiter leaned very close to me and said that whilst of course I could, I would received my change in Zim Dollars (wink wink). The amount on the bill was 3,450,000 Zim $ and I really had no idea what the exchange rate was. I had asked many times, and always received very vague replies. I then asked if I could pay in Pula, and this was accepted happily. I had lots of different denomination Pula notes, so was able to pay the exact amount. Image if you can, my utter astonishment when that 3.45 Million Z$ turned out to be the princely sum of £9 - for a two course meal and a drink! At a future visit to Zimbabwe I was to learn a lot more about the devastating effects of inflation on that country. I will save it for a future chapter, but I feel sure the world should really know what is happening there.

Returning to Kasane, I had made friends with a German couple who were also staying at The Garden Lodge. Contrary to popular opinion, this pair had the most wonderful sense of humour, and we had been swapping jokes and stories on the 80 Km drive back from the Falls. By the time we arrived back, in time for dinner, and the Boys had joined us, we began a great party.

A group of ladies came back from eating somewhere else in the village, and we invited them to join us for drinks. The group came from Francistown, and sure enough, Vic knew at least one of the ladies husband. In fact, he had been with him on his first day in Botswana. During the course of the party, and finding out that these ladies all belonged to a Book Club, he opened his big mouth, and told them that I am a writer. I quickly changed the subject, asking about Book Clubs. It turned out that since books are very expensive in Botswana, groups of a dozen ladies get together and form a club. Each member buys 12 books in one month of the year, and then the others all read those books in turn. At the end of the year it means that they have been able to read 144 books for the cost of 12, and they can discuss what they liked or didn't enjoy - and have food and wine on those book club evenings as well. Sounded like a great idea to me, and they were great fun too.

Phil had come over and whispered in my ear 'Would you like to come and see the hippo in the garden?' I laughed, saying that that was a very different chat up line to any other I had ever heard. He chuckled, then said, 'No, seriously, we have called her Margaret, and she comes up from the river from time to time and she is on the lawn right now' . What a fabulous opportunity it was to see such a huge animal on land. One of the dubious advantages of having a river side property, as they can been very fierce animals - killing more people in Africa than any other animal. I have had to lighten the picture, as it was taken in total darkness.

The ladies were all leaving for home the following day, and the boys and myself were heading back south to Nata Lodge on our way south. It turned out that our new German friends were also heading to Nata, so we were able to continue our fun when we arrived there.

Before leaving, Gabi made me promise to go back up to Kasane as soon as I could. I received the best compliment I have ever had from her, and that is that she felt I was the sister she had always wanted to have - even though I am old enough to be her mum. Before we left, I got a phone call from one of the ladies from the Book Club. Since I would be going passed Francistown on my way south, would I consider stopping off (or being dropped off to be precise!) to spend a few days talking to the school where she taught, as it was International Book Week and to meet a real life author would be wonderful for the children. Receiving reassurance that they would make sure I got back to Gaborone afterwards, I agreed to do it. I did keep wondering what I was doing, but in the end I was sure I could hear a little door creaking open in the back of my mind.

Nata Lodge, and another wonderful luxury bungalow all to myself! Here the room had a raised balcony, that looks out onto the bush so there is the chance of seeing all the birds and animals that happen to wander by.

We were booked onto a drive to the Mkadgikadgi Pans to see the sun set. This is an enormous area of salt pans, which, in the rainy season (if there is any rain!) is home to millions of flamingos. Of course, this was not the rainy season, so we didn't see the flamingos, but the sheer scale of the pans was mind blowing. As far as the eye could see it was flat, cracked, grey earth. The impression it left of just how insignificant we, and our problems, are really does hammer home on such a vast landscape.

We all 5 (us and the Germans) ate together, then moved into the bar, Gernot and Terry got Terry's laptop set up, and we spent a most hilarious evening watching funny video's on it. The staff were laughing at us and were overjoyed when we told them to come and watch with us. No language barriers in the way, just lots of hilarity. The impression the staff had of us was long lasting, as I was to discover some months later.

There appeared to be a bird table right beside where we were seated. Soon, amid much excitement, we realised that this was no ordinary bird table. The Bush babies arrived to eat the chopped up mangoes that were on it. Exquisite little creatures they are, and to see them no more than 6ft away from you is indescribable. I took lots of photos, but in the pitch dark, it was not very successful, so the one I have here has been lightened on the computer just to try to give some idea of how close they were.

The following morning we said goodbye to our new found friends, and set off for Francistown, where I was going to be dumped by the Boys! Where this was going to lead, I was not at all sure. I had not met the couple I would be staying with, or indeed know where I was staying. All I knew was that I was to be dropped off at The Clifton School, and to ask for Larry.

Finding your way around without a map!

I had sucessfully managed to get into the City and back again - but it had been via a lot of roads that I am sure the average tourist would never see. What an interesting bit of exploring it was though. Just driving around a city, and not knowing exactly where I was staying in relation to that city was a challenge. I had not seen a map - indeed at that stage, I could not even buy a map that had a street map of the suburbs on. Sure I had a map of the centre of the city, but that is like trying to find you way around say Enfield, when the only map you have is of the City of London! I was also having a very fundamental problem of direction. Never, ever, have I heard anyone talk about the movement of the sun in the Southern Hemisphere. Sure, I have heard about the Corriolus Effect (which way down the plug the water drains), but I have grown up where the track of the sun is Rises in the East, goes to the South at mid-day and sets in the West. I had never given it a thought that I would find myself somewhere that the Sun is in the North at midday! I happily drive anywhere in Europe, and have done, and not need a map (geography was and is my favourite subject!), so with my orientation completely out of kilter, I found life driving around difficult. Add to that the lack of landmarks, and sign posts only to places 50Kms away, I did far more exploring than I expected to do. Each time I arrived where I had hoped to get, I was delighted and surprised. I would try to mentally note how many left and right turns I had taken, but until I had negotiated all those and avoided the craziest drivers in the world, it was something of a trial. The driving standards are abyssmal to say the least. If you see a vehicle (and they are almost all 4 x 4 pick ups, called bakkies) pull over to the righthand side of the road, don't go assuming it is so the driver is going to turn right, because they are not! They are going to turn across you to the left. They do drive on the left, the same as in the UK, which is a slight help, but roundabouts are just a survival of the fittest or fastest test. It seems common practice to have your eyes closed at road junctions so as to avoid eye contact with other drivers. Add to this mix people with huge loads balanced on their heads, babies strapped to their backs, and chatting on their mobiles oblivious to the world around them, then, just for good measure, marauding gangs of goats and dozens of donkeys wondering amongst the whole lot, and you start to get the idea. Vehicle maintenance is a luxury not many indulge in, so you will often see people just drive off the road in a cloud of dust, to get their car or bakkie fixed by some 'mechanic' who has a pair of axle stands and the odd ramp at the side of the road.

This photo of a bakkie I took on a trip down to Johannesburg, but it illustrates the number of bodies that will happily cram into one at any given time!

It was not until my friends were ready to leave, with me, for the long drive north that I got to see a lot of the wonderful things the country has to offer. We left at 5.30am, just as it was getting daylight. In a very short time we were out of town, and watching the barren landscape unfolding. Botswana is very flat, with just the few rocky outcrops to relieve the boredom. I realised immediately why it is referred to as The Bush. That is exactly what the country is covered in. Bushes. Miles upon endless miles of bushes. Few large trees, no fields as we know them within 300 miles, not a lot of anything much, but then a brightly coloured bird will fly across the sky, and all you can do is marvel at the colours and the beauty of them. We started to see the odd warthog beside the road, and the time was passed by Vic and Terry and their one liners. We had a short break for breakfast at Mahalpye, some 200 miles into the journey, then it was on to Francistown, the 2nd City of Botswana. Again, a short stop whilst Vic delivered some equipment to a new building he was supplying electronics to, then it was back to the road again. North out of Francistown, we started to see more wildlife. My first sight of an elephant was wonderful and of course, they stopped the car for me to take a photo. I was told, though, that if we stopped at every elephant we would take a week to do the journey, so I had to restrain myself.

We turned off the tarred road in the middle of nowhere. It turned out to be the drive to Nata Lodge and I was totally unprepared for what greeted me. Vic seemed to be known to everyone, wherever we went, and Nata Lodge was no exception. He was chatting away to the staff, and Terry and I went to the bar and ordered a meal and a nice cold drink. I was fascinated by the birds here, Masked weaver birds everywhere, their bright yellow feathers like bits of sun flying around. Vic joined us to say that he had booked us in for the last night of our holiday, so, meal eaten we were soon on our way again.

Just before 4pm we arrived at Chobe Safari Lodge, and I was shown to my own Rondavel. This is a round, very luxurious version of a thatched hut. Inside it was simply lovely. There were two beds, and a little lounge area, a beautiful bathroom, and outside a little terrace. My Rondavel was slap bank on the bank of the Chobe River, which is a loop off the Zambezi. The grounds had all manner of animals and birds running around and they were free to come and go as they pleased. Families of Mongoose (the Meerkat family), baboons, vervet monkeys, warthogs, monitor lizards, and of course, multi-coloured birds. Paradise.

Off to the bar, after the necessary shower to freshen up, and Vic made a quick phone call. Ten minutes later a launch arrived at the landing stage, and Phil, their friend, had come to pick us up to take us for a wonderful evening cruise on the River. Then it was off to Garden Lodge to catch up with Gabi, Phil's lovely wife, and we all sat down to a very convivial dinner. I made firm friends with Gabi very quickly, as we are to this day. I shall tell you more about Garden Lodge in later chapters, but for now I was to spend my first night ever under a Mosquito net.

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.

Life can begin with widowhood, it need not be the end

Life is strange. I know the old adage that gets spouted when a life changing event happens. As one door closes...etc. Usually this has resulted in badly trapped fingers for me, but the sudden death of my husband of almost 40 years made me determined to make sure that it didn't sever my digits, but set me off on an totally unknown journey to I knew not where. All I knew was that I had a fearless nature, a love of people, and almost no ties. Yes, I have a daughter, but she was more devoted to her father than to me, and I always felt that I was just not seen in the same conventional way that most of my friends children saw their mothers.

My life had changed directions many times over my tenure on this planet, not always for the best, but I had tried to learn from wherever it had taken me. I had been brought up to attend church and had a faith, but this had been shaken, tested, broken and repaired many times. I had and have always maintained that I have some sort of faith, but not necessarily a deeply religious one. I see religion as man-made, with all its anomalies and faults, and cannot find it in myself to follow unquestioning anything that seems to demand that I do not question the fundamental tennets that it stands on.

I had belonged for a long time, in cyber terms anyway, to a group of Expats from my home area, on the internet, and they, more than my real family, were a great comfort and strength to me when I faced the world alone for the first time. That group of truly good people, scattered all over the world, encouraged me, cajoled me, teased me, pulled my leg and generally were my real source of strength. I shall always be so thankful for the support they gave to me. One of them even emailed me to say that if I felt I needed a holiday once all the dust had settled, I was to jump on a plane and go and stay with him. We had never met, but I also just had a good, safe feeling that he was an inherrently good person who meant me no ill. After a year, I decided to take up his invitation. He lived in Botswana. So this part of my journey started.