A Series of (Un)fortunate Events in Southern Africa
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Overview of the self-drive expedition across Zambia, Malawi, and Zimbabwe
This year was no different. The last time Louie and Peter had been to Africa (specifically to Ngorongoro Crater in Tanzania) was the same year the first article about Louie came out. From then until 2020, their vacation time had taken them mostly to diving spots like the Galapagos Islands to mingle with sea creatures—wildlife in the water, as Louie put it. They were now due for another trip to Nelson Mandela’s continent to ogle at landbound animals and they had set their sights on one country they had already visited, Zimbabwe (which, together with Botswana, was part of their 2011 itinerary), and two they hadn’t yet seen: Malawi and Zambia. Not even the rainy season (in full swing in southern Africa by the time of their arrival) was going to dampen their plans. Or so they thought.
A post-Mugabe Zimbabwe intrigued Louie because there were bound to be major changes to the tourism infrastructure in the wake of the long-serving president’s demise. At the time of their first trip, it required more planning than usual to navigate not just its geography, but also the bureaucracy that dictated the issuance of visas, currencies for payment of goods, and so much more. Louie had high hopes that things were going to be different this time around.
On the other hand, Malawi and Zambia were never considered in previous forays into sub-Saharan Africa simply because they weren’t really known as wildlife sanctuaries, a primary draw to any location for the footloose pair. The charms of the two countries lay in their sceneries, not their fauna. They provide some of the most stunning landscapes in that part of the world and plenty of opportunities for lowland trekking. With the promise of adventure beckoning them, Louie and Peter set out from their home in Germany to Zambia sometime towards the middle of February 2020, just when the global COVID-19 pandemic was beginning to dominate the 24-hour news cycles.
Pandemic news takes over Zimbabwean daily headlines as the virus enters Africa.
Here’s something you need to understand about Louie the techie: even when he goes into the African bush well equipped as he always is with a satphone, laptop, smartphones, and other fancy gizmos, he prefers to spend most of his time “out there” offline. But of course. How else does one fully enjoy the wonders of nature, unless one detaches oneself from the encumbrances of “civilization,” right? The devices were meant to be only for emergencies and essential communication, not for Instagramming a selfie every top of the hour. So, just when the whispers of the global viral crisis started to take hold of the collective paranoia of Earthlings, Louie was getting ready to retreat into the wild and be insulated from most of the buzz emanating from and surrounding the novel coronavirus.
The pair’s arrival in Livingstone, Zambia, was uneventful because operations at the airport and everywhere else in the country were just like normal, untouched by the rising panic in other parts of the world. Nobody checked temperatures, ensured the wearing of face masks, or required self-quarantine for two weeks; so the emergency remained in the periphery of Louie’s consciousness. There was that unexpected temperature check at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, Kenya, administered by professionals in full PPE right on the airbridge as passengers deplaned, but it brought more amusement than fear to Louie and Peter. It felt more like an overkill than necessary precaution because not even the many airports they passed through in East Asia (coming from the Philippines to Germany to southern Africa), where COVID-19 cases were on a steep rise, had such elaborate gear on their health care staff.
If there was anything that gripped Louie’s attention, it was Mana Pools in Zimbabwe. It is the only wildlife reserve in the world that still allows regular visitors to walk on foot without any guides right in the middle of territories teeming with both predators and preys. He had planned a visit years ago but was misled by the information that it cost USD 250 per night to stay there. A recent review of info corrected that notion—it costs less than half of that amount—so he immediately included it in their self-drive expedition across the three countries. But first, they needed to get hold of their Land Cruiser rental coming from Botswana. Clearly, this was an outing that required above-average knowhow and skills to pull off cross-border logistics. And so, the stage was set for their series of unfortunate events.
Mana Pools bathed in dawn light
The first ill-fated incident was something expected because of the season but still discouraging. As Louie drove from Livingstone to the north and then southeast of Zambia to visit a wildlife camp near the border of Malawi, there was no blessing from the rains that came down on Africa. It washed away culverts and roads, rendering almost the whole region impassable. At many points, Louie and Peter took turns to get down from their four-by-four to hack away at the bushes and trees that blocked their way as the other fought to control the vehicle against the torrential floodwaters swirling around them. Sometimes, they even had to tether themselves with a rope to the Land Cruiser to keep from getting swept away. They kissed their plan for a stay at the wildlife camp goodbye as they lost against nature. At least, for the time being.
Things went further south (pun intended) as Louie drove through northern Mozambique on his way down to a border crossing into Zimbabwe. It was an area known to have continuing armed conflict between government forces and rebels. While the drive itself turned out to be uneventful, it was not the case once the pair reached the immigration post in Nyampanda. The rarest of rare occurrences in Louie’s decades-long country-hopping happened: he was denied entry into Zimbabwe due to some technicalities regarding his online visa application. He wasn’t being barred completely from ever entering the southern African nation; he just needed to reapply and endure the red tape one more time. And he did, which meant unplanned days to spend waiting for visa approval. (So much for the post-Mugabe scenario he envisioned.) To commiserate, Peter delayed his own entry, too, even though his German passport did allow him through without any problems. Less seasoned travelers wouldn’t have as easily rolled with the punches. Just as well that they were used to such sudden plot twists because, unknown to them, more unfortunate events loomed in the distance.
As they waited, Louie decided to double back to the wildlife camp they had originally planned to visit. In the second attempt, they succeeded in reaching South Luangwa National Park, where they spent the next 10 days. Finally, he received positive news about his Zimbabwean visa and they traversed south again to make their way to Harare. From Harare, the plan was to stay for nine days in Mana Pools. As they made the two-day drive to the reserve, more manifestations of the burgeoning pandemic were popping up along their route. Portable handwash stations. Sanitizers. Masks. Screaming newspaper headlines displayed at roadside stands.
Market scenes like this typically dot the roadside in southern Africa.
As it turned out, Mana Pools was a bust. The wildlife was a no-show for six days. Instead of the breathtaking nature drama they hoped for, a different sort of drama unfolded. One day, as they drove back to their camp from a drive around the bush to find animals, they found an ambulance and two healthcare workers waiting for them. Someone had snitched on Louie and Peter!
Backtrack to a couple of days prior, when the pair had a brief stopover at some tiny, random village between Harare and Mana Pools. Louie had woken up in the morning with a serious raspy coughing fit triggered by his allergies—a common thing for him. But apparently, something that had alarmed villagers nearby enough for one of them to call their health department and report the presence of a sick foreigner. Because travelers are required to register upon entry at parks and reserves, government personnel eventually tracked them down through their interconnected computers. Armed with thermal scanners and clipboards, the Zimbabwean health reps bombarded Louie with questions. Ultimately, he managed to convince them that he was not a COVID-19 carrier.
Zimbabwean health personnel visit Mana Pools to interview Louie about his COVID-19 status.
By then, Mana Pools had already shed much of its charm because of the absence of wildlife. After just six days of their planned nine-day stay, Louie and Peter decided to head out to Hwange National Park instead—a place they hadn’t included in their original itinerary. It was, however, in the general direction of Livingstone, Zambia, where they were scheduled to fly out from on their way back to Germany. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Except that that they suddenly got a series of emails from KLM, encouraging them to cut their holidays short because governments had started shutting down all international travel. Unaware of the gravity of the pandemic, they pressed “ignore” and carried on with their R&R.
Camping in Hangwe National Park
The big blow came, when the airline announced that their return flight from Livingstone had been cancelled. A hectic exchange followed between Louie and a dedicated KLM representative over the satellite phone, in the middle of nowhere at the national park. The pair’s biggest advantage in the scramble for flights was they were platinum-card frequent flyers. They had access to a private customer service line. They didn’t need to pay any rebooking fees whatsoever. Louie had firsthand knowledge of the internal workings of the airline industry to navigate the complex routing conundrum that then faced them. Both Louie and Peter were ready for anything.
Doing hectic follow-ups with KLM to figure out flight situation before Zimbabwe borders close down
Finally, after multiple cancellations of flight options all the way to Johannesburg, South Africa, the KLM representative, prompted by Louie’s queries, found them the last flight out—the LITERAL last flight out—of southern Africa. And it was leaving from Victoria Falls, just next-door to Hwange National Park, a place they hadn’t planned to visit.
So, on 28th March 2020, four days after their planned departure, Louie and Peter left southern Africa on Ethiopian Airlines, their berths secured by internal airline courtesies rather than its being a member (which it wasn’t) of KLM’s airline alliance. As the plane took off, Zimbabwe and all other African countries shut down their international borders. As it turned out, the series of unfortunate events were, in fact, the blessing in disguise the pair needed to escape the months-long global lockdown that still continues in some parts of the world as of this writing.
Ethiopian Airlines flight crew greet passengers with masks on.
Agatha Verdadero
Agatha Verdadero is back to her passions of writing, teaching, publishing, and the outdoors, after a long hiatus. She has returned home to Kenya with her beloved poodle mix, Sam.
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