21 December 2007: Leaving Solwezi

Last night I stayed out way too late. A volunteer that had completed his service over a year ago came back to the house and was looking to revisit the Solwezi nightlife. I was doing the dishes-and had pretty much given up on the evening- when he came in. He wanted to go to Popo’s Pool hall so that we could sit and have a few beers.
We walked up to Popo’s in the dark while I tried my best to update my old friend on the happenings of Solwezi. The best I could do was to say that Solwezi is growing- it is- but I would have liked greatly to have said something more profound.
At Popo’s, we drank large Congolese beers and discussed how both of us wanted to be writers. He had just decided to become a writer earlier in the day, but I said that I had been thinking about it for a long time. We were well matched, though, in enthusiasm. I said something about school and he said that he didn’t want to be in school anymore. I had enough beer under my belt to say that the whole reason I am talking about writing now is that I don’t really want to be involved in the education system in he U.S. anymore; or something like that. We decided finally that we would get together so that we could form community of like-minded people when we got back to the states. We would talk and write and drink like Hemingway in Paris. Then we decided we would go to a dance club.
I found a girl to dance with early in the evening and she hung on to me for most of the night. I was not allowed to buy any beer and my friend would wade through the crowd with a six pack of Castle Lager occasionally so that he could hand one to me and one to my dance partner. My old friend and I didn’t talk a whole lot after that. He spent a lot of time in what looked like an argument with another man. I tried to enter several times only to find that most of it was “all in fun.”
I came back to the house at around 3:30 in the morning. By the time I had showered and had a little something to eat, it was at least 4:30. I knew that I was supposed to get up in another hour and a half, so I decided that it would be better if I just stayed awake. I made a cup of coffee and sat down at the computer.
At around 5:30, Spencer and Thomas woke up. I heard them moving so I went into the main room to meet them. They were on their way to Zanzibar for Christmas- and our path was the same path for half the distance to Lusaka. I was going to travel with them for as far as I could. Hitch-hiking is quicker alone, but a lot more pleasant in a group, so I was thankful for the company.
At around 6:15, we walked up the hill from the house to the tarmac. We took a right- toward Lusaka- and started toward the edge of town where it would be easier because there wouldn’t be the traffic “just moving within.” I walked and talked and I felt giddy. I knew I was just tired and that I would pay for not going to bed last night, but I was on my way, and that’s a big step.
We walked for a couple of kilometers in the growing heat and finally stopped at a place that we considered to be ideal for hitching: cars had a place to pull off the road and we were sure that any cars going by that place were going out of town. We dropped our bags on the side of the road and took turns pissing in the tall grass of the ditch. While Thomas took his turn, Spencer and I talked about village life. I nodded and listened with one ear while watching the road for prospective rides. When one would come by, I would step up to the shoulder and wave my hand- palm down- as if fanning something at my side. This is the sign for hitching a ride in Zambia. Sticking out a thumb will get you no where.
After about a half an hour, a Land Rover pulled to a stop in front of us. It was a miner named Amos from South Africa working in Solwezi. He said that he could drive us all the way to Ndola- about half way. We gladly accepted. The ride was smooth and Amos was good to talk to. He talked to us about bicycling and about wildlife. He said that the mine was working to have more wildlife on their property. He talked about leopards and said that some men working on the mine property had seen one recently. We laughed and were entertained and the trip from Solwezi to Ndola passed quickly. When we got out at Shoprite to buy groceries, we made sure to exchange numbers with Amos so that we could maybe come to visit and see the animals.
We went to the bathroom and then dropped our bags at the parcel drop at Shoprite. We bought sandwiches and Doritos and Cadbury chocolate bars. After leaving the store, Spencer and Thomas hugged me and headed off for the bus station. They had decided to take a bus for the next stretch. I was going to keep on hitching so I walked up the street from Shoprite to a set of traffic lights- called “robots” in Zambia- and looked around for someone to ask about how to get to Lusaka. Spencer had said to take a left, so I started in that direction. I stopped at the first store. There was a man standing out front and I reached to shake his hand. I noticed that his right hand was shriveled and I hesitated for a moment. He didn’t hesitate at all, but reached with his left hand shook my right without it seeming awkward in the least. I asked him where the road to Lusaka was and he told me to keep walking for ten minutes or so in the direction I was already facing until I came to a T-junction. I thanked him and started again. Five minutes or so later, I asked another man at a Total station and he confirmed what the first man had said. I continued with confidence. When I reached the T, I turned left toward Lusaka.
I waved at cars all down a big hill. A man said that the cars wouldn’t be able to stop there and so I just kept walking. Another man told me I should go to the bus station. I told him that I don’t like the buses because they are dangerous. I walked down the big hill and back up again until I found a good place and I sat down. I kept waving for over a half hour, but no one stopped. Then I noticed two white people walking toward me down the same hill that I had walked down. When they got closer, I could see that it was Spencer and Thomas. We hugged again and they told me that their bus wasn’t leaving when they needed it to, so we sat down together to wave at cars.
After a short time, a bus full of young people that were obviously from the U.S. or Europe pulled over for us. They turned out to be from a Bible college working overseas for six months on their way to board the same train to Zanzibar as Spencer and Thomas. Half the people in the small van were from the U.S. and the rest were from England and Wales. Two of them were from Minnesota and despite my initial thoughts about talking to Bible scholars, we had a good conversation and the time flew by. They dropped us at the next town after Ndola- Kapiri- where they could all board the train. I hugged Spencer and Thomas again and got out of the van. I waved at the whole lot as I walked away.
The truck that stopped for me in Kapiri said that they would only charge me 20,000 kwacha to get me to Lusaka. I got in and decided that I would zone out to my headphones. This proved to be more difficult than I had anticipated.
The truck went faster and faster and the whole thing vibrated. When I leaned my head back, it rested on the back window and shook so much that I couldn’t keep my eyes closed. Then I noticed that the windshield was cracked. I looked through the spidering cracks as the driver decided to pass a tractor trailer truck on a hill. The vibration got worse and the tire nearest my left ear began to make an ominous noise. I prayed.

Oh my God I am heartily sorry for having offended you…

I tried time after time to fall asleep, but was unsuccessful. Finally I gave up on sleep and just concentrated on keeping my eyes closed during the frightening moments. I had my eyes closed a lot and that ride seemed to take eight hours all by itself.
Finally we got to Lusaka and the truck dropped me somewhere on the outskirts. I opened my passport pouch so that I could remove the money to pay the driver and noticed that my wad of cash was smaller than I remembered. I paid the driver and looked for a cab. The cab driver wanted 45,000 kwacha, but I think I talked him down to 30,000. Once on our way, I took out the passport pouch again. My heart launched into my throat as I looked in. I took out all the cash. There was 250,000 kwacha. That was somewhere around 650,000 kwacha short of what was in the pouch when I left Solwezi this morning.
My vacation is off to a hell of a start.