When you really want to get there

by Bob HECKLER (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown USA

I was traveling in southern Africa, solo, as my 65th birthday present to myself. I chose to backpack it (not camp, just not a roller bag) because having it all on your back frees your hands up and is a lot more comfortable. I visited 14 countries in almost 21 weeks. Quite the trip! Here's a snippet. After airboating through the Okavanga Delta and going on safari in Moremi Game Reserve in Botswana I decided it was time to leave the town of Maun and head towards the capital city of neighboring Namibia, Windhoek. I asked my guesthouse host when the next bus left for Windhoek the next day. He told me “8:30am”. At 8am I took a taxi to the parking lot the buses stop in and asked for the one going to Namibia. I was informed that it was Sunday and the bus on Sunday leaves at 5:30am, not 8:30am, and there was only one bus per day. I wasn't pleased, but undeterred. I negotiated with a taxi driver (there will almost always be taxis or tuktuks or such at bus stations) a price for him to drive me to the border of Botswana and Namibia. I haggled him down from US$250 down to US170. It was a 3+ hour drive and petrol is expensive in Botswana, so I felt good about this. It would have cost me double for me to fly out of Maun's little airport, and who knows what their Sunday schedule was? Once bitten, twice shy in Maun on a Sunday. So, at about 8:45am my driver, his wife and I set off for the frontier. It was a fun time. English is widely spoken in South Africa, Zimbabwe (formerly Southern Rhodesia), Zambia (formerly Northern Rhodesia), Botswana and Namibia so having conversations with my hosts was easy. She was a housewife who took care of their two children while he tried to make do as a taxi driver. US$170 is a TON of money for them. Not life changing, but significant when you consider the average salary in Botswana is about US$4600/year, probably less in Maun. 3 1/2 hours in a car with two people and you learn a lot about their lives, their struggles, their hopes and aspirations. When we finally got to the border I paid them and went to get stamped out of Botswana and into Namibia. Smooth as silk, the border guards on both sides very friendly. I stepped through the chicken wire fence and I was in Namibia. There was a bank, a gas station with a convenience store and that was it. It's the Kalahari Desert, it was almost 1pm. I dropped my 80L backpack and my 30L pack on the side of the black top, smiled, and stuck out my thumb. Cars and trucks drove through the opening in the chicken wire, coming from Botswana to Namibia just like me. Eight cars and eight semis passed me by. The truckers, almost to a man, checked on me and my destination. Most weren't going as far as Windhoek, which was about 205 miles (310 kms) away. Then, the 9th semi stopped and picked me up. A beautiful new Scania, pulling a double trailer of soap of all things. The driver was a younger guy who promised he'd take me about 110 of those 310 kilometers and drop me off at a good place to grab another ride. We chatted some, friendly banter, and then I sank back into my seat and enjoyed the ride. He had to pull into a weigh station in the small town of Gobabis and that's where he dropped me off. This time I wasn't in the desert, I was in a town. I stuck out my thumb once again. A taxi stopped immediately and asked where I was going and I said “Windhoek”. He was a local taxi only, but the very next car, the one right behind him, heard me and pulled over. They were two guys, also younger, who were heading home to Windhoek from visiting a friend in Botswana. They drove me all the way to my guest house in Windhoek. Door-to-Door service.