Learning to Drive

It looks like I’m gonna be buying a car so it’s become necessary to pass my Zambian driving test which whilst not difficult is something of a Palaver. We get dropped off at the Road Traffic offices at 8am and joined the already 30plus strong queue waiting to get their provisional licence application form. After queuing for a while Laura (Who was also applying) chatted up the guy at the information desk and managed to blague a form, I of course didn’t get one (Not pretty enough & wrong sex). After about an hour I went in to see “The Man” who took 10 seconds to stamp my form & tell me to go to window 9 pay. By all accounts this also means that I’ve passed my theory examination (Go figure?!). Apparently because the UK now ask Zambian drivers to retake their test when they come to the UK (You’ll see why later) they have determined that all Brits must do the Zambian Driving test, I believe this is the only country in Southern Africa where you can’t drive on your UK licence. Laura, on the other hand has been told to go to window 11 or 12 for a “Conversion” which would mean not having to take the test. Whilst this is against my guy’s advice we decide to give it a go as it would save a lot of time if we could avoid doing the test. I go to window 11 & Laura window 12. Laura arrives first and hits the next obstacle apparently we need a medical certificate before we can proceed, this sounds like bollocks but “Missy” behind the counter has go her best “Whatever” face on and we’re going nowhere. One of the security guards offers to sell us a medical certificate for 40,000k but we decide against. It’s now midday on day one (4 hrs in) and so far we’ve managed to get a form, it’s not looking good.
Stage II medical certificate.
I’ve contacted Corp med and booked myself in for a medical at 8.30 tomorrow morning and am now on my way to the government printers, thankfully close to the office in order to buy my medical form, which goes remarkably smoothly, so it’s off to Corpmed in the morning. After waiting a mere 15 mins the receptionist calls me, saying “I’ve looked you over and there’s nothing wrong, you look pretty healthy, so I’ve told the doctor you only need to do the eye test” which we do. I’m ushered into the Doctor’s office to hear “Yeah you’re right doesn’t seem to be much wrong with him”. He writes on my form “In excellent health”, signs it has a moan about the need to do medicals for this type of thing and then I’m off medical certificate in hand.
I’ve been driving around in a friends borrowed car for about a month without a licence and now have to decide whether to risk driving to the RTA licence centre or not, I take the risk. Unusually there’s little or no queues so “Missy” in window 12 happily authorises my form and sends me to room 3 where I have my photo taken and then to window 15 to pay for my provisional licence and try to book my test but apparently the cashier at window 15 can’t do this and I have to go to Cashier 6. I do this wait for an hour but eventually get my test form; I’m booked in for Friday at 2pm.
Having organised to hire a car for the afternoon I duly arrive at the test centre on time to be told I’m in a queue and they’ll call me when their ready. The driving test is in two parts one is a cone test and the other a drive around their test track. The cone test consists of driving forward and turning left then reversing back to where you started, then repeating the manoeuvre but turning right instead of left. If you touch a cone you’re out. There’s not much space either side of the car and once you’ve started you can’t readjust, it looks quite daunting to be fair. Fortunately for me the girl in the office takes pity on me and says I don’t need to take the cone test as I already have a UK licence. No-one passes it in the entire time that I’m there. Eventually the instructor comes for me and after driving for less than 5 mins he asks me to park and informs me that I’ve passed. Forty minutes later the requisite people have signed my form and I’m off. All I have to do now is go to the RTA to get my temporary licence on Monday and then go back in about a month for my permanent licence, a piece of cake!!!
I cause a bit of a stir at the RTA by questioning a number of queue jumpers and sending them to the back (Very British), One got so upset that he told me to "Fuck Off" (V unusal for a Zambian) and that I'd be fixed. When I suggested he may need some help "fixing me" the rest of the queue laughed and started to gang up on him, he scarpered. From there on in no-one was allowed to queue jump as all the locals were now challenging the jumpers as well as me. I see this as my greatest moment of capacity building since I've been here. It seems to me queue jumping isn't cultural, it's simply that most Zambians are too polite to say anything so some take advantage.
It looks like I've bought a car, a Toyota Hilux surf. The guy wanted 50m for it so I offered 45m thinking he'd back out but he's accpeted so now I'm worried about what's wrong with it, never happy.Anyway hopefully over the weekend we'll get things sorted but surprise surprise it's a long and bureacratic process to buy a car!!!!!!!!!!!!

There'll always be Zanzibar

Well today’s the big day, I fly to Dar to meet Helen and then on to Zanzibar. She’s only given me one task; buy some Gin, which shouldn’t be too hard, so it’s off to the airport and Paradise Island. Sadly the departure lounge is undergoing major renovation work at Lusaka airport so no Duty free shopping to be done, not to worry gin can be bought on board or at Blantyre (Malawi stop off). We get off safely despite the check in desk booking me onto the wrong flight, which they seemed pretty unconcerned about. A couple of hours later we stop at Blantyre and it’s off to duty free to do the Gin buying. Shit! The dollars I had in my pocket have gone. I rack my brains and can only conclude that the security guy at Lusaka lifted them when I put everything through the X-ray machine, a rookie Mzungo mistake. Oh well, the duty Free magazine tells me I can pay by credit card, so it’s Gin from the plane then. Silly me, when they say you can use credit cards what they meant was no you can’t use credit cards, so no Gin. However, we do have a previously unannounced but by all accounts scheduled stop in Lilongwe (Capital of Malawi). So all in all a 3-4 hr flight to Dar has taken from 10am until 6pm to arrive. I thought that I’d grown accustom to the weather in Africa but getting off the plane was like walking into an oven, so hot and tired I arrived at the Guest house I was staying in and I could always console myself with the fact that Helen was on a 30 hr bus ride from Uganda.6 hrs late she arrives, frazzled as you can imagine.

Next day we take the slow Ferry (Approx 3hrs) to Stone Town, capital of Zanzibar, at least we get 1st class for our foreigner rate of $20 each (locals pay about half). After a lot of fannying around looking at flop houses we find Zenji Hotel on budget. It’s HOT here and very humid, just coming to the end of the rainy season and you can tell. Off to the Africa House Hotel for sundowners.


The AFHH was formerly the British Club, left to go to rack & ruin when they left, now owned by an Omani business man who has restored it to its former glory. It even has darts & Billiards. The next few days are spent exploring the maze of narrow streets and alleys avoiding the intermittent downpours and trying to catch a museum or two in order to demonstrate our cultural credentials.


On Saturday we eat at the top tower restaurant, part of the hotel creatively entitled 236 Hurumzi (It’s on Hurumzi st and guess what, its number...). This is the second tallest building in Stone town (not allowed to be taller than the palace) and the rooftop restaurant affords fabulous panoramic views of the town and bay. There’s great food, music and dancing. Although Helen reckons their hip thrusting is not in the same league as the Zambians, it works for me?! All in all a pretty memorable night.

Next Stop Kendwa beach, which is in the north of the island and about an hour form Stone own. After more messing about and haggling we agree a deal at Sunset Bungalows on an apartment overlooking the beach and sea. They also have a great restaurant/bar on the beach with sofas and comfy chairs as well as what looks like a defunct pool table, the whole place has a pretty cool vibe. So, it’s down to the beach for a spot of afternoon sun bathing. Almost deserted beach, pure white sand and azure blue perfectly still sea (sorry got into a bit of brochure speak, but it really is true). The sand is such pure silica that it doesn’t absorb any heat from the sun even in the hottest part of the day. The next day we’re entertained on the beach by the antics of an attractive young lady who has decided that despite this being a Muslim country topless sunbathing was the order of the day. To be fair I was entertained, Helen less so, she was concerned about the cultural insensitivity. The story developed when a portly old boy (In speedos Natch) who was with her started taking her picture, swiftly graduating to film and seemingly only focused on one thing. It all got a bit steamy and we came to the conclusion that they were either Italians or porn stars; either way explained the cultural insensitivity.
We spent 3 days here lounging on the beach Helen getting a tan me sunburn, as per normal and not doing a lot else. Although we did check out the posh resort at the end of the beach who told us the cafe was closed despite there being people at the bar serving coffee, I don’t think we were up to “Snuff” as they might say at Westminster school.





From Kendwa we moved to Bweju, via Stone Town, on the East coast of Zanzibar. Bweju is even more remote than Kendwa and the sand is even whiter &finer, if that’s possible. There’s tremendous tidal shift here with the sea going out 100’s of metres at low tide which makes for an ever changing view but swimming only possible at certain times, oh well just lie about in the hammock then. No deal to be done this time but get a really cool bungalow at “Twisted Palm”. Another 4 idyllic days here lazing around eating great seafood and drinking G&Ts, hope it never ends but it does. So back to Stone town for the Spice Tour, not great and back to Dar to get the train home.
3 Days on a train goes surprisingly quickly but none the less we arrive 8-9 hrs late and have to get the bus back to Lusaka in the Dark, always an unnerving prospect but we get home safely.