With our bags packed and goodies for the train purchased, we clambered aboard the old sleeper car and into our cabin. Luckily, the arrangement of cabins is by two and four people, perfect for John, Evan, Hewsan, and me. Two bottom bunks, two top bunks, and two large windows looking out on the passing scenery. Temperatures dipped considerably during the night, but we had blankets supplied to us in enormous plastic zip top bags large enough to fit a small child comfortably (no bed bugs!). Everything about the cabin, like the rest of the train, was washed out, worn out, nonfunctional, but perfectly reasonable for $4!
There were more than a few stories online about the train hitting elephants on the tracks late at night, and there were clearly anti-elephant measures placed along the tracks in certain places. Fortunately, there was no elephant-related derailment, nor any derailment of any kind, although I think we did stop for an interminable period in the early hours of the morning. Regardless, we had a good time.
We arrived in Bulaweyo late but not terribly so (maybe two hours) and went in search of a bus to Pretoria. Greyhound, it turns out, had screwed us, but there were plenty of coach buses to be had, so we bought tickets later from another company. In the intervening time we wandered a bit through Bulewayo, which is a rather odd city in my opinion, and ate lunch. It seemed like something out of 1960s or 70s rustbelt America, with ugly, nondescript concrete block buildings dotted with the occasional aged colonial building surrounded by greenery.
Although the bus from Bulaweyo also left late (more than an hour), it turned out to be a comfortable ride complete with, yes, eight hours straight of Shaka Zulu. Now, if you haven’t seen this classic marvel of a series, run, no, sprint to your nearest computer and attempt to illegally download said program. It was a revelation filled with elaborate sets and costumes, large-scale battle scenes, and a really uncomfortable level of jiggling bare breasts. Okay, so maybe revelation and marvel are bit too complimentary, but it was rather (darkly) humorous to watch so much of the series.
The only rough bit of the trip back to Pretoria, as we had been warned, was the border crossing back into South Africa. The entire process took about three hours and there were people just everywhere, even late in the evening. The most worrisome event of the entire trip also transpired on the South Africa side. After going through border control and nonchalantly circumventing a baggage check with all the other passengers on our bus, the South African border police did one last spot check on us before allowing everyone back on the bus. Sure enough, the guy managed to grab the four white guys and four random African men for a “random” search. I didn’t expect anything different, but you it pays to be a little wary in such situations.
The officer escorted us to the “screening area,” which was in fact a small enclosed space off a men’s bathroom. Uh-oh. He proceeded to pat down the four African men, pausing only to give one Zimbabwean guy a hard time because his reason for visiting SA was rather vague (come on man, just say you’re visiting a friend!). At this point, I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but I was bracing myself and secretly hoping Hewsan’s would keep his Bostonian mouth shut (Hewsan, god bless him, has a sometimes worrisome knack of arguing or confronting in the entirely wrong situations). Does he want money, cameras, something else of value?
Turns out, the guy was just a pervert and wanted to cop a feel; he wasn’t corrupt, or, at least, not in your traditional way. Were we violated, yes, but we didn’t have to fork over any money or other valuables, which just might have been worth the trouble. My body involuntarily shuddered as I climbed aboard the bus but we were moving onwards to Pretoria! Border successfully navigated.
Back again with Mozambique in tomorrow or Saturday.
Zach
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