3 Hours in Zambia; February 24, 2007

Change of plans. We are not heading south to the Malawian town of Zomba for a hiking weekend. Instead, D and I are tasked with coming up with a plan B. And we do.

D and I are going to try to get into Zambia, the neighboring country to the west – all inspired by the Check Game, something that my five close German School pals and I have concocted and furiously compete at.

The Check Game

The aims of the game are quite simple, really. The individual that manages to visit the most countries in the world, wins. You get a point for each country visited, no matter the size or location. And you can only earn a point for a country once – repeat visits do not increase your point tally. Did I mention things can get quite competitive?

At the moment, our leader board has two of the six competitors somewhere in the neighborhood of 50+ countries visited.

Now, in recent times, this heated, yet fair competition has brought up valid and impassioned discussions among the six of us, for example:
- Should countries that do not exist anymore (e.g. USSR, East Germany) be counted?
- What constitutes ‘visiting’ a country? Should a flight connection in a country count?

Employing the Olympic spirit, keeping fairness and equality in mind, we decided that:
- ‘Historic’ countries should be counted like any existing country
- ‘Visiting’ a country equates to traveling in and/or conducting some sort of tourist/business within that country – quite often and if possible, this should involve a local beverage and/or beer. It’s really a matter of establishing oneself temporarily in that country – thus, a flight connection, even if a beer is consumed in the airport, should not and will not be counted towards an individual’s point total.

So it’s a quick call to Jeff, another doc, and it’s a three-party venture. I’m driving E’s truck today, D to my left and Jeff in the back. We’re headed west towards Mchinji, the Malawian border town right on the border with Zambia. It’s a fun drive, it’s fun driving.
And all those people walking on the roads. The towns we pass through have a lot of activity – it seems it is market day. It rains a bit, but we don’t stop, other than at the friendly patrol stops, until we reach the Malawian immigration post.

We park the car, eagerly step up to the passport control, and start filling out our exit documentation. Then we hit a speed bump: we are told that the visa fee to enter Zambia will run us US$100 each, which is much higher than the US$25 that our (respected) guide book quoted. D keeping the spirit of the Check Game in mind, decides to selflessly venture towards the border. He steps through an old chain-link fence and disappears. Jeff and I stay on the Malawian side and wait, hoping that our 120 km trip has not been in vain.

Check!

Eureka! D returns and has managed to ‘negotiate’ the terms of our entry – we will have to pay US$100 for the three of us. The necessary forms are completed in Malawi, passports are stamped and we cross. James, our resourceful, entrepreneurial Zambian immigration official, happily takes our five Andrew Jacksons and assures us he will be present when we return later today. Let’s hope so!

We’re really only halfway there, though. We need a meal/beverage to get the point. That means we need to get to Chipata, the closest town in Zambia and in order to do that we need to hire a taxi. And in order to do that we need Zambian currency – the Zambian Kwacha (ZK).

We exit the immigration post and the vultures descend upon us. These ‘businessmen’ all want our attention. And in this makeshift, open-air stock exchange, we manage to change twenty bucks each and make out with ZK80,000 each.

So a deal is negotiated with Friday (“it’s a good day, it's a cool name”), our driver, for ZK50,000, one-way to Chipata. A considerable discount from the ZK90,000 that was originally thrown at us. His light blue, four-door something drives well, in spite of the huge cracks in the front windshield. His pal, Godfrey, has magically appeared and is also getting a ride into town. We manage to get a restaurant recommendation too and get dropped off in front of the place after the 15 minute drive, having agreed on a time and location for the pick up and return trip.

The vegetarian meal is adequate, the conversation is great, and after a stroll through the local market and walk through the supermarket, Friday picks us up and takes us back towards the border.

Back inside Malawi, with James’ Zambian exit stamps in our passports, we see many bikers carrying an inordinate amount of items on their racks. Some of them are carrying huge stacks of wood – how they balance that, I have no idea. We also stop at a local soccer match between two schools and watch for a while.

I wonder whether I have moved up in the rankings. 35 and counting.