| Leaving Vilancolos, Mozambique as the sun started to rise and
Africa began to awake, we ran towards our 'trusty' African bus. |
| Our trip was to be a long one, it involved a long overcrowed bus
ride and trying to hitch to the train station to catch a train to
the border. Being the last day of our bribed visa, it was time to
leave this paradise and head to Zimbabwe. |
| Once again the local bus looked as if it might fall to pieces
any second. Although still the Africans piled on with their chickens
and rice until we were firmly squashed inside, and our rucksacks
were supposedly succured on top! |
| Suprisingly we managed to hitch a lift but it wasn't your usual
mode of transport. Hoarded onto the back of an open truck, we were
covered by a large, disgusting blanket and told to keep down. This
was because our white faces would cause the policemen to hold up
the truck. Of course we were grateful to this blanket as we valued
our camera's and money. |
| After many hours like this, my bladder decided it had had enough
and began to swell considerably. Luckily our lift decided he would
stop for his daily dose of rice. I hopped out from my camouflage
and started to run. Whilst running all I could think of was squatting
down and peeing. Yet the locals on the truck had different ideas
for me, they were screaming "Mrs, Mrs, Mrs" and then following
it with some Portuguese or African language. Obviously my friends
tried to sort out this minor problem and 5 minutes later, I heard
"SHIT! THERE'S LAND MINES ANGIE, GET OUT". Well so much
for the pee, my body froze and my heart felt as if it might explode.
I slowly stood up and zig- zagged my way very carefully back to
the vehicle. By the time I returned I felt as if I had run a marathon.
The rest of the trip was spent with a very wet pair of shorts! |
|
Our next disaster arrived after we got on the train marked "TO
THE BORDER!". After being charged an astronomical price for
1st class tickets that we didn't want. We realised that we had
two hours left until the border closed. The next hour was spent
chewing our nails, until finally the train pulled to a stop and
we jumped off.
Looking around us we could see beautiful countryside but no sign
of border posts!
|
| Our faces became panic stricken and we searched for someone who
spoke English. A young African approached and said "Follow
right behind me to the border. Must run, only have hour!!"
With little water in our dehydrated bodies, we ran with our 'hefty'
rucksacks through deep valleys, hills and verges. Obviously trying
to avoid the land mines. |
| At 6.01 we touched on the Zimbabwe soil, almost on our knees!
From here we were lucky to catch a lift in the last car (If you
could call it that) into the town of Mutare, where we remembered
a cafe that sold Western hamburger's and milkshakes!! |
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