On the Road

(written 23 August 2011)

Only kilometers out of Lusaka, the city begins to melt away.  I've secured a super hitch with a kind Zambian gentleman headed toward the Copperbelt; he'll drop me 1/4 of the way in Kapiri Mposhi (though, since I'm only endeavoring to cover 1/2 of the trip to Kasama today, he's really getting me halfway).  I'm venturing back to Mbala district the way someone might move cross-country to Alaska, with several overnight stops along the way.
[...later that day...]
My super hitch, in addition to transporting me in his clean (though not ostentatious) ride, bought me a Sprite and a tea break, let me doze in his car while he drove, and didn't once ask for my phone number.  He even bypassed the usual Kapiri junction to deposit me at a police checkpoint nearby, imploring the officers to help me secure a free ride the rest of the way to Serenje.  I'm not entirely sure if I should be attempting to secure a hitch or not; they've told me I can sit (and I am, resting on my blue Cabela's pack, with my back against the mud brick wall of the checkpoint post), but many vehicles, including cushy private ones, have gone past without inquiry.  Serenje isn't far--3 or 4 hours, at most--and it's still mid-morning, so I'm not worried, but it is interesting to see exactly what happens (or doesn't) at these checkpoints from the police's perspective.

It will be a few days before I arrive back at my own house and get to sleep in my own bed, but already I am shifting back into the Zambian territory I love.  The police, who are working 24-hour shifts, have made a big brazier out of a tire rim, and for lunch someone procured a live chicken, which--having suffered the fate of a sharp knife--is sizzling in hot oil at the moment.  Moments ago, for the first time in over two weeks, I used a grass-walled icimbusu (pit latrine) instead of a porcelain toilet, and it was lovely not to hassle with faulty flushing mechanisms or the reality of using a gallon of water to whisk away a few squares of toilet paper.  And Mambwe!  Though I fear I've gotten a bit rusty, having used it minimally in Lusaka (where English is the standard vernacular, and there are very few Mambwes in general, so different local languages are used), using it with the officers here has come naturally.  I'm not home yet, but I'm getting there, and it feels good.