Lusaka, Zambia. 5th January 2026

When I arrived back at the airport I was very pleased to see that Narendra had arranged for someone to pick me up. So in very short order I was back at his house.
The first job was to sort the bike out. The battery was flat but was quickly jump started. Tyres were pumped up, riding gear was changed into and I was ready to go. But where to?
Natwange Backpackers wasn’t showing any vacancies so I found an alternative place and headed towards it. On the way I called into customs to get my Temporary Import Permit extended for the final thirty days.
The small guest house complex I’d selected had a motorbike shop a couple of doors along so I engaged their help to change my chain and sprocket, which I’d brought back with me.
With that done I then fitted a new spark plug, new fuel filter, injector and USB phone charger. I also wanted to fit new spotlights but the holes in the original mounting brackets were too small. That job was put to one side until I could get them drilled out.
And then another problem jumped up to surprise me. Neither my debit or credit card were working. I’d discovered this in the airport at Addis Adabba when I tried to buy coffee but had dismissed it as ‘travellers’ blues’.
Now I needed cash from an ATM, but no go on that score. Fortunately I had plenty of dollars so was able to go to an exchange bureau to get funds.
After a couple of days the credit card came to life, enabling me to get cash. But the debit card never worked again and had to be replaced.
I wanted to go back to Natwange so I rode over there to find they had no problem with accommodating me. And while I was there I managed to get the fittings for the spotlights sorted out by a local car workshop. He didn’t have a drill so his solution was to tap a hole for the screw, which worked well. A good bit of lateral thinking.
While back at home I’d discovered something that surprised me. I stood on a set of accurate scales and saw the figure 80kgs. Was this Christmas over indulgence or too much coffee and cake? Whichever, I was determined to reduce that figure. So I went on a BBC diet. No Beer, no Biscuits and no Cake.
I didn’t find it too difficult to keep to it, especially the ‘no beer’ part of it. Let’s be fair, tasteless lager has no inherent desirable quality. And I was keen to keep it going.

Four German guys arrived on bikes, all in their 50s/60s. None of the bikes were BMWs so well done to them.
But they’d also travelled down that awful road in Tanzania and had suffered some damage. One bike had a broken frame and one a blown rear shock. Repairs were under way locally.
I had a different bike problem to resolve. Somehow I’d mislaid the ignition key when I was back at home. I had the spare with me but I didn’t like having only one key.
Google found me a locksmith so I went over there to get a spare cut. The guy was impressively careful about it, making sure the blank fitted the lock then carefully cutting the key. I was impressed.
There’s been a young woman staying here, name of Maddie, and I invited her down to the mall for a coffee. We talked a bit about NZ , where she’s from, then I asked her why she was here.
Zimbabwe was the answer to that. She’s a partner in an enterprise that is training people in the arena of health care, self sufficiency and mining. I was stunned!
One investor is Chinese and he’ll concentrate on the mining industry, which is mostly Chinese run. He’s a 40% partner and has invested money. The second guy is local and has many contacts within govt etc. He’s a 20% partner.
Maddie is bringing her expertise from her time working for the NZ government, plus donating her labour to set things up. Their fifteen year plan is to set up a Foundation and build a hospital focussing on gynaecological issues, especially cancer. That’s quite a plan!
Meanwhile she’s giving courses to women, her main focus, on legal knowledge about marriage and business.
The government is quite supportive of their work and having the local guy on board should mean the possibility of getting grants and contracts. Similarly from local businesses.
She said there’s a two tier economy, with mostly white run businesses above and small, local ones below. Of course there is lots of corruption but she reckons that from a business point of view Mugabe was better than the current government. I was surprised to hear that.
It’s a very ambitious project and it’s clear to me that big things will happen for them. They’re starting small and have plans already laid. They’ll bring experts in as and when needed.
She said she’d give me some contacts in Zimbabwe who’d help me enjoy my time there. Unfortunately that didn’t happen in the end because we lost contact.
And then I met another woman, German this time, name of Sylvia. She arrived one evening and we got chatting. I told her about some of the things there were to see locally and we arranged to go out the next day.

After breakfast we went to see the Henry Tayali Gallery. I’d been there before but was happy to go again.
I enjoyed looking at the paintings once more and saw some things in them that I hadn’t seen before.
After we left there I spotted a building with AA Zambia on it. Of course I had to go in.
I spoke to a young guy there and told him my history with the AA in the UK. He introduced me to his father, who’s the Managing Director. It turns out that they only set it up in 2011 and have 200 members. Small beer, but with big plans.
They offer roadside assistance, insurance, travel and so on. They particularly focus on GPS, although I didn’t actually find out in exactly what way.

It was a really nice serendipitous meeting and Sylvia was very impressed with my enthusiasm for my old job and for meeting these people.
Then we headed to the Embassy Park Presidential Burial Site, which houses the tombs of Zambia’s dead presidents. The main one, of course was Kenneth Kaunda, the first one.
We walked in and looked in one of the buildings. When we came out a guy approached us saying we needed to pay, but we hadn’t seen anywhere to do so. $15 per person, he said.
We let him show us around then as we left I tried to give him 50 Kwacha in lieu of payment. He was happy to bypass the official system but said that 50 was not enough! So I added 100 Kwacha to it and then we left. $8 instead of $30 was perfectly alright with us.

On the way to that place we stopped for coffee but had pizza as well. I was suffering from chest congestion and really needed a break from the long walk.
We had a great lunch together, chatting about this and that. A lot of it was politics related to places we’d visited. She’s very intelligent and switched on. I found myself liking her a lot.
After the burial site we carried on walking to the museum and the freedom statue. I was happy to look round the museum again and Sylvia enjoyed it too.
We decided to get a taxi home and managed to flag down an empty mini bus. My phone had died by now so I couldn’t try for a Bolt taxi. The guy asked for 300 Kwacha and we offered 100. We settled on 150, which was fair. He took us most of the way back but was then keen to pick up people who were waiting at a bus stop near to the hostel.
We had a great day out and exchanged WhatsApp numbers for a possible reunion sometime in the future.
Later in the evening I checked the statistics for my blog. WordPress can tell me how many unique visitors I’ve had and how many total visits.
To my utter amazement I’d had over five hundred. That was unheard of. A bit if digging revealed most of them were from the USA and most to the home page. I strongly suspected Bot activity although I couldn’t think why. Possibly AI reading it? Who knows.
I’d hung around in Lusaka long enough. It was time to head for Livingstone and Victoria Falls.
En route was another water related feature I was keen to see, the Kariba Dam. At the time this was one of the largest civil engineering projects in Africa and, by blocking the Zambezi River, it created Lake Kariba, which is still the largest man made lake on the continent.
But on the way there I had a small job to do. I wanted to visit Kafue Bridge. The present bridge was erected in the 1990s but the original one came from London and had been part of one of three emergency bridges that crossed the River Thames in WW2.

The story behind that is as follows. I’m signed up to a Substack newsletter called Londonist: Time Machine. It covers all sorts of historical facts and features about London. Follow the link and sign up if you’re interested in the world’s best city.
One edition described the emergency bridges that spanned the Thames during the war and how two of them had ended up in East Africa.
It turned out that I’d already crossed the one in Uganda that is still doing sterling service taking traffic across the Kazinga Channel. I hadn’t seen the article at that time so didn’t have any reason to take a photo.

But my friend Andy, of Mad or Nomad, was over that way so he took some and sent them to me. Have a look at the Mad or Nomad website for fulsome amounts of travel advice and information.
At Kafue Bridge I managed to find the stone plinth with several plaques on it detailing the bridge’s history. I took some photos of that and sent them to Matt, who writes the news letter, along with the those of Kazinga Bridge. And I’m pleased to say he published them and gave me a mention.

But it wasn’t long before my self congratulatory feelings came crashing down to earth. And here’s the sorry tale.
Not long after I left Kafue Bridge the bike started misfiring and ground to a halt with the orange engine light flashing away. My immediate diagnosis was that something was wrong.
A loose battery terminal had given me a similar problem once before so I checked those and it restarted. Then it stopped again.
I then suspected a problem with the work I had done when I came back so I changed the spark plug. It started then stopped again.
Off came the fairings and fuel tank so I could change the injector. It started then stopped again.
So I removed the fuel pump to check it. But by now the battery, and my jump starter pack were flat.
While I was doing this a young lad came over to talk to me and apologised for not being able to help me. How cute. I guess he just wanted to practice his English.
Help did arrive in the form of a couple of guys in a pick up truck who had a spare battery and some wire, giving me a jump start. The bike cranked but wouldn’t fire. At this stage the original parts were back in.
“Have you got petrol?” one of them asked? “Yes “ I said, “the gauge is showing three quarters full.” But that was false. In the process of replacing the fuel pump into the tank, after replacing the filter, I’d got it 90 degrees out and the float was jammed.
I’d seen that before I’d left and had not filled up, forgetting that I’d left the bike at Narendra’s house with the tank almost empty. Where I’d been even more stupid was in not realsing how empty the tank was while I was taking it on and off the bike.
The only spare fuel I had was 500ml in the cooker bottle. Once I’d put that in the bike started. Talk about feel a fool.
My rescuers said there would be petrol for sale from a roadside stall further down the road. We set off but I didn’t get all that far before running dry again. They carried on and then came back with 2.5 litres in a bottle.
I paid for that and was more than happy to give each of them some money too. They’d earned it.
After that idiotic episode things turned round in my favour. I got pulled in by the police after I’d gone past a speed camera at 63Kph in a 40Kph limit.
They pulled a car in at the same time so while one officer was doing some ‘business’ with that driver I went and talked to the guy on the camera.
I told him there was no sign and he said “You just didn’t see it”. So I said it must be because I’m old.
When I told him how old I was he asked to see my passport to prove it. I told him where I’d travelled from and he was suitably impressed. So impressed that he let me go. “Old person’s discount”, he said, laughing. I didn’t hang around to argue.
At the hotel for that night I saw a large collection of cars in the parking area with lots of guys milling around. A rally? Visitors arriving?
They were still there next morning so I asked one of the guys about them. He said they’d been delivered from Zimbabwe, where cars were much cheaper, and were being prepared for sale. I was surprised that importing them was so easy.
After some breakfast I rode down to see the dam but it was closed for maintenance. “It will be open tomorrow”, I was told.
Back at the hotel I did some maintenance of my own, sorting out a few minor problems on the bike.
Next morning it was chucking it down with rain so I booked another night at the hotel and spent some time watching Premier League football in the bar.

Next day I finally made it to the dam. Because it straddled the border with Zimbabwe I had to leave my passport at immigration in return for a chit.
I walked across the dam and saw a couple of crocodiles down at the bottom. There were info boards detailing its history.
It’s an amazing piece of engineering and construction was started in 1955, but not finally finished until 1977 when the second hydro-electric plant was built. The Zambezi river was diverted while it was built and then realigned.

Both Zambia and Zimbabwe benefit from the power produced. Both countries have expanded the generating capacity over the years. It is managed jointly.
57,000 Tonga people were displaced by the creation of the lake and eighty construction workers died. Around 6,000 large animals were rescued over a five year period and moved elsewhere as the lake slowly filled up.

Very disruptive but very impressive. This is the Wiki link if you want to know more.
A couple of days later, after riding plenty of dirt roads on the way, I arrived in Livingstone. This is the closest town to the Zambian side of Victoria falls. I’d been recommended Jolly Boys Hostel, which proved to be a good place although I wasn’t happy with some of the financial aspects.
I hadn’t booked but was happy enough when I was told that a bed was $16. I paid for four nights by credit card but when I checked the final amount I found I’d been charged $20. I was not happy!
Their argument was that $16 was a cash price. My argument was that adding 25% for a card payment was robbery. They admitted that the credit card charge to them was only 5% on top.
I kept pushing my point and in the end was given two free breakfasts as ‘compensation’ but no refund. I suspected that the desire for cash was all about not paying taxes.
Which is another point. Breakfast wasn’t included in the price and neither was a towel. When I asked exactly what I did get for my $20 a towel magically appeared.
Next day I joined a walking tour of the town along with other people from the hostel, Hannah and a Dutch couple, Charlotte and Leon.
The problem that we all had with it was that we could barely understand what the guide was saying as his English was very poor. The only good thing we saw was the ‘Forest of Faces’.
This was a small park where faces had been carved into the trunks of dead trees.

One had the faces of four generations of chiefs on it – a real family tree. There were male and female statues; animals and so on. Very good indeed.

Later in the evening there was a quiz. Leon and I were joined by a young couple. We’d already chosen the team name, Jolly Old Boys. It was good fun but we only came 5th. But most of the other teams were much bigger so we did OK.
They seemed to have come in from outside as they all disappeared afterwards. But I’m sure the bar was happy.
Next morning was my day for visiting Victoria Falls. I took advantage of the free mini bus run by the hostel down to the entrance.
I’d been told it was $30 to get in but it was only $20. That made up a bit for the hostel’s over charging.
I followed the signs down to the viewpoints, decrying the offer of a rented waterproof cape. When I got down there I was suitably impressed and became suitably damp. Indeed, wet. Fortunately I had a waterproof with me.
The falls go across the Zambezi River in one single span of 1,700 metres and fall, without interruption, over 108 metres. The whole length can only be seen from the air but various viewpoints gave sight of different sections.
Walkways and bridges took me past them and there were convenient stopping points at intervals. I did get quite damp from the spray which was like being in a heavy shower most of the time.

I made my way down the steep path to the Boiling Pot. As the water flows down the gorge it’s forced to take a very sharp right turn, creating a maelstrom of churning, foamy water.
A group of lads were down there too and one suggested I might like to go in. I said that I would if he would. Neither of us did.

Back up the top, after a steep climb of nearly 400 steps, I admired the WW1 cenotaph, a statue of Dr Livingstone and bought a cup of coffee.
It was Livingstone who was the first European to see the falls in 1855 and he named them after Queen Victoria. The local name is Mosi-oa-Tunya—”The Smoke That Thunders” and it continues in common local usage. Livingstone also cited an older name, Seongo or Chongwe, which means “The Place of the Rainbow”, as a result of the constant spray.
From there I walked across to the road/rail bridge, built by Cecil Rhodes as part of his ambitious Cape Town to Cairo rail way, a project that was never finished.

Because the bridge is part of the border I had to get a chit from immigration once again although they didn’t keep my passport.
The bridge is home to a very long zip line and a very deep bungee jump. I wasn’t tempted by either.
I did make a ‘friend’. A guy who wanted to know how I was and where I came from but only wanted to sell me trinkets, of course. When I said no thanks he said he only wanted a dollar for lunch. I pointed to my expanding stomach and his very expansive one and suggested that neither of us really needed any.

It’s impossible not to be impressed, even overwhelmed, by a natural phenomenon such as Victoria Falls. The sheer grandeur, the massive size and the mental task of trying to imagine just how much water actually flows over it is mind boggling.
A long time ago I visited Niagra Falls, equally majestic. Which one is best, biggest, fullest, longest or highest? I really don’t know and it really doesn’t matter. These things are beyond human scale.
For more facts this is the Wiki link.
I caught a local minibus back to the hostel where I chilled out for the afternoon. There was free food that evening. Just rice and veges. Music was playing, Hannah and Charlotte were up dancing so Leon and I sat chatting. I have an invite to visit them in The Netherlands if I get any where near to them on my travels.
I paid a visit to the local museum. A lot of info about the 400 year old copper mining industry, and one of the key earners for the British occupiers. Fortunately it now benefits Zambians.
Particularly good was a 3D model of the falls and all the ravines the water flows through. It made it easy to understand the geological layout.

Just after breakfast I was approached by a woman and asked if I was Geoff. It turned out she was Heidi, a woman whose name I recognised from one of the WhatsApp groups, who travels with her dog named Harley, on a Harley.
We chatted briefly but I was about to go out. She said she’d read my blogpost about Rwanda which inspired her to visit there. That made me feel good. We arranged to meet later.

Leon is a spiritual person and although he isn’t religious he does like to go to local church services to see what they’re about. He’d heard that the local Rastafarians where holding a service that morning so we got a taxi and set off to find it.
After a certain amount of driving down bumpy and puddle filled back roads, we came to the location to find nothing going on. A guy at the site said it happened at 4pm so we had to go back.
On the way back there we came across a guy walking along, who turned out to be one of the Rasta elders. Back at the centre we were told that the service had been at 10am. No it bloody well hadn’t!
Another guy named Ruben was there and some Ethiopian flags were strung between trees, so something had definitely happened.

We sat and talked, with the elder, Silochi, explaining what it was all about. It began in the 1920s when Haille Selassi took the Ethiopian throne. Their creation myth is based on some of the old testament stories, with Noah’s sons representing Africa, Europe and Asia.
They’re not creationists as they understand and accept evolution. But they use the Noah myth as a way of saying that we’re all from one source.
I challenged him on a couple of things, pointing out that most of the old testament was the absolute opposite of their beliefs, which he accepted. But I wasn’t there to upset anyone so I didn’t bother to ask him how the world population grew out of four men and one woman, who were all related to each other.
It was both interesting and enlightening to sit and listen to him speaking.
I spent the rest of the evening chatting to Heidi about travelling and the different places we’d been to.

She runs a liver cancer charity and gives presentations about it. She survived liver cancer herself so is giving something back. She obtained sponsorship from Harley Davidson who supplied, and maintain,s the Harley she’s riding. She’s been to several southern African countries already and is definitely getting the taste for travelling.
We got along very well and plan to meet up again when I get to South Africa. She lives on the Western Cape, an area I’ll be visiting anyway.

Heidi and Harley, Charlotte and Leon, all left the next morning. I stayed one more day before heading off to Namibia.

Despite my financial displeasures with them I can safely say that Jolly Boys Backpackers was a great place to stay. It was very popular, with plenty going on, and is perfectly located for visiting the Zambian side of Victoria Falls.
Zambia itself was a great country. Good roads, English spoken and cards accepted everywhere. Everything well organised. Plenty of places to visit and things to see.
The only thing that gave me a degree of unease was the number of trucks I saw that had driven into the roadside ditches.
One crash involved two trucks, both of them in the ditch. I struggle to understand how it happens and the worrying thing is, suppose it happened right in front of me and took me out too?