I tried to come up with a nice succinct title for my thoughts about the journey from Durban, South Africa to Bujumbura, Burundi. But like the roads I took, it may look like an inch on the map before you but the reality is it’s going to be long, hard and nearly inaccessible by the average driver (reader). Both previous thoughts frustrate Kristy to no end. The drive to Burundi with little to no clue of where I was to stay along the way (or direction I was heading, in all reality) and the writing style that meanders between sentences as long as a Tanzanian highway and ever changing tenses.
My journey of 5700 km (3,541 miles for you Americans) started as a fun tandem with friend and fellow Hope Church-ite, and French speaking Burundian, Alain. The journey ended in a sort of race against darkness and a battle of nerves with drunk soldiers at the edge of Bujumbura.
The start was 2 weeks late. The reason being that newly purchased used vehicles need their log-book to get through borders. My log book was doing African time wadding through the red tape of South African banks and Currier services. The “I’ll make a plan” attitude of the shoot from the hip good-ol’ boy I bought my 2000 Toyota Land Cruiser Prado from didn’t exactly speed the process. By the time it arrived my heart was already in the hills of Burundi, my mind on coffee, and my wife about ready to have an anxiety attack with the sure mountain of details my optimistic and adventure ready self failed to attend to. She mentioned food would be good thing to bring. Yes, and that I should actually should buy a map. She also suggested plates and silverware/cutlery might be useful. I could continue, but for my sake lets just say I’m thankful that my wife made me bring along a roll of toilet paper just in case.
Morning 1. Tuesday.
4:30 am start. Shelly the creative director/videographer is at the gate to video me pulling off into the pre-dawn to fetch Alain. The night before we were meant to leave but a very unpleasant phone-call about the sure death of Ella if we fly her to Burundi made it less then ideal to hit the road. I made a great call, a morning start was much better. My good friend Cyril and I had spent the better part of Saturday loading the 4X4 with more house hold and coffee lab supplies then you can imagine. No really. Imagine….. your wrong, it’s more. A couple more hours rest, family time and what I didn’t realize was to be my last good meal in a week took place.
Alain loaded. One small bag, still too big for the 10 inch of luxury (read luggage) space I allocated each of us. Oh, and the nearly 150 lbs welding machine we squeezed on top of the already loaded roof rack. Open road. Full Land Cruiser. No coffee. Yet.
West coast to northern South African border never was reached so quickly. We two men… no, road warriors. A dynamic partnership meant to be. What could stop us? Botswana by dusk was our war cry. We might make Burundi in 5-6 days! This sunset banter was tossed around as we dodged flipped burning petrol trucks, police wielding speed cameras and finding the black elixir (coffee) half way in the coldest place in South Africa, Harrismith, Free State.
Then the border. 7pm. Dark. Ominous in the glow of flickering florescent bulbs.
The first border.
The easy border.
The border that beat us and nearly sent me home.
Alain was denied entry to Botswana.
Coffee Guy
Will the story continue? Is there an end? Oh, to find out if our road warrier makes it! Cannot put down the book, even though I know how it ends. That’s right this is a blog and we will have to wait.