Hello from Francistown in Botswana! If there is one thing I have learnt today it is this: if you think driving 600 kilometres is only going to take 6 hours, you are wrong. It will probably take 8 hours. It’s called “African time” and it is thriving in Botswana!
The speed limit on the A1 is 120 kilometres/hour, but most people drive it at 80 kilometres/hour. At first this is infuriating, but eventually you learn to go with it. You also realise that there is a method in their maddening driving pace. There are little towns and settlements all along the way and the speed limit in these zones is 80 kilometres/hour, dropping rapidly to 60 kilometres/hour. The police are everywhere with their cameras and the fines are often in the region of P1 000. Needless to say I am now a master at dropping my speed from 120 to 80. It will always be remembered as a skill I learnt in Botswana!
It didn’t help that we left Mafikeng at 13h00 either. This is getting worse by the day! But a huge lesson has been learnt (and that is part of what this trip is about) about organising your foreign currency long before your trip. After a delicious French toast, bacon and maple syrup breakfast at Ferns Country Lodge, I headed off to FNB to get Botswana Pula and US Dollars, only to be told that they don’t do foreign currency on a Saturday because there are no “rates”. I ask you! How do Bureau de Changes do it then? Friday’s rates? Of course, despite being near a border, there are no Bureau de Changes in Mafikeng either (not that I could find). There was nothing else to do, but get Pula at the border. Then, just to add to the delay (and irritation), the taxi in front of me smashed into another car at the intersection, right in the middle. Four roads of traffic coming in and an accident in the middle. It was almost as chaotic as the night before. Except this time I could actually see the potholes. My pothole-dodging skills are getting pretty good too – great practice for Zimbabwe!
When the Ramatlabama border post loomed in front of me I broke out into a sweat. Did I have the right papers? Would I be able to get Pula? Where they going to be mean to me? The last time I crossed a border post in a car was when I was a little girl, but now everything rested on me (being an adult is not always as much fun as they promised!) Turns out I needn’t have worried. They were nothing but helpful. First stop was Customs where I had to declare my goods. First off I said I had nothing to declare (like you do at airports and I am used to those), but was asked if I had a laptop or cameras. Of course I have those. This resulted in me having to fetch my laptop from the boot of the car as they require serial numbers. The Customs lady had a good sense of humour and endless patience, which was a huge bonus. I left with my SARS certificate and she pointed me in the right direction to get Pula. You can get Pula on the Botswana side too, but I decided to be safe and get mine on the South African side. So after going through Immigration (very easy) I took a short walk to a blue-roofed tin house, which was the Bureau de Change. I have no doubt I didn’t get the best rates, but that’s the price you pay for being disorganised! I got my Pula and drove to the Botswana side. There is a vehicle inspection en-route, but this was quick. I think all the Christmas presents “going to Zimbabwe” soften the inspectors!
The Botswana side had a queue that snaked out of the building. It was as hot as hell and within five minutes the sweat was pouring. Some people (who have obviously done this before) had umbrellas to cover them from the sun. What a great idea. I am going to use my parasol (which I have brought for Vic Falls Carnival) at the Plumtree border! I wasn’t told that I needed to fill out a an immigration form, but thankfully the kind people in front of me asked if I had done so, otherwise I would’ve got to the front and been sent to the back again!
The whole process was fairly quick and painless (apart from the searing heat), but no assistance is offered for newbies. I left the building with a gate pass, only to find out that I needed to go to another counter to get my Third Party Insurance. That, plus other border fees, came to P120 and the TPI is valid for 3 months. Thank goodness as I enter Botswana again later. The final stop was for another vehicle inspection and again this was quick. Turns out the inspector was originally from Zimbabwe (he worked at the Plumtree border for 7 years) and we got chatting about our hometowns. He wished me well and told me not to speed as “you must get to your mummy alive”. Bless!
There is a garage just past the border post where you can fill up with fuel and, in my case, let everyone know that you have made to the other side! I got a Mascom SIM card for P25, with P5 worth of airtime, so I also bought airtime. When I came out of the shop a herd of sheep were making their way through the garage! Botswana, we love you!
The rest of the journey was fairly uneventful, apart from drivers who insist on driving at 80 kilometres/hour in 120 zones. But as I said earlier, it became evident why. The A1 is a good road to drive on with only one or two potholes just after the border. We did make a stop for cows crossing and there were plenty of goats and donkeys on the side of the road as well. It is also the first time I have driven past cows waiting at a bus station and also cow roadkill!
Gaberone is a massive town with very modern buildings. We made a stop and I attempted to get a pizza at Debonairs, but pizza is clearly a popular option in this town as Debonairs was in chaos. I decided to skip it and keep driving. Gaberone may be modern, but it’s not so well sign-posted– we started heading out in the wrong direction as there was no signs for Francistown at the T-Junction. Luckily people are helpful and you only have to ask. We stopped in Mahalapye and bought an Energade (I am living on those!), but still nothing to eat! There were pies and sausage rolls in the shop, but I wasn’t going to trust those! Apparently there is a good Wimpy in Palapye, but we didn’t know about that then! Since breakfast I had been surviving on Energade drinks and Chomps… It’s probably all that sugar that keeps me going!
Darkness was falling and I was nervous about cows on the road, but luckily none decided to cross. The traffic on the roads was incredible; obviously we were not the only ones wanting to get to Francistown or the Ramokgwebana/Plumtree border that day. It was comforting in a way – if anything happened and we had to pull over I am sure we would’ve had assistance from another driver. I am not too sure about Trevor’s mechanical skills!
Luckily the Getz is proving to be a reliable little car so no pull-overs were needed and we eventually arrived in Francistown at about 22h00 – a seven hour drive, which in theory should’ve taken five hours! We managed to find our abode for the night (at a friend’s house) and after a midnight feast of paella and two Savanna’s it was much-needed bedtime!
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