Journey Part 1: Livingston to Lusaka

Wednesday, July 8

This was a long day. It really started at about 8:15 last night, when I walked down to the Livingstone bus "terminal" -- a street corner two blocks from the backpackers where I was staying. I arrived a good 10 minutes before the bus departed, but everyone else was already on board for the 7-hour, 500 km journey to Lusaka, which cost about $15. The bright blue bus was fancy -- as nice as most buses in the United States. One side of the aisle housed three seats per row; the other side two. I lugged my tent and my backpack to my seat by the window on the 3-seat side. My neighbors were a nice young woman and her mother -- and the six-year-old boy lying across their laps.

The road out of Livingstone had some rough, dusty patches. It was warm, so the windows were open, letting in plenty of dust to mix with the thick scent of 75 bodies. The dust quickly swirled throughout the bus, inducing plenty of sneezes and coughing. It burned my nose as I breathed, and my stung my eyes as I tried to look out the window. On the especially rough parts, the entire bus -- and everything in it -- shimmied and vibrated, completely drowning out the greatest hits of Enrique Iglesias. The full moon illuminated the landscape as we drove past. It was green -- tinted silver by the moon -- with savannah grass, brush, and trees occasionally interrupted by a cluster of thatch-roofed huts.

The most memorable part of the journey was the “toilet” breaks. A couple of times during the trip, the bus pulled over to the side of the road. Half the passengers scrambled off the bus and across the street, relieving themselves behind kiosks and other structures along the side of the road. Everyone goes at once -- men and women all in relatively close proximity, squatting, leaning, unzipping and zipping -- and then everyone races back on the bus. The whole thing takes a few minutes. I participated once, returning to the bus a little rattled, but I think I was the only one. That’s just how it’s done here. A few more bus rides, and I'm sure I’ll feel the same way.