I wake up, repack my belongings, and walk down the hill to the bus station to have breakfast. The only thing on the menu at “Mum’s Restaurant” is manioc (which she calls "sadza") and chicken, which I order and scarf down. It costs $2. After the meal, I ask a woman behind the counter -- presumably Mum -- how to get to Lubumbashi, which everyone seems to call “Lumbash.” She says that she knows someone who can help me; she will call him. So I return to my guest house, gather my belongings, and march back to the bus station. Here is the view from my guest house (which lacked running water, by the way).
Mum greets me as I walk back into the restaurant. Her name is Kristen, and she says that a man named Kelvin will greet me near the border and help me cross. Kristen escorts me through the many parked buses to the taxi I want: the one heading towards Chililabombwe.
I wait in the taxi for 10 minutes, it fills up, and we are off. The 30-minute ride (for $4) is uneventful until we approach the border. I know we are getting close because trucks line the road as far as the eye can see. I presume they are waiting to pass. It must take days, if not weeks; nobody is moving.
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