July 2017 | 55
one elaborate night , we even cooked ourselves our very own Braai . We had sausages and pork chops with some avocado thrown on for good measure .
Now that we are stepping out into Botswana where there are less people than elephants , I ’ m looking forward to seeing what culinary expertise Johnno has in store for us , and if Charlie will try his hand at cooking for the first time in 20 days !
What we have learnt :
• Africa can be cold . Really cold .
• Always think you have another 10km to go , even when your day is about to end !
• Theo loves chocolate .
• Brakes are no longer in our control .
• Flat land is much faster than mountains .
• Charlie shouldn ’ t go into insurance .
• Local advice is not synonymous with accurate directions . Always gain a second and third opinion .
• Beware of Sargent Major Johnston in the morning .
• Brookes leather saddles are actually the one .
• My bottom hurts . A lot . But not as much as Charlie ’ s .
“ Welcome to our country of Botswana ”
Will Johnston
After nine days of continuous riding , we ’ ve arrived in Francistown . Francistown is the second largest city in Botswana and is a bustling metropolis compared to the terrain of the last three weeks . We ’ ve now covered over 1,000km and a lot has changed since leaving South Africa .
The South Africa we saw from our bikes was one of two very different realities . On the one hand , were the vast expanses of farmland , regularly interrupted by the electrified fences of game parks , national parks and conservation areas . Somewhere squashed in the middle of this were the cramped townships somehow coexisting in the same country but in a very different universe .
Botswana feels entirely different .
Trucks lined both sides of the road for miles before the border crossing . Their cargo visible and for once not rattling past us in a blur of fumes and noise . We saw tarred tree trunks piled up in the cargo bays to be used
The roadside in Botswana is flat , straight and teeming with life . It ’ s a social scene fit for any sitcom . Goats , cows , donkeys , families and groups of children dominate the road close to the villages .
The villages mainly consist of modest one or two room dwellings , each with a small well-kept yard . The houses are usually fashioned from a combination of wood , straw , mud , tin and concrete .
There ’ s a sense of national pride amongst the Batswana that is rivalled only by our compatriots in the USA . The blue , black and white of Botswana adorns the bus shelters , bus stops , bollards and community centres of every town and village . The people here seem at ease . They take things at their own pace and the sense of distrust of strangers in South Africa is gone .
Time itself seems to have a very different meaning here compared with Europe and the West . We ’ ve all been reading a book called ‘ The Rising Sun ’ by a former correspondent of the Times in Africa and his example of getting a bus from Kampala to Nairobi is a great way to describe the different perception of time in Africa :
“ When will the bus leave ?”
“ What do you mean , when ? It will leave when we find enough people to fill it up .”
Our sleeping arrangements on our first night in Botswana were decided on similar logic .
It was pouring with rain , our clothes were sodden and we ’ d just rolled into a small village called Lerala . Low on money and desperate not to spend another night in tents , we decided it was time to try our luck with the local hospitality and go through the tribal hierarchy for a place to stay .
We asked the first person we came across if he could point us in the direction of the chief of the village . We followed him over to a white-washed house with several columns ( which we ’ ve noticed seem to denote prestige everywhere we ’ ve been ). Unfortunately , the chief wasn ’ t about , but after a lengthy conversation with him on the phone we had his blessing to seek further approval from the ‘ head-man ’ of this particular area of the village .
Twenty minutes later and another phone call down the line , our man disappeared off to the head-man ’ s house to continue proceedings .
The fact that he ’ d put his whole day on hold for us is just not something that I envisage happening at home . as telegraph polls , truckers cooking up their lunch and every onlooker having something to say about us as we whizzed by , excited for the next chapter .
Another half an hour later and with a new friend in the form of an interested passer-by ( the vice principal of the local school , Mr Rahthdkwnake ), we got a call saying that two of us should come to the house and speak to