A Two Week Overland Trip Through
Eswatini & Mozambique

Time for a bit of local flavour and sunny beaches..

Eswatini

During our half-time break back in Jo’burgh, we visited the Apartheid Museum, which inexplicably shares a grand entrance with a casino. Given the tensions, it was indeed a remarkable feat to have changed South Africa so dramatically with so little bloodshed. The nation owes much to Nelson Mandela and Bishop Desmond Tutu – two truly extraordinary men who once lived a few doors apart on the same Soweto street.

We have now kicked off our new trip through Eswatini and Mozambique. This time, we are going overland by truck. There is a mix of nations onboard – German, Swiss, English. We were drawn immediately to an Irish couple who, upon being first to the bar, claimed they have a national reputation to maintain.

Given our past trip, we are less looking for wildlife and more focussed on the people. As luck would have it, we were in town on the last day of a 6-day celebration that only occurs once every four years. This is when the King of Eswatini gets to choose a new bride (number 15), and all the females who have not had a child come to dance before him - topless. And not just women and girls from Eswatini. There were contingents from South Africa, Botswana, Mozambique and Lesotho. Tribal chiefs and important men wore serval skins (a stunning spotted cat), their large wobbling paunches and man boobs also on full display. They were embellished with replica spears and real sub-machine guns. As (white) guests, we procured a prime spot a few rows from the main events. They had been assigned to ‘parliamentarians’. Fabulous.

Random facts about Eswatini: Formerly known as Swaziland, it was renamed in 2018 to reflect its indigenous name, rather than the colonial. As late as 2003, the life expectancy in this vibrant kingdom was only 45. It is now 58. The King has banned mini-skirts.

Crossing the border between Eswatini and Mozambique was a truly African adventure. Firstly, we had to have photocopies of our passports and covid certificates, a truck manifest and a completed form which replicated all the information we had photocopied, plus a form that told our temperature (we must have our temperature taken regularly, which is a bit concerning as I must time my hot flushes so as not to appear feverish. Try explaining menopause to an African border guard). A dapperly attired border guard, with the all-important epaulets upon his shoulders, stared at each page for quite some time, before slowly and pedantically pointing out miniscule changes that had to be made on each form, one at a time. This took quite a while as there were nine of us each with multiple forms. During this process, a hatted AND epaulet-wearing guard had a quiet word with our guide. It would take an additional US$200 to process us. Our guide refused, and we were quickly informed that there was something wrong with the printer - it would be difficult to process us. We waited and watched as locals pushing laden wheel-barrows, along with small herds of free-range goats, move freely between the two countries. Eventually, we were summoned one at a time and told to hold still as we were photographed and finger-printed. If you saw that your passport was next to be processed, and foolishly approached the desk, you were sent back the 3 metres to the designated waiting area (with only 4 chairs), and told to wait until you were called - which happened as soon as you returned to said waiting area. A couple of hours passed this way, by which time some needed a bathroom. Except it was closed. At breaking point, we had to cross back into Eswatini to access a loo.

But wait, there is more.

One of our group was called to the photograph procedure twice (dark hair cut in a bob), and one was not called at all (blond ultra-short pixie cut). We pointed this out to the epaulet wearers (both hatted and non-hatted), but nothing happened. We waited again. We crossed back into Eswatini for the loo. We waited. There was much kafuffle in the back office. We waited. Eventually an angry guard wanted to know why one of us had presented twice and the other not at all. Guess we all look the same to them…and their computers. When they finally asked for our US $50 fee, we had a wee rush of confidence. Yet each and every note was carefully and slowly scrutinised by yet another epaulet-wearer, and some rejected. This dude took his job seriously! Fortunately, we were able to swap amongst ourselves to procure acceptable notes and did eventually gain our visas – at which point we all applauded loudly, much to the genuine astonishment of all epaulet wearers, hatted or otherwise.

After passing 40+ police checks (we were only stopped twice and refused to pay both times), we were greeted at our hotel by the manager, large glass of something in hand - a classic Brit gone tropo. “Welcome, welcome. Trust you have all had a marvellous day, what? Oh dear, not good at the border? I’m just having drinks with the Minister, shall have a word. Not good, not good at all! Brandies all round, I shall join you later.” He lifts his glass and flashes a cheery smile revealing shocking English teeth, offsetting his large bright red British hooter.

This part of the trip has been beachy and wonderful. Young men lurk in the sand, waiting for unsuspecting tourists to appear so they may peddle their wares. “Hello, hello. How are you? My name is [Tomato], [Mr. No Problem], [Lovemore] fill in the blank. Our guide chortled and announced in his baritone best, “theese betch boys rrreally have some crrrrazy names”. His name is Clever.

In Mozambique we stayed at a lodge owned by a kiwi! Turns out we came through Africa at about the same time (1986) and know many people in common. It is quite extraordinary how even before cell-phones, we managed to stay connected. There were so few of us whities coming through these parts then, and we really were a community.

WE SWAM WITH WHALE SHARKS.  Nuf said.

Back in SA (Kruger Park) and I am now getting advertisements for plus size safari gear and wondering how I managed to mess up the algorithm in that very particular way? It is so civilised here that it is hardly even Africa – although they still mop the floors during mealtimes, and it takes eight people (one doing and seven watching) to get anything done. Sigh…. it is an awesome continent.

Have been amused by a bloat of Americans clad from top to toe in beige pockets as they lardered down to the water hole to watch the animals. We heard them before we saw them. As in nature, they have their own (piercing) signature call - “Oh my god, did you have the soup at lunch?” Slow on the uptake, we watched three of them get zapped by the electric fence as they shouted warnings to one another. Brilliant.

We are leaving today. We will miss the non-draining showers, the incorrectly installed wobbly non-flushing loos, the randomness of which tap is hot (if either). We will miss being amazed by the weight of the suitcases, stuffed full of plus-size beige pockets and zip off pants, balanced on local women’s heads to be delivered to tents. We will miss the booming of the generator that wakes us randomly in the night when the power cuts out. It is a truly enchanting continent.

Our warmest to you all.

Steph and Tony

P.S. If you want to learn something truly bizarre, google the reproductive system of the spotted hyena. Glad I ain’t one!