How a Quest for Adventure Became an Urban Odyssey (and a Vegetable Delivery)
We departed Ndola at sunrise, full of optimism and snacks, bound for Kafue National Park. Our route would take us through Lusaka—a city we had already survived once before—and, as fate would have it, we were about to face the chaos of Lusaka all over again. Traffic, noise, confusion… and eventually a lodge that boasted glowing TripAdvisor reviews but delivered far less: no Wi‑Fi unless you were a VIP, extra towels for a fee, and an air conditioner that was more decorative than functional. Little did we know, this was only the warm‑up act for what awaited us on the road.
The next morning, we began what should have been a simple three‑and‑a‑half‑hour drive from Lusaka to Kafue. Instead, it morphed into an eight‑hour odyssey through markets, villages, and potholes so deep they deserved their own postal codes. Google Maps, in all its confidence, had us weaving through bustling streets, dodging vendors, goats, and a surprising amount of roadside excitement. It felt less like a road trip and more like an urban safari.
Our loyal “pimp mobile” rose to the challenge, reinventing itself with every obstacle. One moment it floated over muddy craters like a hovercraft, the next it plunged through flooded dips like a determined submarine, and occasionally it took on the personality of a war machine battling for survival. Every twist and turn reminded us that we weren’t alone—countless drivers around us were wrestling with the same tangled roads and unpredictable traffic patterns, all sharing the universal struggle of simply trying to get somewhere in one piece.
After too many wrong turns and a growing distrust of technology, we ditched Google’s advice and trusted our instincts. That’s when we stumbled onto a little‑known toll road—unmapped, quiet, and blissfully smooth. Just like that, the journey began to redeem itself.
But the adventure had actually begun even earlier, when our next lodge called with a surprise: thanks to heavy rains, we’d need to leave our car at the gate (for a fee, naturally) and deliver a “special package” on the way—a sack of vegetables. Our safari had suddenly doubled as a supply route. So much for all‑inclusive.
By the time we neared the park, tensions were high—spotty reception, no bathroom in sight, and a bladder situation that could have qualified as an emergency. When we finally arrived, the lodge staff greeted us warmly, eager to whisk away our luggage. Park officials, meanwhile, explained that elephants sometimes trampled unattended vehicles and insisted that the safest option was for them to keep our car keys.
Their concern was touching—but our instincts suggested a different possibility: that our vehicle might spend the next ten days doubling as a local taxi service. After a quick risk assessment—rogue elephants versus unexpected shuttle duty—we decided to bet on the elephants and politely kept our keys.
And just like that, our urban safari came to an end. The potholes, markets, and vegetable‑delivery detours were behind us. Ahead lay the true wilderness—where our real wildlife adventures were finally about to begin.
Stay tuned… the next episode is where the real adventure unfolds.
