Black holes suck things in. They are both rare and numerous in our very vast universe, but I have found my second one… Lusaka.
Leaving Flat Dogs we stayed one night at the “Dean’s Hill View Lodge” in Chipata. Here we discarded two back-packers from Slovenia to go on their way to neighbouring Malawi and a lower cost of living.
The road from Flat Dogs to Chipata was all pretty bad corrugated gravel and I am really tired from fighting with the again deteriorating VW accelerator pedal. I fall into bed at about 1600, only waking up to find Mari-Louise going to bed at 1930. I do not budge.
We wake up early the next morning (no kidding) and set off for Lusaka. My back starts to cramp from the pedal being as wobbly as a child’s soft toy and Mari-Louise takes over for the last half.
The road from Chipata to Lusaka has no gas stations and we have to stop to utilise our emergency jerry can of 20l of petrol. We pass a completely bashed up Hyundai Getz on the other side of a gigantic pothole with four passengers surprisingly unhurt. We leave them food and water and report their mishap to the nearest police control point (for the first time pleased to see one).
We reach Lusaka starving and head straight for the Ocean Basket, which we knew, from prior intelligence (thanks Anita), existed.
We finished lunch and find our campsite on the outskirts of Lusaka…Pioneer Campsite. 
Here is our plan for the next day:
- Get up pack
- Drop Mar-Louise at Shoprite to…..shop
- Pickup vehicle parts from DHL
- Leave for Kafue
This is what actually happened…
0900: Leave Pioneer Camp and head for town
0915: Drop Mar-Louise at Shoprite and continue to DHL office in centre of town
0940: Arrive at DHL and enquire about package sent from South-Africa. Get told that DHL only takes packages in from clients at this address and do not distribute from here. Apparently DHL delivers and if you have no permanent address you represent an anomaly to their business process. They check and inform me that my package has been latched onto by Customs. “Where is customs?”, I ask. “Next to DHL at the airport”, comes the answer.
0950: Despite not dispensing packages the DHL does a brilliant job of finding me change for one of their confusingly large denominations of currency, in order for me to release my vehicle from the paid parking next to Shoprite.
0951: I develop a suspicion that this day might not go 100% according to plan.
10:15 –> 11:15: Meet up with Mari-Louise and supervise shopping. Leave for DHL at the airport, which is annoyingly close (5 min drive) from where we started the day.
11:15 –> 11:30: I am informed by DHL that my package has attracted customs charges and furthermore that DHL is unable to get it from customs (something about a computer hold up due to some thing or another). So they have handed my package over to local agents. Charges? 39%
1131: Now pretty sure that earlier assessment is accurate.
1155: My agents have gone to register my bill of goods which gives me time to gather my thoughts. Upon their return, I decide to challenge these huge costs and walk to the Customs building with all 4 my agents in tow. I get to speak to what seemed like the second in command. I explain to the main that I am a tourist in Zambia who is simply trying to fix his vehicle, a VW, for which there are no local agents. The man seems to have some empathy with my situation and gives the papers a once over. He informs me that I attracted these costs because my total costs exceeded $500 by $16. Basically if you stay below $500 and the import is personal in nature no duties are attracted. He goes on to indicate that this is such a small amount the whole thing should be able to be reversed if I make a formal query. “Finally some common sense, I thought”, hoping naively that he is going to override whomever made their greedy scribble of a signature on my papers dooming it to customs. “Sorry no, this was signed by the station manager and only she can override it.”
“Where is she” I ask. “Next door” comes the answer, “but will only be back by two”.
“S#$%^&t”
1200 –> 1345: Listen to our Dune audiobook and eat our lunch sandwiches, which was supposes to be eaten somewhere close to Kafue park.
1350: I arrive at the station manager’s office only to find out that she is not coming back to the office. My ever helpful agents usher me into the cubicle of one of the customs officials and I take up the argument anew. This guy (lets call him John) informs me the the regulation exempting people from customs below $500 only applies to residents and since I am not a resident there is now way he could help. I direct John’s attention to a A4 announcement scattered amongst the many on the nearby notice board publically communicating the $500 limit regulation. “It says nothing about residents only” I say. At this John pulls out his memory stick and start searching for the regulation. (Memory stick, I know, but that’s another story). Having found it he happily scrolls to the relevant section and find to my amusement and his embarrassment that he is wrong. “Great, now all we have to do is get someone to ignore the $16 with which I over declared (3%)”, I thought. John turned his embarrassment into victory when pointing out that the $500 limit is not negotiable as “its stands here in black and white”. It was at this point which I pointed out that, according to the document title, the document was in draft and how could we really be sure of anything. I was sure I could win the ensuing he-said she said contest around the authenticity of the document, but reckoned that it would only be for my own amusement and would probably not help to get my package releases. So I appealed to John’s side of what is fair and right and … He informs me that I could take out an TIP (Temporary Import Permit) for my parts which would then relieve me from paying the 39% import costs. And for only 50000 Kwacha as opposed to 1 100 000 Kwacha tax, I was so relieved, that I had nothing sarcastic to say about why this is only mentioned now. “Where can I get the form
, I say. “Head office in town”, John says.
1430: Drive all the way back to town with Mari-Louise to arrive at the tallest building in town: "Revenue House". Parking is something right out of a nightmare and I leave Mari-Louise to navigate the parking lot while I see the assistant commissioner.
1445: After determining that the assistant commissioner is not at the office and will only we back by Wednesday (today is Monday), I finally got seated in front of an official, lets call him Peter. Peter calmly tells me that John has provided me with false information and that a TIP would cost much more, therefore making the option rather mute. Peter then informs me that there is a claims process which I could follow. This would obviously imply that I first pay the money and then get it back from SA via the post using whatever paper work nightmare was required. It would also involve me getting the guys at the border to check that I am taking out the parts, a procedure which I sincerely doubt they are familiar with. So I change tack and go back to the $16 over $500 issue. “Surely somebody must have the authority to authorise this”, I say. Peter calmly informs me that only the assistant commissioner could do that and that he will be back on Wednesday. If I was to come back on Wed…… AHHHH!!!!
“Peter, help me help you, so that you do not have to steal my money!”, I say. Silence.
“Fine just give me the claim form then”, I say. Resigned to go back and pay the money and get the hell out of Lusaka.
“Sorry, the guy that deals with claims, is not here at the moment” comes the answer.
1545: Thoroughly dejected I find Mari-Louise in the parking lot looking more uneasy than I would have expected. Turns out with all the parking gymnastic that she had to perform that the accelerator pedal has completely come apart, rendering the thing unable to apply any force on the cable. I leave anyway using equally impressive foot gymnastics to will the, now flying pedal, to my will. I realise that I really need these parts desperately and so we go back to the airport and customs.
1615: Arrive back at airport and give my agents the go-ahead to process the paper work. First I had to visit Johan again to play on his feeling to push us up the queue. This, to his credit, he willingly did. With my part in this done I retreat to the car to let my agents earn their money.
1715: Finally we have our parts!. I immediately fix the pedal to the cable and leave for … Pioneer camp. Immediately it becomes obvious that that cable is not returning properly prompting me to not temp fate any further. I decide to find a mechanic to fit the new cable the next day.
[Please note no photographs for the past day. We have come to recognise this as a sure sign of a crap day.]
The next morning we leave bright and early to find the 
Hensons’ also do 4X4 rentals. The vehicles have their registrations pop riveted into them to deter theft!
We spend most of the morning in a rather large, 
I find the bus at Hensons ready to go, so go we did.
This bumper bashing, due to a Taxi just taking off, did not even incite as much as a raised voice. Run of the mill, it seemed.
I realised that the whole accelerator assembly should have been changed long ago as now, for the first time, do I have proper accelerator control. I should have followed my gut on this back in Johannesburg, but I did not. A very expensive mistake. Maybe this can be the one big life lesson I return with. ALWAYS FOLLOW YOUR GUT, IT IS CHEAPER THAN THE ALTERNATIVE.
We leave for Kafue park on a perfect tar road and 
We are met by a cheerful crew at the Mayukuyuku camp on the banks of the Kafue river and quickly settle into a slothenly routine.
ciao, Carl-Hein
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment