Instead of taking 48 hours to travel from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania to Kapiri Mposhi, Zambia, it took 88 hours. This means that we got on the train on Friday and didn’t get off of it until Tuesday.

Just to repeat - that means we spent FIVE DAYS on the train. So how do Zambian passengers react when they are made to wait endlessly with no information?

There were no screams at the counter people, no demands for hotel rooms, refunds, or bus transfers. Everyone was calm, quietly milling about the platform to stretch their legs, or talking in small groups. There seemed only a sense of inevitablilty about them. There was nothing to be done, so why fight?

During the second delay (lasted 27 hours in Mpika), over 450 people placidly stood inside the train station to watch a soccer match on a single 27 inch TV.

Each delay came as a surprise. We would pull into a station, and then, because we didn’t know the schedule or how long they were supposed to be at the station, the train would simply not move. There were no announcements, no one coming by to let passengers know that there was a delay. No one, absolutely no one, had any idea what was going on. And they seemed completely unworried about it. The radio was down, and cell phone calls were left unanswered. There was nothing to do, so why be unhappy about it now?

None of the staff would commit to knowing how long the train was delayed. The most we could get out of them was “I don’t know”, and “hopefully soon”, as nervous as if we would go and beat them with sticks if they were wrong.

So how did Jonathan and I react, usually typically American in our responses to travel delays?

We had a great time.

A short list why:

1. We had nowhere to be, no one to meet, and no set time to get there. A surreal experience all in itself.

2. We had a first class sleeper compartment. Although hardly the luxury experience found in Europe, compared with third class (which even the Zambia tourism website advises that no one take, consisting of a seat on a hard bench), it was paradise.

3. I watched Jonathan as he took amazing portraits of the Zambian kids, which meet the train and play by the railway tracks.

4. We met some interesting people. Met a Zambian, Tommy Silweya, whom when I told that I come from a large family with 5 brothers, replied “Five? You call that large?” He, of course, has TWENTY siblings, all from the same mother and father. We challenged him to name all his siblings, of which he got 10, and then started to falter. We met two American girls (Kim and Kristen) traveling down from Cairo, who first had their luggage stolen out of their hostel room while they were asleep in Dar, and then the next day, after replacing their passports, were mugged by their taxi driver! We also met 6 South Africans, recently graduated from college, and heard their grumblings about white flight and affirmative action (called something else in SA).

5. Bought fresh mangos through the train window from a boy carrying a basket on his head for $0.15. Completed the meal with fried dough and some boiled eggs.

6. Got to sit and do nothing but watch the beautiful countryside whiz by and finish 2 novels.


7. Was specifically given a 2006 Tazara (Tanzania Zambia Railways) calendar, which featured the picutres of the past and current presidents of Tanzania, with, of course, Mao Tse Tung!?. I had no idea, but evidently in the 60’s, China helped Tanzania develop a rail system and to learn to plant rice. As a result, the trains have Chinese signs, and we whized by countryside with locals working in rice paddies.

After 5 days though, we were ready to get off. However, our final destination was the Zambian capital of Lusaka, 2 hours away by bus. My patience had begun to really had it. Met at the train station by a fleet of hawkers and minibuses, we were crammed into a minibus with 15 people and all their luggage, only to sit for two hours in the 90 degree direct sun waiting to get 5 more passengers for a full bus.

It was so full that when Jonathan needed to get out of the bus to check on our luggage in the back, it was easier for him to climb out the window and jump down than to try to clear the aisle and climb over people to get to the door.

Four hours passed with me crammed against the window with my backpack on my lap and trying not to be touched by the old man next to me, who was reciting the names of drinks (”Johnny Walker Red, Johnny Walker Blue label, on the rocks!”).

We arrived in Lusaka in pretty rough shape. We couldn’t stomach shelling out $250/night at the Intercontinental, so we checked into a backpacker hostel…shared bathrooms, single beds, undergoing construction…ugh. But too tired and beaten to find somewhere else.

We quickly got ourselves showered and to a mall. There is nothing like an air conditioned internet cafe, a movie and popcorn to perk one up.