We had coffee and rusks in camp the next morning, packed up and were on the road by 9am, as usual. Brunch was at Wimpy in Francistown.
We were looking forward to getting home, as we always do after a holiday. We would be sleeping over at Marakele National Park before the last stretch of our journey the next day.
Somewhere between Francistown and Palapye Roger got very drowsy so I took over driving duty for a while. Up till then the speed limit regularly changed from 120kph to 80kph as we passed small settlements and villages along the way, and then it would go back to 120kph again.
I passed an 80kph sign and slowed down obediently. Then I drove, and drove, and drove some more. The road was wide, clear and very well maintained. It was so boring that it became mesmerizing. When eventually I tired of the slow speed I thought that I must have missed the 120kph sign while I was daydreaming. I had no sooner increased speed when a car approached from the opposite direction, flashing lights at me. There was no other vehicle in sight. I paid no attention until they made a U-turn, came alongside and indicated I had to pull over. They were traffic officers in an unmarked car! Roger was lying flat on the seat beside me so obviously they hadn’t noticed him. I sat and waited for the officer to come to my window, the way they do it in SA. But he just leaned out of his window while he beckoned and called for me to go to him. I pretended not to notice. In the meantime, Roger woke up. When he realised what was happening he got out and went up to their car, much to their surprise. They showed him that I was doing 91 in an 80 zone. He had to pay a cash fine of P320.
Roger: ‘We have no cash. We are about to cross the border and gave our last P5 to the petrol pump attendant in Francistown. But I can give you a credit card as long as you give me a receipt.’
Officer: ‘I don’t have a card machine or a book’.
Roger: ‘Well, then we have a problem, don’t we?’
The officer was not happy. Both of them were still sitting in their vehicle, getting more agitated by the minute. I then had to present my driver’s license. He was very aggressive and intimidating and could hardly contain himself to not shout. He told me that he would let me off that time but that I should be more vigilant and obey the traffic rules, etc.
If I compare their conduct to our first encounter with Botswana traffic police, who were courteous, professional and well equipped, I seriously wonder about the motives of those two!
We were very happy to see the bridge over the Limpopo River. But, we were running late and I could not see how we would get to Marakele before the gate closed. We still had to get through border control.
The border control officers on both sides (Martin’s Drift and Groblersbrug) were, thankfully, friendly and efficient and we were on the road again fairly quickly. But time was ticking away. So we decided to consult the map and take a short cut to the gate.
It was a very rutted gravel road and Roger was going as fast as he could. The noise over the corrugations was so loud that it was impossible to hear each other inside the car. Then it started getting very hot inside the car but we had no time to investigate. We had to make it to the gate! We later discovered that the aircon belt had come off its pulley. Luckily the broken belt caused no further damage.
We got to the Marakele Gate at exactly 5:30pm. It was closing time. The guard was already swinging the gates and getting the padlocks ready. I saw movement in the office and jumped out to go and ask if they would still let us in.
The answer was ‘No, we are not allowed to. The gate is closing and I have just cashed up.’
I struggled to contain the tears that were threatening to spill over. I was tired and the tension of getting here was just too much. She must have seen it and disappeared into the back office where I could hear a discussion between her and her supervisor. After a minute or so she reappeared and said they would make an exception. Our receipt was stamped at 5:40pm and we were let in. What a relief, and a big ‘thank you’ to the very friendly and sympathetic ladies at the reception desk.
As we drove to the Bontle campsite calm descended over both of us, as it always does when we enter a National Park.
We had a lovely evening and a restful night.
We got home safe and sound in the late afternoon on the 16th August.
It was a good holiday. But, as always, it was good to be home…