It has come to be one area that provides testimony to the fact that Botswana continues to be one of the supply centres of the Southern African Development Community (SADC) region.
This place has also come to be perceived as a central meeting place of people of various nationalities en route to mostly Zambia and sometimes Zimbabwe. On a daily basis, men and women can be found at this spot with their luggage that include commodities such as microwaves, television sets, home theatres and DVDs. There are also foodstuffs nicely packed in boxes of various shapes and sizes, a sign that their owners had come on a shopping spree. Truck drivers, mostly from Botswana, Zambia and South Africa, also rest at this spot.
This jaunt has also come to be regarded as 'The Zambian Hiking Spot' due to the high number of Zambians usually found at this point.
It is 1930 hours and it has been raining. I decide to pay this popular spot a visit. It is chilly and the rain has not stopped completely as there is still a drizzle.
On arrival, I find about 15 of my Zambian brothers and sisters. They are literally wedged between their large bags and boxes in a bid to minimise the impact of the biting cold weather. My sudden appearance disturbs their otherwise peaceful rest. Immediately, two muscular young men confront me.
"Can we help you sir?" one of them asks in a deep voice. I have to respond quickly lest I suffer unpleasant consequences. I promptly explain to them who I was. Luckily, they are a very understanding type. We shake hands and I am warmly welcomed into this 'Zambian territory'.
One by one they are waking up to come and join in the conversation with my newly acquired friends. They take me through their experiences of shopping in Botswana. They also disclose various reasons why they have picked on Botswana as their shopping destination of choice.
The 36-year-old Dennis Chatungwa from Maamba in the Southern Province of Zambia asserts: "We are mostly attracted by the peace and stability that reigns in this country. The crime rate is relatively low. We mostly come here to buy household goods such as television sets, home theatres and blankets. They are a bit cheaper in Botswana." A number of other household items are littered all over the place as well.
Chatungwa explains that some of them are business people in Zambia and have come to get fresh stock to sell back home. "I am running a hardware shop and a clothing boutique. Botswana shops have proved to be my main suppliers, hence my coming to this side (of the Zambezi River) to buy," he clarifies confidently.
Fellow traveller and 45-year-old Grace Zulu of Livingstone, echoes those sentiments.
"As traders in our country, we rely heavily on Botswana suppliers as they never run short of goods, which is why we will always come to get supplies from here," she says assertively.
As we are busy chatting, a group of about four men and two women arrives. They also join their fellow countrymen. Within minutes the new arrivals have already settled down. They have fitted into the group like a glove. It is as if they had known one another for a long time. I am a bit puzzled by this and as if she were reading my mind, 58-year-old Mary Banda suddenly explains, " Patriotism is one thing that sees us through whatever challenges we come across when we are on this side. We treat each other and one another as brothers and sisters regardless of our different places of origin back home."
After a lengthy conversation, three young men are sent to go and buy "papa and braai" from a nearby restaurant. Within minutes, they are back. I am invited to join in this communal spirit as we descend upon the "papa and braai" like vultures upon a carcass.
The black cloud that has been hovering over our heads is readying itself to bring a few more drops. I am feeling pity for my newly found friends. " Do you have any accommodation should it start raining?" I ask as I chew a piece of meat. Zulu explains that there is a place where they usually spend nights whenever they fail to get transport to Kazungula en route to Livingstone and beyond.
"There is one house where we usually sleep. We pay P20 each per night for the accommodation and hot water that we are given in the morning," she explains. Her misgiving about this place is the issue of overcrowding. "Usually 10 to 12 people are forced to share a small room," she complains.
As we are chatting, their attention is on the cars that are passing-by. The desire to get back home has not vanished despite the fact that it is already late. To them, that is no reason they can not keep on trying to get a lift. They are optimistic that they will eventually get one so they could get back to the comfort of their homes.
" The other problem that we face here is that there are no public toilets," complains the 33-year-old John Sikufweba of Livingstone. He points to the nearby council rubbish bin as the only place they can use to relieve themselves. " The only thing that we can do here successfully is to just piss and nothing more," Sikufweba philosophises.
He goes on to suggest that, "the council or any business person should be able to see a business opportunity in the midst of our suffering. They should build some sort of arrival station, which will be used by people who travel at night like us. That will, indeed, help us a lot and it will also be a source of income as people come here on a daily basis."
Banda suggests another possible solution to their woes. She decries the fact that there is generally poor public transport between Zambia and Botswana. "Locals should think of operating mini-delivery trucks that will be running between the two countries. They might just take us as far as Kazungula border post. That would help those of us who often come to buy goods for our businesses," she suggests excitedly as she is busy counting money in her purse.
All hell breaks loose as two trucks suddenly arrive. It is now a question of survival-of-the-fittest. The pushing and shoving that has ensued will require someone to have been to the gym a few times before coming to try his or her luck in this game. They are fighting for the doors of the two trucks. These two trucks are temporarily under siege.
After a few minutes, the trucks stop and one by one my friends come back with sadness written all over their faces. One can tell from their slow paces that they are disappointed. The drivers will not leave until early in the morning. Besides that there is no space in the trucks.
We continue our discussions about various socio- economic issues. Another truck arrives. This time it is a ladies' affair. With their hands on their waists, supporting the blankets that they have wrapped themselves in, they 'attack' the incoming truck. There is a space for only one passenger. After a long and heated debate to determine who should get the available spot, they resolve to give it to the oldest of them. Banda is the beneficiary of the consensus. In no time she is on the truck and waving to salute her countrymen for the love and understanding that they have just demonstrated.
A glimpse at my watch registers 2145hrs. I decide to say good-bye to my friends. I wish them good luck. I am however a bit worried about the possibility of heavy rains coming down. I say a silent prayer for them as I leave.
