October 17, 2014, Friday. It is 9:30 am and we have left the outskirts of Lusaka behind. We have now been told we can raise our windows and open our shutters. I'm still trying to figure out what that was all really about. I spent some time peering out of the crack at the top of a shutter and saw only smiling people, people shopping in the rundown bazaar, little cardboard stalls selling trinkets, tee shirts, food, people on their way to work. And slums, garbage heaps, the usual urban detritus enlivened by the circus atmosphere the passage of our train creates among the children. Are there really times when people throw rocks at the train? Or did they not want us to see the slums? But every city has those along the rail lines. Strange. 

Well, Lusaka is not a sleepy little town. It is the capitol of Zambia and its largest city, larger than Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.  John has just returned from the observation car to tell me that Gareth, the train manager, stood on the open platform at the very rear of the train where no passengers were allowed, armed with a realistic-looking paint gun to keep anyone from trying to climb aboard. Gareth is brilliant at his job, so I'm sure there is reason for his watchfulness. Nevertheless, if this were a movie, it would have to be a comedy. I'm sorry I was unable to photograph Lusaka.

This is what the outskirts of Lusaka looks like outside the city itself.

Our train!

October 16, 2014 Thursday.  We will be on board all day today, traveling through Zambia. The view looks a bit greener, dotted with many trees sporting new leaves in a rust red color that I suppose will turn green eventually. Again, the countryside alternates between grassy open savannah and lightly wooded areas. So far we have passed fewer little towns where every urchin in the place and many of their elders rush to the tracks to wave and smile and call out to us. I think to them we might as well be from the moon as we float by with our white faces and cameras at the windows of the train. Some of them beg, and yesterday a few misguided passengers apparently tossed candy to them, but then fights break out, so the train director issued a plea to desist. John saw one little boy who managed to climb an exterior train ladder and cling there for about twenty feet even after the train began to move. Most of them just gather at trackside, smiling and waving excitedly. Why are they so thrilled to see us? This isn’t the first time this train has passed by.  At only one point so far have we seen older children, maybe just out of school for the day, and some of those looked either sad or angry as we passed by. Who can blame them? Glimpses of our privileged lives must seem a stark contrast the the reality of their existence.. I asked if children here go to school and was told schooling is mandatory, but not always well enforced. Yesterday in the larger town where we boarded our buses I saw a decrepit building that was the local teachers college and another that was a secondary boarding school for boys. Do girls receive the same education or are they made to stop sooner? Most of the people we have seen seem happy, living together in lazy, rural poverty, but there is no way for us to know what life is like for them or for those we don't see running toward us as the most exciting thing in their lives for months on end. Previously, most of the places where the local people would rush to see us were tiny villages with only a dozen or so huts, but today in Zambia, many are larger towns. I would have predicted we would attract far less interest there, but no, we, the moon visitors, continue to fascinate. 

It is now 6pm and we are still becalmed in the town where the train was to be turned. Up until now, the observation car has been at the front of the train behind an engine and a fuel car, but from now on, the engine is supposed to be at the other end as it is should be. We are just a few cars from the observation car so it will be nice when the view from there improves. The downside will be that our compartment seating will now be backwards, which makes it much more difficult to take pictures as you can't see what's coming without twisting around. Meanwhile, none of that much matters since we haven't moved at all for over three hours.

LATER. I think we got underway around 8pm tonight. This must be normal because we are still within our window, they tell us. We have been warned that tomorrow morning around 8am we will stop in Lukasa, Zambia, where local children sometimes prefer hurling rocks at the train instead of smiles. We have been told to open our heavy shutters and then lower our glass window, then raise the shutters again until we are away from the town. Not exactly terrorists but certainly not the positive behavior we have enjoyed so far. 

October 15, 2014, Wednesday. We are now traveling through Zambia, again high country toward the end of its dry season. We are beginning to see fewer leafless trees. At the higher elevations, buds are appearing, then a few flowers, then new greenery, and the ground looks almost shiny from the train instead of dusty. In another month or so the rainy season will arrive, with drenching rains and bugs. We are lucky to be here now when it is sunny, sometimes with light clouds, and relatively cool considering our proximity to the equator. As ever, people rush from their villages to watch us pass by.

After lunch today we were treated to our first off-train excursion, a ride to Chishimba Falls aboard an African bus, which means that although it was comfortable, there was no air conditioning. Not at all bad, actually, as long as we were moving and the windows remained open. There were two buses, ours, which was larger, and a smaller one. We were stopped twice by uniformed guards and allowed to pass after a few minutes palaver, but the small bus was detained for 25 minutes until the driver forked over some cash. Along the way we passed signs denouncing corruption. This was apparently a real life example of graft at work.

We arrived at the falls and hiked up a wooded path, dirt, roots, some larger stones, bordered by a stone edging. I was way ahead because John becomes irritable if I wait for him when he is reconnoitering. Apparently he fell but not badly. Eventually he caught up with me at the falls itself, where the going became rougher and you had to take much more care on the steps or root-filled side paths. Somehow he lost his balance and then, trying to save himself from falling, put his foot down on a border stone which was loose, rolled over, and took him along with it. He wasn't hurt, thank goodness, except his pride, but it's a good thing we can have things laundered on the train. After that, we stuck pretty close together and agreed we wished we had packed one of our collapsible hiking sticks for him. We must remember that for future travels!

The falls were pretty, not spectacular, and could be viewed from two widely separated locations. Eventually, all seventy of us from the train ended up sitting around on plastic chairs in the shelter of several large shade trees, sipping everything from water to beer to wine to gin and tonic and enjoying a peaceful African afternoon off the train. Most of us were ready to leave a bit sooner than the bus got underway, but we arrived back at the train just after sunset, in time to shower and enjoy a rare casual dinner with no coats and ties required.