The prettiest border crossing I’ve seen is the Kazungula crossing into Zambia.
On the Botswana side, we took a morning drive through game reserves on the way to the border. The sealed road soaks up the daytime heat; and, during the night, animals will lay out to enjoy its warm surface. Their rest is finally broken by the sound of a horn— our horns.
It’s hard to describe how bizarre it is, watching a family of giraffe run for their lives from a bus. They scramble sideways, necks leaning precipitously. And, the only side of their radial herbivore eyes you can see are wide-open in fear.
Botswana passport control and customs are painless. You fill out a short form; and, start walking into savannah that stretches to the horizon. But, after less than a kilometre, a glistening river appears out of nowhere.
I’m used to mountain rivers. They’re fast, loud and found in valleys. But, the Zambezi river is 400 metres of flat, silent and blue water.
Excepting the muffled sound of the pontoon boats, slowly ferrying cars and passengers, the shores are silent.
It’s nice.
