Around January, I was invited by a guy I had met recently to join him on a road trip from South Africa to Kenya. He was, as he told me, planning to make the trip down with his father, to visit an old friend living in Johannesburg. At the time I had no preconceptions of what the trip would entail – a cross-continental road trip was something that sounded absolutely exhilarating to me, but I was apprehensive. Did I know this guy well enough? Surely this is something I should plan a bit more? What about my job? How much leave will I need to take? How much will this all cost?
All valid questions. And, if you know me, they were swimming around in my head for WEEKS, even right up until the time I was supposed to be booking flights. I was apprehensive about the concept of multiple border crossings, of being in a car for two-weeks (at least) with a guy I had, at that point, known for less than an month (what if we ran out of things to talk about? What if we decided three days in that we couldn’t stand each other and I had to take a flight back home, cutting the trip short with my tail between my legs?), as well as the fact that I had done so little planning for this such of trip that I almost didn’t know where to start. I didn’t even know what was WORTH SEEING in half of these countries, so what if we missed something spectacular along the way? Since the disintegration of my long term relationship in 2021, I hadn’t done ANY international travel with a partner – what if I had somehow transformed into some puddle of a human being, completely useless on the road, and bored the poor guy to tears so much that he regretted the whole thing?
As if inspired by divine intervention, one of my close girlfriends called me unexpectedly, as if she knew that I was getting in my head about it all.
“Jessica”, she said, “I know what you’re like, and I know if you end up thinking about it too much you’ll talk yourself out of it. Stop worrying so much and just enjoy it for what it is!”
She was, of course, right. As she often is.
And so, dear reader, this will be the beginning of a mini-series, about our 4,500km journey from Johannesburg, South Africa all the way up to Watamu, Kenya. Read on for piecemeal scribblings about Zimbabwe, Zambia, Tanzania (with some of our most memorable stops along way) back into my current home of Kenya.