I took a bus from Malawi to Zimbabwe

After spending three amazing months in Malawi, which is fondly known as The Warm Heart of Africa, I made my way to the neighbouring Zimbabwe.

I have a number of Zim friends and have been looking forward to visiting that country for years. As someone, who follows Zimbabwean politics and have consumed quite a bit of their literature, I have always had a soft spot for Mzilikazi’s country.

So I booked with Trip Trans for MK38,000. The bus left Blantyre at 6:30am. We were scheduled to arrive in Harare around 6:30pm that evening. I was a bit sad to be living Malawi with some of the kindest people I’ve ever met, but I am always seeking new adventures!

The bus few minutes before leaving the station.

The bus which was in a good condition wasn’t full. I had chosen a window seat and luckily for me, the next seat was empty. So I had plenty of space.

By 9:30am, we were at the Zimbabwean border. I made my way to immigration feeling relaxed as I had triple checked the entry requirements before making the booking. I had fallen behind from the fellow passengers as I had to go back to the bus to fetch my Covid-19 vaccination certificate which I had forgotten in my backpack.

As I was getting close to the office, two guys approached me and asked for MK5000 in order for my Covid-19 vaccination certificate to be “scanned”.
“Scanned for what? And why should I have to pay for that?” I asked puzzled. They said that’s how it worked.

I had to pass through a Covid desk and that’s where the “scanning” happened. I could see the desk which was next to the building. I went over to ask about the pricey “scanning.”

A guy with a white coat behind the tiny desk answered me with irritation in his voice: “The two guys you were talking to over there will take your certificate to be scanned.”

I was still not convinced. I felt they were pulling a fast one on me. I caught up with some people from the bus. They told me they all had to pay.
I was the last one in line. I knew there was no “scanning” but I needed a signature from the Covid-19 desk before I could go any further.

I grudgingly went back to the two guys and told them I only had MK2000. One protested saying it was too little, but the other said: “Give it to me. But make sure no one sees you. Put it in the card.”

I obliged. Next thing the tall one took out the immigration questionnaire and started filling it in for me. I asked him to hand it over and did it myself. Instead of going to “scan” my certificate, he gave it to me and ushered me the Covid-19 desk while they disappeared. The guy behind the desk just ticked next to my name and asked me to sign. I was then allowed to get inside the office.

By now, all the other passengers were done. The conductor was hovering in the background as he was waiting for me to finish.

Inside the building, the immigration officer didn’t even look at my Covid-19 vaccination certificate which I was told needed to be scanned, but wasn’t. Instead I was questioned about the reason for my visit.

A second officer came over and asked, “How long will you be staying? Do you know anyone here? Are you aware that you are not allowed to work during your stay in Zimbabwe?”

I assured him that I had no intention of working in his country. “I just want to check it out for two weeks before going home,” I said.

I was taken aback by this interaction. I just wanted to get my passport stamped so we could get going. But I couldn’t appear impatient or annoyed as immigration officials hold all the power in that moment, and boy, do they know it!

Eventually, my passport was stamped. I didn’t check it. I dashed to the door. As I was about to reach the bus, I heard someone call my name. I turned around and it was an immigration officer. I started freaking out thinking they had changed their minds about letting me enter their country.

I approached him with my heart beating so fast and my head imagining the worst case scenario. He took my passport without saying anything. I saw him scrapping something before stamping it again. He then gave it back to me. This time I checked it. I saw initially I was given three days and he had changed it to three weeks.

I went to the bus. I got in and lo and behold the two “scanner” guys were on the bus selling Sim cards! “Sim cards for R50 each,” they chanted.

I was so angry at what they had done so I confront them. “I see you’re done with the imaginary scanner. You now are selling Sim cards!”
The tall one quickly made his exit. I blocked the short one. I demanded answers. I was so pissed at being taken advantage of just as I arrived in Zimbabwe. I hated that my first impression of Zim was their little criminality!

“My sister, please, you can go and speak to the doctor at the desk if you have any questions,” he said.
“Oh please, man isn’t a doctor. I just want you to admit that you are running a little scam here. There’s no MK5,000 scan. You are just making money from travellers!” I shouted at him.
“No sister, we are just following the rules,” he pleaded.
“Don’t lie. First of all, you too are not wearing any uniform so you are just running a little criminal activity with that guy at the Covid-19 desk,” I told him.
He was tired of the back and forth. He finally admitted, “Yes, you’re right.”
And he quickly dashed past me and I took my seat. I knew I was not going to get my money back, but it was about them admitting they were skelms!

The bus driver turned on the ignition and we were on our way. The road was in good condition. I was enjoying the ride while sipping on mango juice.

I started dozing off. I woke up as the bus was slowing down. It stopped. I saw people getting out. I followed thinking it was a quick stop so people could stretch their legs.

When I got outside, it turned out that there was a puncture. I had not heard anything. It looked serious so we had to wait as they tried to change it.

It was sunset. I walked around, snapping the beautiful sunset. I love sunset pictures. I was bummed about the puncture, but I was happy to be in Zimbabwe. Nothing was going to dampen my mood.

It took a couple of guys and two hours to get it out!

Two hours later, they had managed to change the tyre. We were ordered back into the bus and continued with the journey. We arrived in Harare after 8pm. I couldn’t see much as it was dark, but I was grateful for travel mercies as we disembarked after 13 hours of travel.