When I first began my travels in Southern Africa I had a very old moth-eaten Ford Cortina bakkie (pickup). The vehicle took a lot of amused comments from friends but I would ask them if their beautiful motors had ever driven to Katimo Mulilo. Of course the answer was no so I would smile and I am sure the bakkie gave a gentle cough!
On this particular trip I drove through Botswana to the Ngoma Gate border between that country and Namibia. Ahead of me were three huge brand new 4 x 4s carrying a number of large men. Fortunately I arrived at the border just in front of them as had nipped past them while they were watching elephants on the sand road through Chobe National Park in Botswana, and was processed into Namibia. My destination was Kaliso lodge on the banks of the Zambezi where I hoped to see flocks of carmine bee eaters flying in and out of their holes in the banks of the river.
I had not been there before and was sure that I would get stuck along the way, so my plan was to be ahead of the 4 x 4 group so that they could either dig me out or pull me out if I got stuck too badly with their up to date safari equipment. I duly got stuck and a local wandered by, stopping to help me get on my way. I arrived at the lodge and settled down with a beer in my hand watching the river. Some hours went by and I wandered what had delayed the other group. They finally arrived all having got stuck and they said they had had great difficulty in getting the vehicles out! Yet again my old Ford had come through valiantly!
The next day I took a boat trip down river. My guide and I anchored and watched the brilliant bee eaters as they busily flew in and out of their nests! The flash of carmine against the muddy bank and the constant chirping kept me clicking away with my camera. 
Returning to the lodge I had lunch and was approached by one of the waitresses. She asked me when I was due to leave. I replied that I would do so the next day. She then asked for a lift into Katimo Mulilo and promised to take me on a route that had firmer ground so that I would not get stuck. I willingly agreed.
We left early the next morning and as we drove along she bade me stop. Puzzled I did so. Two men hopped onto the back of the bakkie and she told me they just need a lift to the gravel road. Reaching this she extracted some money from them and beckoned to some other bystanders who scrambled aboard. The lady whose name I have forgotten, took fares from them too. All along the way to the town people hopped on and off. I was an involuntary taxi driver! Reaching Katima market place the lady got out, counted out the money and gave me my share that was greater than hers. My first and only stint as a taxi driver!
From Katimo the next day I was waved down by two young people. The guy wanted a lift to Popa Falls where he hoped to pick up a lift to Windhoek. The young lady was his girlfriend and they parted with big hugs and kisses. Together we set off along the Caprivi strip, the road bad, mostly sand that runs directly East to West and as the sun began to set I had it shining directly into my eyes! Hell watching out for animals being half blinded. Elephants and plains game wander backwards and forwards along this stretch. The young man, I forget his name, told me that his girlfriend had a two year sponsorship to try and come up with a method to keep elephants out of the villagers’ fields. So far she had managed to rig up a system of bells but of course the wily elephants worked out how to pull them down!
Along the strip quaint little shops appear with original names. I was amazed that one of them called itself Sarajevo. Obviously news of the tragedy unfolding there had even reached this remote spot! We finally reached Popa Falls, really a series of rapids on the Kavango River that rises in Angola and brings the flood into the Okavango delta each year. We camped and swopped tales over the fire and my fellow traveler was lucky enough to be offered a lift to Rundu the next day while I meandered down the western delta, stayed at Sepupa Swamp Stop for a night that my friend Tiaan Theron had built. At the time he had a barge there and we would putter along the river and its many channels anchoring for a night at one of the islands.
There is often a barbel run along this stretch of the river when the water churns with hundreds of fish and birds are thick in the air. It is truly a thing to see. The next day I headed for Maun where I ended up staying for several months!
Molly's Musings On Life And Travel 