On a self-drive tour of Africa you can’t spend all day spotting birds and taking pictures. Some days you spend crossing borders, chatting with crabby traffic officials and dodging potholes. Villiers Steyn and J.I. de Wet are tested to the extreme on the third shift of their trip to the Serengeti.

So far, Villiers and J.I.’s 70-day trip to the Serengeti has gone without serious incident. The second shift through eastern Botswana and Zimbabwe was filled with game and adrenalin.

But Africa isn’t just moonlight, roses, fishing expeditions and lazy prides of lions. 

In Zambia and Tanzania they nearly had their comeuppance - its called corruption. And en route they had to drive through and around a few potholes.

From Victoria Falls through Zambia to Morogoro, Tanzania (6 days, 2403 km)

Day 13

Show me the money

It’s just after eight and it feels as if Schalk Burger used my body as a tackle bag yesterday. The white-water rafting has put us through the mill. But sore chests are not our only problem.

On the Zambian side of the Victoria Falls border post an unfriendly official refuses to accept American dollars as payment for carbon tax - this after his two friendlier colleagues had no problem when we paid the road tax and third-party insurance in US dollars.

The only place where we’ll get Zambian kwacha now, is from the dodgy money changers in the parking area, but we’re afraid we might land in jail if we change dollars here on the border. In desperation we convince one of the friendlier officials to do it for us.

“Hmm, I see you’ve made a quick visit to the local bank,” Old Grumpy remarks, having finally developed a sense of humour when we pay the carbon tax in kwacha.

“TIA, my friend, TIA,” J.I. reminds me as we walk back to the car. Indeed, This is Africa, and we have to get used to it that this is not a simple little jaunt down to Cape Town.

Eight hours later, near Lusaka, Africa deals us another blow, this time below the belt. I’m pulled over for speeding – 73 km/h in a 65 zone – and that after I’ve made doubly sure I stayed within the speed limit. Of course the traffic official has already erased my reading from his camera. Now it’s my word against his.

“You can either pay cash now or go and defend yourself in court tomorrow,” a woman explains from the back seat of an air-conditioned BMW that she has turned into her “office”. Forty-five American dollars and a few silent swear words later, we push on.