Zambia

Before the Great East Highway was built, the land from the Malawi border to the Zambian capital of  Lusaka must have been utterly remote. The scenery stretches out to eternity in every direction.  Rolling hills smothered in trees and bushes growing out of carmine soil. 

The colours are to die for. Every conceivable shade of red, green, yellow and brown. And although the individual trees are substantial, the landscape is so vast that each one becomes just a smear of colour. If the impressionists had come to Zambia instead of the South of France they would have given up  - recognising that Mother Nature had beaten them to it and in a manner they could never match. 

But the remoteness of this region is hard on the people who live here. Now the villages really are straw huts. The children are ragged and the motorbikes and Tuk Tuks have gone. It’s often said that you can tell a man by his shoes. Here they have none. I stopped taking photos as it no longer felt appropriate. Bizarrely, in the middle of all this is a petrol station that takes credit cards - the first of the trip. 

About 30km outside Lusaka there’s a toll gate on the road. Everything changes past this point. Now there are modern warehouses, factories and recognisable shops. There are expensive cars on the streets and - hallelujah! - the Radisson Blu Hotel, with a swimming pool and hot and cold running four star luxury. 

We’ve seen a lot of different ways of living today but right now the one that appeals includes a hot shower and a bottle of red wine.