Livingstonia. Boda Boda

We left the Beaco at half past six with a packed breakfast and a driver called Tumaini, who told us it means Hope. Hope took us as far as the border. The border at Songwe is the most broken-down crossing I have seen, apart from one. Dusty shacks, long stretches of dirt track you cover on foot, everything provisional. It took us close to [...]