February 23. Guesthouse Goedehoop.

We leave Gaborone today, after a lazy morning and a warm goodbye to Sheldon and Gudrun. Up on the main road with thumbs in the air and some smiling policemen take care of us. Our remaining Pulas bring us neatly to the border. Stamping and re-entering the RSA is a whistle of a cent, but catching a ride down to Gauteng is a greater challenge.
“Good-day sir, we are looking for a ride but we are really on a budget here, so we’d ask you to do us a favor.”
-“A favor? No, thanks.”
Rather driving with an empty seat than giving a stranger you trust (since a payed lift would have been no problem) a helping hand. However many true and justifying sentences there are to describe what is going on in that driver’s mind, this does hold and is pretty ugly. Anyway, we walk into the North West province a bit and a speeding Volkswagen pulls over and rolls back towards us in a cloud of dust.
“He guys, jump in!”
Sean is doing about 3000 kilometers a week for his job, marketing copper cables and just like himself, the company is flying on the verge of the world cup. He comfortably does 160 km/h and we are in Zeerust in a wink.
“Just wait 15 minutes and you’ll find a ride to Joburg.”
After five hours we decide to crash in a guesthouse because it is getting dark. Goedehoop offers a comfortable room and a hot shower – we are first class hitchhikers after all.

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Published by

Kamiel Choi

Dutch philosopher and poet, sometimes sharing thoughts on the internet.

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