Last June, before I came to South Africa, my two brothers and I trekked across four states in 12 hours for a family reunion weekend in Ohio with the awesome ol’ Nehrenz clan.

My cousins and I made a movie about the killer man-beast living in “Monsterberry Woods,” then we headed back to Oklahoma.

It was a great American road trip, something we can all relate to.

I never thought I would be comparing it with a road trip across most of southern Africa, but here we go.

Two weeks ago was Spring Break here. My roommate Hans and I took an 11-day trip across four countries in southern Africa, mainly by public bus.

We hit Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe and Malawi.

It was a bit more intense than the drive to Ohio.

Relaying the whole experience here is impossible, but I do plan to use you as test subjects for story material that I will exaggerate for my grandchildren.

This bus trip covered 1,600 miles of African soil and was relatively unplanned.

The goal was to visit three friends from Camp Lutherhoma in Oklahoma. These former camp staffers are now Peace Corps volunteers serving in Zambia and Malawi.

We started by traveling to Botswana by bus and then traversed the entire country in about 12 hours on two more buses.

We arrived at a border town to enter Zambia just as the border closed.

Picture the scene:

Mark and Hans, bearded white boys standing at a bus station, bags on shoulders and no idea where to stay the night (for the record, the “bus station” was the parking lot outside a rowdy bar on a Friday night, and our bus was the only one there).

Luckily, Hans made a friend on the bus while looking out the window at elephants. The man was a police officer traveling across the country to pick up a convict, planning to “public bus” him back across the country the next day.

Our new friend walked us around and found a lodge for the night.

After a special soup concoction — purchased from a gas station, prepared in the coffee maker and served in coffee cups — for dinner, we learned that our cop buddy needed help.

His contact for accommodation was not answering her phone and it was late.

So he spent the night on our floor.

It was a killer sleepover.

We watched a movie on TV called “Treehouse Hostage” starring the infamous Ernest of “Ernest Goes to Camp” and other award-winning films.

Before sleepytime, our friend showed us the handcuffs and leg irons he would use on the prisoner the following day.

At sunrise, we found the large border ferry broken. An enterprising fellow charged us a small fee to cross the Zambezi river on his motor boat.

I love Africa.

Our next two days were spent in Zambia seeing Victoria Falls, one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

All I can say is this: please, sometime during your life, visit Victoria Falls.

It is the most breathtaking wonder of nature I have ever seen.

We took pictures, pretended to fight on a cliff, had Hans play dead in a pool close to the edge, you know, what was expected of us.

The Zambia view was amazing, but we heard it was much better across the way in Zimbabwe.

So we forked over $30 for a temporary visa in Zimbabwe.

On our way across the massive border bridge, we did the world’s second highest bungee jump.

A Zimbabwean dude selling trinkets took pictures of the jump, managing to have his thumb over the lens on all shots, and wear out my battery before we made it to the Zimbabwen side of the falls, which was ten times better than the Zambian side.

Then he tried to use it to his favor.

“My friend, I was you camera man. I give you good price, copper bracelets, good gifts.”

For some reason I bought a few.

Guys like him are the flavor of Africa, and mzungus (white people) like Hans and I were constant targets.

Back in town, we ran into some more “businessmen” and bought a few black market 100 billion dollar bills from Zimbabwe.

Yes, they are real, and a massive stack won’t even buy a loaf of bread.

Our next few days took us across most of Zambia and we ended in a rural village sleeping under the stars next to a Peace Corps volunteer’s hut.

I woke up in the morning with a pig staring me in the face.

Then I had about 10 little kids shake Hans’ tent and scream “MZUNGU MZUNGU!” to wake him.

We spent the next few days in Malawi and then hopped on a plane to fly back to South Africa.

We flew through Zimbabwe just for the thrill, and I managed to lose my checked bag of dirty clothes, which is, eight days later, still “missing.”

That just makes it a better story for the grandkids:

“You see, Sonny, I had to bribe the dictator Robert Mugabe. He would only let me leave his country if I gave him my favorite t-shirt.”

It was the experience of a lifetime, and though it does motivate me to travel Africa more, it awakens an even stronger desire to travel America.

One time, my friends at OU took a spontaneous weekend trip to the Grand Canyon, and I missed out.

Never again.

I haven’t seen nearly enough of my own beautiful country.

Have you?

Mark Nehrenz is a journalism senior. His column usually appears every other Friday.