CHAPTER 30 - ZIMBABWE

 

-top

 

Exchange rate 37.5 Zimbabwean dollars to US$1

 

 

Th 10/14/99 - Chalala, Zimbabwe (continued)

 

We finally arrived Kariba Breezes Marina at 505pm and I searched the quiet marina frantically for Ralph and Ann. I inquired at the marina desk and was told that Ralph and Ann had called, saying that they would arrive at 530p to meet us. With relief after the long and burdensome trek, we sat with a couple of cold drinks and relaxed and waited.

 

I hadn't seen the Cheesman's in eight and a half years, I was anxious to see how this family in the wilds of Africa was growing. The children, Shawn and Shea, were five and seven years old in 1991, and along with Shawn's friend Phillip I watched the children play and listened with great curiosity to stories of the family's life in the small and remote village of Chalala on the shore of Lake Lariba.

 

A pickup pulled into the marina and drove straight to a boat ramp fifty meters from us and there I met the Cheesman's again. Ralph and Ann had drove to Harare to fetch Shawn and Shea, now grown into young adults, from their boarding school for a long weekend. Robyn and I helped load the small white speedboat. Across the small inlet near the water an elephant tore and ripped at a tree, and I noticed the kids also stopping and pointing and watching. They had missed and still appreciated their home at the lake and the wildlife afforded by it.

 

The sun was now set and we motored quickly toward the red glow on the horizon. The colors shimmered over the dark lake and the sky above turned a dark blue, we whizzed by Rhino and Long Island and into the huge open lake. After twenty minutes the smooth water gave way to chop and the boat banged along. A crescent moon, the lower third full, lit the sky from above us, and the sunset settled into dark. Across the lake we passed by Elephant Point in Matusadona National Park, Bumi Bay and by Bumi Hills, Starvation Island, and Lubangwa Island. On calm days the boat ride from Kariba to Chalala takes an hour and ten minutes, tonight was a little longer. Ralph then swooped south into Chalala Lagoon and to their pretty property on the waterside.

 

The Chessman's dogs, Scallywags and Nula, were panting with excitement and jumped up to greet us. The offer for a bath was taken immediately, and afterward Robyn and I both commented on the quantity of bus dirt entrenched in our hair - muddy water ran into the drain.

 

It was wonderful to see the family again. The quiet children's politeness and courtesy reminded me we were seeing a different culture. Over dinner in a downstairs dining area, the family discussed school, friends, and what was on for the long weekend. We exchanged stories of my friends Ian (Ann's brother) and wife Lynn. I felt as if I was chasing them around the world. I had already visited Australia and on my way toward South Africa they moved north of Sydney near Newcastle.

 

Robyn and I were setup for sleeping outside on the wide covered veranda with a view over the tennis court and across the gardened yard out to the lagoon. Thick cushions were laid down with sheets under a double sized mosquito net. Of course we were exhausted and barely able to stand. I quickly fell asleep, but first forced myself to notice and appreciate the sounds of birds and hippos around us.

 

Fr 10/15/99 - Chalala, Zimbabwe

 

Lake Kariba was opened in 1958, creating the largest man made lake up to that date, 300 kilometers long. With the rising waters many locals were displaced (who cast a spell on the dam) and animals perished. Hilltops became islands but only the highest survived. Project Noah became famous for its efforts and uniqueness in rescueing animals from the rising water, bringing them to the mainland.

 

Because of mismanagement, the lake height at one time was eleven meters lower. When I visited in 1991 the pier at Kariba Breezes sat uselessly high above the water. Now the land around the Chessman's home has shrunk, the neighbor's volleyball court is under water, and the area between the two properties is a small inlet. Throughout the lake trees are dead and standing just offshore.

 

When I woke my eyes, nose, skin, and mind filled with the morning air, crisp like the sky was cleared by rain. I peered from the veranda beyond the gardens, passed the boats, and toward the lagoon. The water was calm and beyond was dense, dry forest.

 

Of sheer coincident, Ian phoned from Australia, the first time he and Ann have spoken in months. I was able to say to my old friend and wish him well in new adventures.

 

We joined the family for breakfast (pau pau, cereal, toast) then I walked down to the small property peninsula, passed the pool and bar to sit on a white iron mesh chair with a clear view of the water. I attempted to type, but instead sat with bird book in hand and binoculars glues to my eyeballs. I watched two lilac breasted rollers fight with a broadbilled (cinnamon) roller and attempted to identify other birds.

 

The afternoon was relaxing, Robyn joined me in watching and listening to the birds, later we went for a dip in the pool (swimming in the lagoon is too dangerous for the crocs, hippos, and bilharzia).

 

About 430pm we went on a boat safari with Ann and Shawn (Ralph was resting and taking Fansidar for suspected malaria, he would never know for sure without a bloodtest). From close to shore at Nyamamberre Island we watched waterbuck then a five legged elephant drink. Robyn was in amazement and laughed and rushed me for a picture, but before changing to a long lens I snapped an overview of the boat and shore, and with the human witnesses the elephant then lost his prowess.

 

Near the islands the fly population increased, they bounced off or foreheads, targeted our eyes, and I was bothered by one in the nose and two in an ear. Fortunately they weren't mosquitoes.

 

We then motored to Sandy Beach (Island 127) where the dinosaur Volcanadon Karibienses was discovered. We pulled into the shallows of long beach, looked for crocodiles, and walked ashore. Ten meters away a crocodile moved from the beach to water and submerged. With a few minutes Shawn spotted an elephant in the dry bush just up from the beach. We studied the situation for a minute and Ann declared that the elephant was working toward the water and we should move on.

 

We went a short distance to a smaller beach on a spit of land also facing east. The beach crested to an opening, revealing beach on the other side of the spit, the lake, hippos, two recreational fishing boats, and the setting sun. We walked to that side, Ann and Shawn especially sharp eyed for elephant, hippos, buffalo, and crocs. On a recent visit the family found a python in a small dead tree at the water. Ann scanned the ground for dinosaur bones (her hobby) and I hoped for a classic hippo to yawn in the setting sun with the small boats behind with men reel and rod fishing but didn't happen.

 

We sat near the boat, opened the cooler of cold drinks, passed tomato-flavored potato chips around, and talked.

 

 

We left the shore carefully with Ann on the bow and on the lookout for tree stumps. Imagine hitting one - the boat would sink, the motor and my electronic equipment would be ruined, life preservers would be passed out, and we would swim to shore through crocodiles and possibly hippopotamus. Whoever made it safely would then be stranded with elephant, hippos, and buffalo until Ralph realized there was a problem.

 

Shawn piloted the boat with Yamaha 115 quickly back into the lagoon with the traditional sweep to the left and to their property.

 

The help set up tables and chairs near the bar for a braai (bbq) and I was especially excited when I learned we would have boerwurst and sudza (same as nsima, ugali) along with steak and salad. The conversation moved between many topics including AIDS in Chalala. A professional in the field claimed that "Chalala is 100% AIDS", then Ann rattled off many mnes names who had died from the disease, and claimed Zimbabwe suffers the most amongst countries. The situation is sad. The men have wives but without better leisure activities purchase alcohol and recruit prostitutes on their free time. Condoms? "Skin on skin is better". So the men bring AIDS home to their wives.

 

I watched Silver, an eager family's helper - fisherman come gardener come cleaner and cook - and wondered.

 

Along with Silver, the Cheesman's also have two gardeners and a security guard at night. Recently, they were forced into firing their cook, a woman who worked for fifteen years with them. Ann insists that if the help needs something, they just ask first or write it into a pad, but she was caught stealing food as she left one day by the guard. With differences in culture and morality stealing is a problem and so the Cheesman's have a "one-time only" rule with the company and house. But Ralph knows that about one quarter of the catch of each boat is sold to Zambians and Ann knows that the help slip food and other things away - it is hard to stop. Some whites would rather ignore it if the worker is good rather than find and retrain. But if someone is caught, then it's best not to ignore it an set a precedence.

 

Throughout my time in Southern Africa with expats and white citizens the topic of culture differences would repeatedly arise. Whites see blacks live day to day callous of natural resources such as water, forest, and wildlife, and with little regard to human life. Blacks look at whites with disdain, thinking whites are the ones stealing their resources, forcing upon them unrealistic ways of life. The differences are irrevocable.

 

Sa 10/16/99 - Chalala, Zimbabwe

 

After a big breakfast of eggs, ham, cereal, and toast, Ann asked is we would like to join her on errands to the two posh lodges nearby. She has become successful in landscaping, maintaining gardens, and for pot plants around the area. We jumped into her Mitsubushi Jeep (a man recently imported crates of the used Japanese army jeeps), and I was impressed by the small 4x4, commenting that they must be made better than the old Willy's which it resembled.

 

The canvas top was unbuckled from it's frame and drawn forward but left to cover Ann and Robyn, I stood behind and held fast onto the rollbar. We bumped past Chalala village, crossed into a reserve, and ran over a long dirt track with our eyes open for game. Around Chalala are game controlled areas where hunting is prohibited and nearby is Matusadona National Park, but regardless, the African animals know no boundaries and danger is present throughout. We passed into Nyami Nyami Bumi Hills Wildlife Area. The landscape was very dry, and at 10am, most game was resting from the heat although we saw plenty of waterbuck, elephant, warthogs, bushbuck, and impala. The waterbuck is a large, gray animal, and we mused at why they were they so hairy in this hot weather, I also wondered what purpose the large white circular marking on the rump held, Gary Larson (The Far Side) would have an explanation.

 

Bumi Hills Safari Lodge was the first luxury camp built in the area. It has a particularly nice vantage point high atop a hill overlooking red beach along the lake. From a viewing deck nearby the bean shaped pool I spotted elephants, warthog, and impala. Ann was recently brought back onto the gardening scene here since a new manager was hired, ending a two-year span of very few hours. The previous prejudice manager released all white help excluding Ann who was reduced to minimal work.

 

We bumped along to Katete, that recently boasted to be the most expensive lodge in the country (now $325/person/night, all anclusive). Katete is small, they have only sixteen two-person huts, but the buildings are very impressive, naturally designed. Ann assisted in the landscaping, bringing in only indigenous trees and plants.

 

I called an overland company in Harare called Campwild. Along the route south they had small advertisements posted in backpackers with trips leaving weekly from Vic Falls to Cape Town via Botswana and Namibia for US$845. Unfortunately, there October 28th trip was full. With their recommendation I then called a broker in Victoria Falls named Di at Backpackers Bazaar. She sounded like a real estate sales person, which bothered me, but did say she would investigate and return call tomorrow morning.

 

Robyn and I joined Ralph and Ann on a boat safari in the late afternoon. The wind was calm and lake glasslike. The first stop was Secret Valley. In 1991 I visited Secret Valley with Dan Fazekas and the Cheesman's. Shawn had a show and tell school project and we came here to find zebra bones after a lion kill. Now Secret Valley is filled with water, a small boat of men fished near the far shore while elephant walked by.

 

We motored back into the lake and along Bumi Hills shoreline. The sunset was especially spectacular, a red ball and a multitude f streaks and colors through light clouds. The sky above was a light pink and this reflected across the calm lake before us in a dark metallic pink. Dead trees stood just offshore and added to the dramatic scene.

 

After sunset we then visited Snake Island just outside Chalala Lagon, filled with noisy pied kingfishers and cormorants.

 

Robyn, the family, and I ate dinner in the downstairs dining area prepared by Silver - roasted chicken, potatoes, squash, and gravy Per norm I avoided the greens. We talked at length about university majors and there uses, degrees in computer science, tourism, business, and wilderness management. Within two years Shawn will be attending college or university.

 

Su 10/17/99 - Chalala, Zimbabwe

 

There was early morning excitement - a python killed a chicken in the rear of the house and we all ran to see. A python, the largest snake in southern Africa, kills by first burying it's fangs into the prey, then coiling around and suffocating it. The python takes the prey whole, head first. This python was an adolescent, only a meter long, and uncoiled from the ball of feathers for nervousness caused by the audience.

 

Robyn wasn't feeling herself, she had an upset tummy, headache, and felt very tired. Of course malaria was a question. While Robyn rested, I joined the family by the pool and watched Shawn and Shea play fight with tennis balls and rainbow colored boogie boards. They got along great, again a different childhood lifestyle to my own. They have grown up in Chalala without many playmates nearby and relied on one another.

 

Robyn slept most of the day but later joined Ralph and Shawn and I for a late afternoon fishing expedition. In 1991, Dan and I fished with Ralph. At that time I had even less of an interest and instead. But with recent forays aboard Hi Velocity and in Lamu I was more of a sportsman and lasted through worm fishing for bream (little ones kept stealing the bait) and fifteen minutes of casting for the sporting tiger fish before sitting and watching. I am happy to say I caught both a tiny bream and small tiger.

 

For my pleasure Ann made boboetie for dinner, a Afrikaans dish of curried mince, rice, chutney, and other sweet toppings.

 

Over the last few days Ann and I have slowly become a little closer and she has taken full advantage of my insistence that the United States beat Australia in rugby. Robyn first laughed at the notion, and since every Zimbabwean has grinned and shaken their heads at the outrageous notion of Americans playing rugby, but none had laughed harder than Ann. With the boboetie Ann has won my heart.

 

The family flopped like lounging lions around the television, first watching a bad American action video followed by "Seven Years in Tibet" with Brad Pitt. I piped in to add commentary from what I could remember in the book.

 

Mo 10/18/99 - Gweru, Zimbabwe

 

Ann and Ralph put a lot of effort into helping us decide our future plans in Zimbabwe. They looked into a canoe trip on the Zambez below dam to Mana Pools, a trip I've had looked forward to for months but wouldn't be able to swing. Normal cost is about US$100 per day including guide, food, and equipment, although they phones a friend who would pass on a discount but was leaving on Friday. They discussed a visit directly to Mana Pools and the idea of an expensive ferry along the lake. Robyn and I settled on a plan to attack Victoria Falls immediately and arranged for an overland trip to Cape Town.

 

Ralph was ferrying Ann, Shawn, and Shea across to Kariba. Ann would bring the children back to school (Shawn and Shea attended high school at Lomagoni College, an hour and one half west of Harare) and stay away for a week working around Kariba. So, we said our goodbyes to my Chalala family and waited for a ride toward Gweru with their neighbor, Paul Berry.

 

Getting a ride to Gweru with Paul was goodluck. Otherwise we would have headed away from Victoria Falls to meet the main road toward Harare for a bus. Although Victoria Falls is west northwest from Chalala on the Zambezi beyond the lake, only one poor road parallels the lake and people drive around in a large circle to reach it.

 

 

 

Paul Berry and Jowl (Bognor Regis, England) met us about 2pm and we were off in his Toyota Pathfinder stuffed with dried kapenta fish. Between Jowl's legs was a cooler of cold drinks an we appreciated Paul for his consideration.

 

We passed into Nyami Nyami Bumi Hills Wildlife Area and over a long dirt road through some nice, albeit dry, scenery. From heights we saw viillages of painted mud and thatch homes with great looming baobabs standing overhead. Similar to Zambia, a lot of ground was carelessly burned by locals.

 

We stopped at a tsetse fly checkpoint and Paul yelled at two workers in Sindebele walking toward the 4x4 with silly fly nets, "Come on now, hurry, there aren't any tsetse flies left!" Nearby was another blue and green tarpaulin flag on a post - a tsetse fly trap. Scientists have chemically reproduced the animal scents that tsetse fly are attracted to and added to the trap is insecticide, very effective.

 

Life is funny; the less informed one is, the clearer he sees. Eradication of the disease ridden tsetse flies seemed like a good idea to me, but it isn't to some. Without tsetse flies, cattle can be moved into new areas for grazing, forests are cleared and wildlife is either hunted or shot as pests. The natural environment and balance of nature is destroyed by man. Whites in Chalala would like the tsetse flies to return. I suggested breeding a "Super Shiva Tsetse", one that would be immune to insecticides and would hunt domestic livestock and the livestock farmers.

 

We ran the length of dirt road and turned to join the paved road through Gokwe and onto the main Harare-Bulawayo road to Gweru. Even at night Gweru was like a paradise - neat, orderly, wide colonial streets, and proper stores and shops - banks, pharmacies, clothing stores - wow! Even ATM machines! Paul stopped at Nando's for dinner, one in the same South African chain that we visited in Nairobi. We bought chicken dinners, pizza, and other fast foods.

 

In a very nicely kept and well established neighborhood we met Paul's mom Joan at her home. I was eager to meet this woman who gave birth to Paul at age 49 and found Joan very energetic and sharp. We ate, watched a bad American action movie (Kurt Russell, Steven Siegel), then Robyn, Jowl, and I moved next door for the night to a vacant and sparsely furnished house up for sale.

 

Tu 10/19/99 - Bulawayo, Zimbabwe

 

Joan provided a very nice breakfast in her home and Paul called ahead on our behalf to Rory and Irene Muirhead in Bulawayo. Rory and Irene own a Chalala kapenta company and have a wholesale company in Bulawayo. Ralph and Ann suggested that the Muirhead's would gladly accept us for a night on our transit through to Victoria Falls.

 

Near Paul's kapenta office is the local us station. We had just missed two buses for Bulawayo and sat for an hour before another appeared. Comparatively, Robyn and I had a very nice two hour bus ride from Gweru to Bulawayo (Z$70).

 

Bulawayo, Zimbabwe's second largest city, was similar to Gweru but larger - clean, orderly, and filled with shops and stores to make any third world traveler very happy - Woolworth's, Trueworth's, Barclay's, photography stores, internet cafes, ice cream shops, and so on.

 

We taxied to Matemba Sales kapenta shop on Fort St. and 15th, and thinking that the company was closed for lunch, dropped our packs next door at a local restraurant. After lunch of sadza and stew, I wandered back to Matemba to find an error on our part - the company was buzzing but we didn't check the gate. I passed by men in blue overalls and machines in the small work area and quickly met Rory and Irene. When I returned to Robyn in the restaurant, I found the waitress attempting to convince Robyn to attend her born again Christian church.

 

Rory and Irene welcomed us with big smiles. They were waiting for our call from the bus station and to pick us up. In their office was lunch and they chuckled when we told them where we ate.

 

Robyn and I spent the afternoon walking the pretty city and returned to Matemba at 530pm for a lift to the Muirhead's home on Matopa Road.

 

Rory and Irene's home is big and beautiful, built in 1930, surrounded by colorful garden, with a giant jacaranda, and a cute bricked cottage that will soon take lodgers. We were shown to a huge bedroom of six above the living room with a view over the pool and lawn, bordered by high shrubs. We then sat around a small bar on the veranda and met the five dogs - three jack russels, a merle great dane, and a blind and deaf brown dog with high heeled paws.

 

The great dane was as big and simple as dogs get and didn't seem to mind the jack russells ferociously growling, snapping, and gnawing at his lips. The thirteen year old brown dog, blind after year one, was very interesting. After rolling around on the floor and nipping at an itch he would rise and walk away completely orientated. I never saw him bump into furniture or doorways although Irene told of this happening and the dog also falling into the pool. Rory demonstrated the dogs keen sense of smell by waking him by simply standing nearby, and deafness by clapping near his ears. The other four dogs haven't compassion for this one and give him hell when he intrudes on their space. The Muirheads also keep two cats and three horses and the largest guinea fowl ever.

 

Talking with Rory and Irene over dinner and afterward was very nice. Again Robyn and I were able to learn what family life African style was like. Rory worked as a brew master, then they purchased his father's

 

hotel, Grey's Inn, and ran it for twenty years before buying the kapenta company nearly twenty years earlier.

 

We 10/20/99 - Bulawayo, Zimbabwe

 

We were treated to a big breakfast (tea, cereal, yoghurt, porridge, bacon-ham, eggs, fried tomatoes) in the dining room, and Rory was glad for the excuse.

 

The gardener walked past our view outside and Irene casually said he was Ninety-one years old, he has been working for them for twenty-five years.. Wait a minute! Ninety-one years old?! The average life span is forty-four in Zimbabwe, this guy beat the statistic two fold and he's gardening. Amazing!

 

Not far from the Muirhead's is Matopa National Park, an area of strange balancing rocks, bushman paintings, and the sight of Cecil Rhodes grave. Rory and Irene helped to investigate the cost of a trip for Robyn and I, and finding that the cost was US$55 per person, decided to play hooky from work and sw us themselves.

 

We jumped into their big Landcruiser and before making the park entrance spotted impala and bushbuck. The Motopa National Park is divided into two areas - one with and one without big wildlife. At the gate we were directed to silence or as Irene said in a thick overdone Zimbabwean accent, "to talk like us". We saw that the posted entrance fee for foreigners is US$20 per person and we readily agreed not to peep. Rory and Irene would repeatedly show their appal at the prices visitors are required to pay in Zimbabwe, and we agreed, but still fees are more in other countries such as Tanzania and Botswana.

 

The Matapo's landscape was dry, in need of the coming rain season. Over the millennium water has eroded rock into columns, and the columns into impossibly stacked rocks, one atop another. The first stop was at a bushman cave painting called "White Rhino". After a short, steep walk with Irene leading the way, we came upon an overhang of rock with fencing to protect it. Along the wall were timeless paintings of running warriors and wild animals. Unfortunately, some of the red paintings had been mutilated, pieces chipped away for souvenirs, and areas scratched, but the site was my first cave paintings and I foound them fasinating. The white rhino was difficult but possibly to find, the clearest painting was a sequence of hunters running with bow and satchels, and at the bottom was a man with - a guide suggested - a surf board.

 

Cecil John Rhodes requested that his body be buried (1902) at an area in the Matopas he named "View of the World", a ethereal bald hilltop with large round stones adorning it. Rhodes was the premiere colonialist, supported by the British Empire to explore and exploit wealth from the soil such as diamonds, gold, and other minerals. He dreamt of an British administered corridor from Cape Town to Cairo but his railway line was completed only as far as Bulawayo, good enough to bring his body from the Cape. Rodesia, now Zimbabwe, was named after him. Between the boulders his graved was carved into the stone and granite covered placed there. The strength of this man and his choice of resting spot is powerful.

 

We drove on, stopping to view animals - giraffe, bushbuck, waterbuck, warthog - and stopped at a dam with a still snaking river before it. Between the curves were many baboons and snorting up to greet us were two warthogs. Rory, Irene, and Robyn (not I!) stroked the long bristled hair of the animals and cooed at their cute ugliness, but when Robyn spotted enormous lice, the petting quickly stopped.

 

Robyn was still feeling weak from her illness and decided to rest for the afternoon. I joined the Muirheads into town mid-afternoon to run errands and breath in more of the modern city. I looked into overland options from Victoria Falls to Cape Town and found many companies with names like Nomad, Wildlife, Campwild, and Which Way. Again I returned to the Matemba office at 530pm to join Irene for a ride home.

 

We sat at the bar on the veranda with neighbors, a young couple and their child. The man is an electrical contractor and in an animated fashion told a funny story typical of a frustrated westerner in an African world. He drove into the city and pulled into a parking space with a sign, "Out of order". "Good", he thought, "the meter doesn't work, I don't have to plop coins in and I can quickly run up and down and be off". But as quick as he was finished his chore and returned to his car, a ticket was stuck under the windscreen wiper. He found the meterman and argued to no avail. Next time in the city he was accompanied by a Zimbabwean working for his company. Before entering his bank, he put money in the meter, and with a dashboard full of coins asked the worker to put money in the meter if it runs out and the meterman comes around. When he returned another ticket was stuck under his windscreen wiper and so asked, "Why didn't you put money in the machine when the meter reader came?" And the frustrating reply, "I didn't see him". Everyone around the bar was laughing hard.

 

I fought sleep on the couch with Rory nearby while the World Cup Rugby was on the tube. We watched the second half and Argentina beat Ireland, I suspect that was an upset. I then stumbled up the long stepped staircase to bed while Rory awaited Tony, a mischievous buddy from school days who was driving ten hours from Johannesburg to accompanying Rory tomorrow on a wages trip to Chalala. Durinng dinner we heard many Tony stories.

 

Th 10/21/99 - Bulawayo, Zimbabwe

 

We met Tony at another huge breakfast spread across the dining room table. He and Rory looked forward with boyish excitement to spending a few days in Chalala fishing and relaxing and I felt a twinge of jealousy.

 

The Muirhead's daughter Carey and husband Martin live two hours away in Francistown, Botswana and rolled into town with their three young children to watch Australia embarrass Zimbabwe in a one day cricket match. Francistown is a gold mining town become retail town in the Botswana backwater (if it isn't dry season). The family moved there for Martin's job and Carey despises the remoteness, prefering the active Bulawayo.

 

Rory and Tony were off for Chalala and we said our goodbyes, thank you's, and wished them luck. Robyn and I then joined Irene to Bulawayo and ran errands for the day - working an overland reservation through Alex at Gemsbok Travel, shopping for the small things that will be costly in Vic Falls, and finding junky snacks. I questioned the quantity of blind men being led around by kids for handouts and noticed more than one African albino. We lunched at Sister's with Irene and Carey and enjoyed more insight to a young family growing in Francistown, Botswana. ("Botswana", what a cool name for a country!)

 

While failing to wait out a spot for internet we met two girls from a Truck Africa overland trip. While in Malawi on Lake Malawi, one girl and two others developed malaria. She was on Larium, the others were not. After a week of recuperating, the girl still glassy eyed and without energy.

 

We met Irene at the company office at 530pm. We listened while she tore into a worker asking for a loan to buy a plough ox.

 

Man, "But I promised to buy the ox today..."

 

Irene, "You made the promise, not me. I don't care what you promised, that is your doing!"

 

Man, "But, I need an ox...."

 

Irene, "What happened to your other oxen? I already loaned you money for an ox!"

 

Man, "The other two are too weak to pull the plough..."

 

Irene, "I don't understand! You buy ox and you don't take care of them! Why don't you take of them?!"

 

Man, "The ox eat plastic bags.and they are ill."

 

Irene, "Then why don't you clean the field before grazing the ox?!

 

Man, "There are too many bags."

 

Irene was thoroughly frustrated but gave in, lending the man Z$3000 for the Z$8000 plough ox. She told him to never ask again and later softly said how she felt for the them, the locals have little opportunity, they could never receive a loan from a bank. This man was a entrepreneur growing cotton and working other small businesses, he will eventually pay back the loan through company wages, although many don't repay loans.

 

Irene is like many Zimbabweans and South Africans that want to help the less advantaged, but as the years get on, frustration and a realization that little changes sets in, they become discouraged.

 

After dinner, the three of us sat in the livingroom. I flicked through the high-tech satellite box, glancing quickly at rugby commentary, a Chinese station, National Geographic show on tigers, America's Cup Volleyball, World News, and finally Samoa versus Scotland in World Cup Rugby. The while I was able to scan an on-line program guide in a box at the picture bottom and I wondered when we would have such luxury on cable in Newport.

 

Fr 10/22/99 - Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

 

We had tried to show appreciation with two bottles of nice South African wine, but the hospitality extended to us by the Muirhead's was beyond the thought. We also sincerely offered to return the hospitality on our home turf. Irene dropped as at the bus stop by 700am and once again, heartfelt goodbyes.

 

Robyn found allies in the Muirhead's and we had booked an expensive coach ride to Victoria Falls (6 hours, 438 kilometers, Z$890, local bus Z$300) on Blue Arrow. The new Neoplan coach was equipped with video monitor and headphones, toilet, and bad air conditioning. A steward served cold drinks while people settled into a mono-colored classic movie called "The Thief of Bagdad" with flying carpets and water pipes which had Robyn laughing.

 

We passed a "caution, impala crossing", "caution, elephant crossing", and "caution, wild dog" crossing signs.

 

I told Robyn I didn't want to take more expensive bus rides although she was very happy without the crowded staunch and chickens and fleas. We passed old buses broken down ("See Bob, that could be us!) and newer ones whizzing by with leopards painted on the side and filled with locals ("See Robyn, that could be us!"). With about 100 kilometers to go we passed another bus, this one spilled onto it's side, with all windows shattered and clothes strewn on the ground and clinging to window frames. It appeared most occupants were standing near the road, staring at the wreck.

 

Our luxury bus arrived Victoria Falls at 130pm. From the windows we saw a mass of touts about to pounce so we agreed to ignore their offerings and instead organize a strategy inside the nearest restaurant. We found a relatively cheap restaurant in a small mall in the village center and searching our resources for accommodation. We took Alex's recommendation and walked fifteen minutes out of town to Inyathi Valley Motel and Rest Camp, on Parkway Road, the road to the crocodile farm I stayed at in 1991. The cheapest room was for three people and cost Z$675 although we were given the key to number 11, an end room in a semicircular thatched roof brick building with four beds, mosquito nets, windows without screens, and common toilet and shower. The campground was new, the building nicely designed and the room large - it was okay, although we didn't care for the price.

 

We walked around the town. Since Robyn was stuck with a VISA card that wasn't suppose to function on an account that was low, she would start drawing wads of Z$100 notes to change into U.S. dollars. We strolled through the big and new Kingdom Hotel, interestingly decorated with a small waterfall outside and huge wooden African figures in a main lobby. Inside is a small casino where I lost Z$3 - 30 U.S. cents, about the average loss amongst all the casinos I've ever visited.

 

We ate at Spurs's, a South African burger chain noted for it's burger sauces such as cheese mushroom and monkey gland.

 

Victoria Falls has certainly grown since my last visit. Dan Fazekas and I went on "The Flight of Angels", an airplane ride over the falls, and a sunset rivercruise. When we walked into Zambia, an Australian outfit had a non-commercial license to bungee from the Zambezi Bridge. Now, like Queenstown, New Zealand, many, many activities are offered:

 

bungee

 

skydiving

 

microlite

 

ultralite

 

fixed wing

 

helicopter

 

rafting

 

canoeing

 

kayaking

 

riverboarding

 

river cruise

 

abseiling

 

tightrope

 

gorge swing

 

flying fox

 

safari

 

horseback riding

 

elephant riding

 

Sa 10/23/99 - Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

 

So, here we were, home to one of the most famous sites in Africa with many days to explore before the overland trip!

 

The mighty Zambezi River is 2700km long, the forth longest in Africa. It's source is on the Zambia and Zaire border, and it passes over Victoria Falls and through Lake Kariba before empting into the Indian Ocean at Mozambique.

 

Victoria Falls is thought to be the most majestic falls in the world. It was first "discovered" by Livingstone in 1850 and during high river is the widest falls in the world. Of the falls, Livingstone's initial words are often quoted, "on sites as beautiful as this, Angels in their flight must have gazed". Locals call it Mosi-Oa-Tonya, "Smoke that Thunders".

 

I begged Robyn to be up early to catch the early morning at the falls. We didn't even eat before heading out at 6am, we brought breakfast and snacks with us. An hor later I was happy to find that we were in low season and were thus charged US$10 instead of $20 to enter the park.

 

The Zambezi makes a left jog through Victoria Falls. More specifically, the Zambezi runs east to the falls before spilling 100 meters down at the Devil's Cataract into the southern end of First Gorge, flowing north through the gorge, then bending right and east again under the bridge into Second Gorge. During the wet season the river widens to nearly two kilometers and spills over the whole length of First Gorge.

 

I was excited for the falls but more so for Robyn's first venture to this Mecca. We quickly walked to the view of Devil's Cataract from the southern end of First Gorge. From here, the cataract was front and center, and the view also extended nearly two kilometers along the main falls.

 

We then moved along the main falls to different view points and searched for a good breakfast spot with a nice view. All viewpoints were surrounded with thorn bush - until the end of the walk. But before we realized this, we spotted a set of rock near the canyon edge with a view and hopped a section of boma. We sat to eat cereal with banana 100 meters above the Zambezi with the sheer canyon wall of the main falls stretching left and right. To our left the waterfall created a large vibrant rainbow. The thunder of the falls was loud, but not too loud to talk in a normal tone.

 

After two hours of strolling and observing and relaxing, Robyn and I walked through Zimbabwe immigration and onto the Zambezi Bridge (1905) to watch nervous people bungee jumping 111m (US$90) and possibly weeing themselves. My breath skipped when I first peered over the bridge railing, through the gorge, and to the churning river below. The people dove nicely, swan dives, and after a first stage of accelerating the bungee cord stretched and they slowed, coming within ten meters of the water. Some screamed. For an instance they were suspended in air above the mighty Zambezi then the trip back up toward the bridge accelerated them again. Because people dive outward, their first recoil brings them below the bridge ad out of sight.

 

I wanted a better view of the action, so we continued across the bridge and offically into Zambia although we didn't reach their customs office. We sat near a video cameraman and again watched a fw people ris their lives and wallets.

 

On our return across the bridge we stopped again to observe. There was a boom box playing funky music with applicable lyrics to the gut retching sport - "I can see clearly now, the rain has gone...", "Rocket Man", and Johnny Cash, "I fell into a ring of fire, and I fell down, down, down, and the flames grew up higher, and it burns, burns, burns, that ring of fire, that ring of fire..." Robyn and I would sing the Johnny Cash song for many days afterward.

 

We returned to Inyathi, showered the sweat from the day away, allowing for a fresh layer of evening pong, and rested on our beds. A creaking next door changed to moaning and when I propped my head to listen, Robyn scolded me for being perverted. With my imagination free from knowing who exactly was next door, I could only assume a beautiful woman. More moans, loud, this time certainly male and the show was finished. Then we heard two voices chatting, both male, and I was screeching from horror and Robyn roaring with laughter!

 

We walked to the road. A Scottish couple in a white four by four offered a lift to town and we jumped in. He had a three-year contract in a small Botswana town and she looked forward to leaving the desolation and heat. They were nice, dropping us off at Barclay's Bank.

 

At Barclay's we gathered stacks of Zim dollars and walked into the village to pay for a river trip. Bundu, a Zambian firm, offered a US$75 full day trip on rapids one through twenty-one including snacks, lunch, and my American one-day visa into Zambia.

 

We had dinner at the mediocre Pizza Bistro in Soper's Plaza, pizza and pasta, then watched Australia beat Wales in World Cup Rugby.

 

Su 10/24/99 - Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

 

Sleep last night was fitful. I woke at 11pm uncomfortably hot, sweaty, and pissed off. I thought a shower may help to cool my body down at least long enough to fall asleep, but that didn't work. Then mosquitoes employed their dastardly ways to annoy me further.

 

I was up before 6am and across the road with hope in finding baboons positioned in a tree before the rising sun. The baboons weren't there and clouds covered the sunrise. I saw a green concrete sign in the road opposite Inyathi and upon investigation, found it marked the boundary to Victoria Falls National Park. It also said the park road was open for walking from 6am to 530pm and seeing myself o the edge of the window, I figured something interesting my happened along the road.

 

A male impala with long horns ran from the roadside and into the bush. I stepped over elephant dung and a minute later I spotted four buffalo in the bush at a comfortable distance. Many guinea fowl were rustling about, the funny thin black birds with white spots and blue heads. About two kilometers along the road was a bend and a huge baobab tree called "Big Tree". It was surrounded by a low mesh fence, obviously a attempt to protect the tree from people who need to carve their names into it. One inscription read , "E. Dishington 1925".

 

On my walk back along the park road an official looking man in brown uniform asked if I had seen any animals, and I replied yes, buffalo up on the right. He asked if they were at the baobab tree, no, before the baobab tree. As he walked away I called after him and asked what is special about the tree.

 

"I guard the tree, people put their signatures into the tree, that will kill the tree. The tree is 1500 years old. In 1850 Dr. Livingstone discovered the tree and had tea under it. If you have had three or too many beers and are bubalas, you take the flower after it falls on to the ground, grind the flowers flour and make porridge and eat and the bubalas runs away." - Bubalas means hangover

 

Our lift for riverboarding and rafting came at 720am and I immediately asked the driver to upgrade my adventure to "combo", meaning for US$20 more I would riverboard (boogie board) the first half of the day. I was nervous about the decision for a few reasons. Robyn and I had watched videos while straying through the town and both agreed we had never seen rafting like here, especially the notorious rapid number 18, called "Oblivion", that grabs and shakes rafts violently, spewing people out like popcorn. There are many rumors of people being injured and dieing, yesterday at an ATM we met a German who had broken a finger. Lastly, I question the sanity of being force fed the Zambezi river water.

 

We picked up two Australians and an Englshman, then waited at the office in town, and there I met my riverboarding guide, Wayne. Zimbabwean immigration was painless, we drove across the Zambezi Bridge, and into Zambia, my third visit this trip.

 

After Zambian immigration, we met others joining from Livingstone, and admired a different view of the powerful falls near Eastern Cataract while sipping tea and nibbling crackers. The view looked straight down the distance of the main falls, Victoria Falls. The two kilometer wide river (wet season) comes from the right and tumbles over basalt cliffs, more than one hundred meters down into the long First Gorge. From the long gorge the water flowed toward us and exited left into narrow Second Gorge and under the Zambezi Bridge.

 

I was taken aside with Wayne while Robyn and the others recieved rafting orientation, I was the only one of nine riverboarding. Wayne is a Zimbabwean, schooled in South Africa, a videoman, rafter, and riverboarding guide. He was communicative, but not over personable.

 

At the bottom of the long staircase, just below rapid number 1, "Against The Wall", were two dozen rafting porters from different companies, many with half closed bloodshot eyes from smoking marijuana. Three companies work the Zambian side, five Zimbabwe. Shearwater Rafting has fifty percent market share. Wayne and I went to one side atop a four meter cliff, and there Wayne provided very terse information on riverboarding - basically follow him, hold on tight to the board through rapids, point forty-five degrees upstream to leave an eddy, and four-five degrees downstream to enter one. More specific information was given above each rapid. We wore lifejackets, battered and flimsy crash helmets, strange shaped yellow and blue flippers, and although the sky was cloudy, I also wore a t-shirt for sun protection. My white Mike Stewart signature Morey 7-42 boogie board was leashed onto the right wrist.

 

Towering above was the Zambezi Bridge and it's 111-meter bungee jump. From the time we prepared ourselves to floating under the bridge, three people jumped, two could be faintly heard screaming. The elbow of cliff overhead between First and Seond Gorge, was where Robyn and I walked to yesterday and again there were hornbills flying about. As I floated toward the bridge a small fixed wing plane and an ultralite flew high above.

 

We jumped feet first into the river and I had my first taste of the Zambezi River.

 

The rapid grading system for rafting is based 1 to 5, 5 being the most difficult. Grade 6 is unraftable, like rapid 9. People in Victoria Falls are quick to tell you that rapid 8 is the highest grade commercial rapid in the world.

 

Rapids 2 (no name) and 3 (no name) were good orientation for boarding. They were simple affairs with shoots and waves meeting the face. I had a little water down the windpipe and coughed to clear it, no problem, but I tried to hide it from Wayne, I didn't want an easier options along the way.

 

Rapid 4, "Morning Glory" (grade 5) was one of those options, and Wayne decided that since I hadn't dropped the board yet, I should be okay. We checked out the rapid from atop rocks while waiting for the rafts to pass through first because we needed to board them between rapids 4 and 5 - a three and one half meter crocodile was seen near the base of the Zambian hydroelectric plant. Wayne pointed and described the features of the rapid and how we would navigate through.

 

The rapid was longer, with bigger waves and a curve through it. I nearly forgot to move left and into an eddy to board the rafts, I was mentally too taken by the rapid's thrashing and concentrating on breathing - above the waves.

 

Our trip included two rafts, one bright yellow with Robyn in it and one gray with a plywood stretcher laid across the back where the guide sat handling huge oars to aid in navigating the river.

 

In addition, two kayakers followed along for safety and videoing. Shane Raw and Steve Fisher are both internationally rated and sponsored, representing South Africa at the World Rodeo Kayaking Championships in New Zealand at the beginning of December. Other top class kayakers from America and Canada are also in Victoria Falls to sharpen skills for the competition.

 

Wayne threw his board into the gray raft and as I followed an Englishman forcefully grab my vest and yanked hard to drag me in and then I was quickly reminded that the rafters were oriented for the river differently than I. What valuable information didn't I hear that I would later need to know? We lazily floated quietly along the river.

 

As we neared a large bend there were signs of the hydroelectric plant - atop the cliff were a few concrete structures, large piping spilled over the lip, cables ran down the cliffs, and at the bottom were flow outlets built into the rock. It appears that conduits were bored through 100 meters of rock and housed turbines at the bottom. This was interesting, but I was far more curious about the croc along the banks - never saw him.

 

Rapid 5, "Stairway to Heaven, Highway to Hell" (grade 5) and rapid 6, "Devil's Toilet Bowl" were similar stories - I gathered huge gulps of air before the huge hand of the Zambezi slapped slabs of water at my face, then held my body under for good measure. On rapid 6, Robyn's raft spilt everyone overboard.

 

Wayne announced we would join a raft for rapid 7, "Gulliver's Travel" (grade 5), I asked why, and as if I understood my question and the situation he easily changed his mind and said okay, we would board it. Wayne became a little more serious, concentrated on his words and carefully described the rapid, in particular a rock at the outset that we had to go right of, on the left side was a serious pool, and afterward we needed to kick like all hell to move to the river center and away from a rock wall.

 

I followed Wayne through, we stayed right of the rock and after that the river had compete control, I was at its mercy. With the first wave nearing my face I took the largest breath possible and ducked. I was flipped and spun and held under, popped out for only a second to clear my eyes and try for a breath, then grabbed back by the river beast and held down without remorse. I felt the river tugging from all directions and I was still held down, clutching the board to my chest. I consciously thought I was moving down river but where was I, maybe at the wall, I could only wait out the mad flow. As I was thrashed and spinning about, the board was pulling away from my chest and I somehow knew it was being pulled upward, then I found myself at the surface with the wall coming quickly. I managed to gather my confused body onto the board and kicked away from the wall, but the effect was minimal and the river brought the wall close and then away.

 

Wayne was wide eyed and excited, a huge grin. If he could have slapped me on the back he would have. With his excitement I knew something unusual happened - he said I was only the second client he brought through rapid 7, "Rapid 7 is the longest (600m) with the most down time. The management doesn't like the idea, but if the person is comfortable, I figure - why not?!" I felt proud, like I personally accomplished something typically stupid. Hey, hey!

 

"The Muncher" (grade 5), rapid 8, is known as the largest and most intimidating commercial rapid in the world, and it had no issue with spilling Robyn's raft. Wayne and I moved ahead so I could witness this one, but they were so low in the hole when the raft twisted and overturned, they came back into view scattered across the river. While the crew gathered on top of the overturned raft, Robyn was again bounced overboard, and was soon to claim the most times overboard.

 

"Commercial Suicide", rapid 9 (grade 6), was beautiful, a portage for the rafts. Since the river was low, the shore beside the rapid was basalt shelf with many holes bored into it through the ages. The rapid itself was a terrible torrent with pockets and waves and shallow areas that would certainly do bodily harm for rafters. Kayaks are different though, a good kayaker can make the rapid and we saw two do it, including Steve - very impressive.

 

For a few minutes I joined the yellow raft and was able to ear the stories from Robyn and her fellow crew. They had flipped at rapids 6 and 8, Robyn held the overboard record of four times. She laughed with the others, "Bob, I can't stay in the raft, it keeps bouncing me out!".

 

After rapid 10, we pulled to the side to say goodbye to the people on half day and to munch a small sandwich. The yellow raft was deflated, rolled, wrapped, and portaged out with the boarding equipment. Wayne went off without a goodbye. The five reminding clients and two local guides, Steve and Cliff, combined forces in the gray raft. The client list was Robyn, two Australian guys, a well travelled Englishmen celebrating his fortieth birthday - and letting everyone know it - named Stuart, and myself.

 

The sun started peaking and since I was now on a raft, I had more time to view the surroundings - quiet rivershore and towering rocky basalt cliffs. The gorges are steep, less than one half a kilometer wide and thus, very impressive. In between rapids, the water meanders softly, sometimes we rested with helmets off, and a couple of times we jumped over to float along in the river.

 

Rapid 11, "The Overland Truck Eater", was my rafting initiation and when our guide Steven yelled, "Down!", I was caught by surprise at the order, and since I had joined a well seasoned crack team I was the last crouched and braced for the onslaught. The raft hesitated as the front was swept by a wave then punched through with everyone aboard. I was laughing uncontrollably and realized the comradely I had missed while boarding.

 

The "Three Ugly Sisters" are a series of three waves, the last being the largest. We paddled hard through the first two and as ordered, jumped down into the raft for the third.

 

I was now clued up to synchronizing my paddling with the Aussie guy ahead of me, quick to start and stopped as directed by our guide, and fast on the battle stations order. We forced our way through "The Mother", "The Narrows", "The Washing Machine", "Terminators One and Two", and "Double Trouble" - exciting, wet, and wild. On one of the earlier rapids in the series the raft sat on its side, tempted to spill the high paying clients into the African waters, but the crew beat the river by hanging fast and praying hard. In between rapids was a relaxing, floating ride through the gorgeous dry canyon, ribbons of alternating rock cliff and dry grass slopes stretching above. I commented to myself how rafting is a nice way to see the Zambezi gorges.

 

"Oblivion", rapid 18 (grade 5), has a bad reputation, or a good one depending on how you view it, and was the last for our videoman Steven with his running live commentary. The quiet of the river was slowly broken by a growing distance rumbling - louder, louder. Within a few raft lengths of the river monster, our guide Steven screamed, "paddle, paddle paddle!", and as we hit the crest of a 12 foot drop, "down, down, down!". We fell into the deep hole and were immediately confronted by a 16 foot wall of water. The raft buckled, twisted, and turned right as the front rose to the heavens and collapsed backwards upon itself. During the few seconds of this funky manoeuvre we were each and individually plucked and catapulted into the churning and frothing demon. The raft rushed downstream upside down and we were scattered around it. Clive was on top first and lifted Robyn then myself up. I was shocked to find my paddle still in hand. I helped by grabbing equipment and people and soon we were all on top of the inverted raft, laughing and slapping high fives.

 

After we gathered ourselves, we righted the raft. A cord is tied to the raft sides and runs across the bottom. While the others were back in the water and holding to one side, I assisted Steve and Clive in yanking on the rope while placing our weight beyond one side of the raft.

 

Steve gave us an option. "The Last Straw" has a deep pocket in the center and we had a choice of hitting or avoiding it. We chose to confront the hole, but when Steve and Clive both giggled nervously, I questioned our decision. We hit the pocket perfectly and were held in a backwave, jostling and jiggling both back and forth, and side to side. We were bucking and were seriously threatened to be thrown, laughing and hooting the while, but held tight until we were spit out. I claimed victory over the guides who said we were goners!

 

The last two rapids, numbers 20 and 21, "Nice" and "Easy", were just that.

 

Afterward we pulled left to the shore and started a long haul out of the gorge. The walk was very steep and in parts assisted by very crude steps made like a ladder of branches laid straight up the slope. Unfortunately, our shoes had yet to be delivered from the transport vehicle and we did the first one-third in bare feet which hurt on the sharp rock.

 

At a hut on top our lunch and drinks were waiting. From the position was a nice view of the gorge meandering away and bending left out of sight. A fairly large transport truck carried us and equipment over a very rough and dusty track to Livingstone. Robyn and I talked to Shane who told us he would be married in January and would live in Swaziland, working in the game parks revamping the accounting systems. His fiancee, currently teaching in Johannesburg, already had a position in Swaziland. He spoke mostly about kayaking, how he and Steve travelled through the States, Canada, and Europe, hitting as many days and different rivers as possible. Shane had a gleam in his eye when he explained that kayaking is the best way to see a country, they saw wilds that only kayakers could, and they ran river sections never before navigated. These guys were beyond hooked, and it sounded wonderful.

 

While Robyn would grow bruises over her body from the mad voyage, my only injury was attained while climbing into the truck before the rafting. Both of us would half chidingly moan over our pains for days.

 

I was lounging in the room after a shower and heard an incredible crashing nearby. As I watched an elephant took down a forty-foot tree just over the perimeter fence. Why are such beautiful creatures so destructive?

 

We watched rugby at Explorer's and Stuart joined us. The New Zealand All Blacks beat Scotland.

 

Mo 10/25/99 - Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

 

I jostled Robyn awake early for a two hour walk in Victoria Falls National Park. We spotted impala immediately, then waked past Big Tree, the huge baobab, and onto the trail left along the river. We soon heard a heavy wildlife noise, I guessed it was hippo, Robyn guessed lion. Either waay we chickened and returned to the road to find the Big Tree guard asking where we were heading, "Don't walk down there, there are lion, leapord, and a wounded buffalo". I asked about the buffalo and he replied that a woman tourist was injured and the buffalo shot and wounded but nt killed. He then offered to show us a lion lair with a pile of animal bones. We walked into the bush for a few minutes but before reaching the lair, a large bull elephant with ears wide apart filled our view and our guide passed us running. We were quick to follow.

 

Around noontime we went into the proper for errands including email.

 

Vic Falls has three email shops. To post my notes I needed to 1) transfer them onto a computer then 2) spell check with Word and 3) convert the notes to HTML. One shop disabled the floppy drives, one didn't have Word, and the last didn't have HTML conversion in Word. I was very, very frustrated! By the end of the two hour mess I had only spell checked and downloaded text formatted files to the website.

 

When we reached Victoria Falls, I eagerly told Robyn about the colonial Victoria Falls Hotel (1904). It's an old and fancy hotel with a great view of the Zambezi Bridge. I changed into pants in a restroom and we went for tea.

 

Afternoon tea (Z$160) included a choice of tea and an assortment of cakes on a three-tired platter. We sat on the veranda over looking manicured lawns and gardens, under great flowering trees, and stared across the Zambezi River and Zambezi Bridge. Bungee jumpers were smaller than ants but discernable. The dress of people was mixed between backpacker and colonial ala safari. I had hoped for more of the later. The scene was very enjoyable, the waiters were in tightly pressed whites, the hotel was smartly detailed and crisp, and baboons with mangos in mouth climbed from the roof through the trees to the ground to be chased by staff with sticks.

 

Stuart from England found as after tea sitting on a bench on the lawn. We sat and exchanged travel stories, especially notable was a barge trip between Kinshasa and Kisangani (Zaire, now called Democratic Republic of Congo) he made on the Congo River aboard "Le Grand Pousseur", a series of barges tied together with tug. Stuart called it a floating city, with thousands aboard. He met two other travellers and together they setup a freestanding tent on deck in 3rd class. People traded on board and through the ports - pigs, goats, crocodiles, tortoise, and monkeys. A man caught stealing was shaved, painted white, and tied to a post for the duration. The voyage was to take ten days, but an additional six days was needed to free the river train from shallow banks.

 

Tu 10/26/99 - Victoria Falls

 

We've spent too much time in Victoria Falls now although Robyn is very happy just to belonging. Anything within reasonable cost has been done and only errands are left. Again I attempted to finish my internet posting and walked away frustrated.

 

Our sights were set for at least one fun venture for the day, and that was to visit the well established and huge Elephant Hills Resort. During my las visit eight years ago, the hotel was still closed from damage during the eighties civil war. Now, it's bac to a high class albeit elephant colored hotel overlooking a golf course visited by many African animals. We sat in the bar or looking the dry greens and simply gazed. Below kids splashed in a pool, on the course wathogs an bok wandered but moved slowly away for the late afternoon golfers. Afterward we hitched into town to dine again at Explorers.

 

We 10/27/99 - Victoria Falls

 

So, now day three with posting notes to the internet. I found my floppy has an error with chapter 27 and I never copied the latest chapter 25 onto it. Damn! The other three chapters are now completed and posted.

 

Although I was tired of Victoria Falls after six days, I felt nostalgic for the famous spot and asked Robyn if we could walk out to the bridge. I had to see the Zambezi River and its rapids again. I needed to catch as much of Victoria Falls as possible once more. I wanted to watch nervously smiling people bungee from the 111 meter bridge also.

 

Once again we walked through the heat to Zimbabwe immigration and then on the curvy road to the bridge. Young boys tried to sell frozen flavored ice and we each had one beside us, Robyn with Innocent and Jimmy with me. Innocent asked Robyn where she was from and rattled off, "John Howard is your prime minister, before him was Paul Keating. And there is Skippy the Kangaroo, and koalas and emus. There is 18 million people in Australia." When I told Jimmy I was from America, the reply was, "George Washington was your first president, now Bill Clinton. And there is Paula Jones and Monica Lewinsky."

 

From the bridge we gazed along the river gorges to the Victoria Falls Hotel in the distance atop a sheer canyon wall before the river bent away from view. Near the bungee jumping station is an old black sign read, "Welcome to Zambia", and I wondered when I would ever be back to Zambia.

 

We saw a few people jump including a large women who created a stir because the crew couldn't find the harness extension and a very fit middle aged man with his wife. Robyn and I whispered to ourselves that we should torment the wife with comments as the husband jumped, "I've near seen anyone twist like that before", and "Gee, the cord wasn't frayed like that yesterday". But all I risked to say while standing near her was, "Where did he go?", a take off on "Something About Mary", when his first bounce brought him under the bridge and out of sight. The wife ignored me.

 

Robyn's last request for Victoria Falls was another afternoon tea at the Victoria Falls Hotel and I gladly agreed. Since the tea last time was filled with very casual dressed travellers, we didn't exert ourselves and change for the occasion. We were scruffy in worn shorts, old t-shirts, and open sandals. Each afternoon during our stay was a bit dark and more threatening than the last and finally the sky spat down as we walked from the bridge. Since Robyn was raised in a similar hot climate near Sydney, she relished the coolness the dark skies and sprinkes brought.

 

We sat under cover on the veranda and stared from our three tiered platter of pastries to the dark sky over the gorge and bridge, then back at our sweet feast. The lighting turned spectacular when the low afternoon sun behind us lit the lawn, large colorful trees, and hotel, and the distant view over Zambia was still under black sky. Occasional lightening punctuated the scene.

 

Robyn and I returned to camp for dinner with our Which Way overland crew, Roy the driver and Claire the organizer, and a couple staff from other overlands. Overland stories started with very recent marriage engagements, a divorce, and moved to the more morose. Roy told of a Dutch girl on one of his tours that committed suicide in the Okavango. A man, say Brian, told a more detailed story of a man who fell in the Fish River Canyon while videotaping. He hit his head and was unconscious while Brian ran up and down the gorge trying to sort the situation out. The man's wife was there and hysterical. Brian borrowed their hired car to make the nearest town and being exhausted asked a female client to drive. Halfway to town she rolled the car, shattering the windows and blowing all the tires. Eight hours after the accident, before the man could be air lifted by helicopter, he died. The last story was told by a girl working an all Dutch group and was prompted by our Mombasa to Zanzibar dhow story. A couple were aboard, the guy rose during the night to pee, and that was the last the girlfriend saw of him. She spent days on the mainland organizing the consulates and communicating with the family.

 

-end-

 

---Other Stories---

 

- An Englishman was eaten by six lions near Chalala, observed

 

- Many stories of government corruption - President Mugabe wife spent $3m in Harrods, London to outfit castle in England

 

- Mugabe, fifth richest man in world, uses Harare police force to manage intersections for his motorcade, heavily armed, expendable cars in front may crash and cavalcade keeps on going.

 

- When Mugabe took office, Shona attacked Matabele with tanks in Bulawayo, kids on way to school witnessed it.

 

- Cheesman had to shot two buffalo in front garden because they were a threat. That liked the nicely watered green grass and plants.

 

- Watched video of two lions stuck under rhino head. Took many hurs to dart and free them.

 

---Things to do on return tri to Zim---

 

- canoe trip on Zambezi below dam to Mana Pools.

 

- abseil / gorge swing / flying fox at vic falls

 

- Hange National Park

 

----Books suggested by Stuart:

 

- "Sheltering desert" by Heno Martin about 2 Germans hiding in Namibia desert during war

 

- "Never Follow the Wolf", Helao Shityuwet

 

-end-of-document--