Greetings one and all. This message is coming to you from Lusaka, the
nerve centre of quiet, peaceful and more or less desolate Zambia, a Southern
African country just north of Zimbabwe. We landed in Zambia somewhat by
accident. You see, it all started at the Zimbabwean border not so long
ago.
As we left South Africa with our hearts warmed by the hospitality of
its people, particularly the Bekkers and Viersters (noted in prior emails),
and entered Zim a little wary due to the much-publicized conflict arising
out of its recent elections, we were greeted by a friendly Zimbabwean
border official who asked whether we desired a single or multiple-entry
visa. We weighed the pro's and con's: Sali, the nest-builder that
she is, decided it best that we pass through Zim as quickly as possible,
lest we lost our opportunity to build our future nest in a post-election
squabble; I, the budget-minded one, found it morally reprehensible that
we might waste funds on the more expensive multiple-entry option when
we had no intention of returning to Zimbabwe. So, for differing reasons,
we found common ground and unanimously opted for a single-entry visa.
The border official dutifully completed the paperwork in triplicate and,
upon completion, asked our plans in Zimbabwe.
We came for two reasons, we told him: to see Victoria Falls, one of
the seven natural wonders of the world, and to relax on Lake Kariba, considered
a gem of Southern Africa. With great pleasure, our friend pulled out a
map of Zimbabwe and outlined possible routes. Only then did we realize
that the easiest way to go from Vic Falls to Lake Kariba is to transit
through little-known Zambia. In response to this geography lesson, we
decided it best to purchase the multiple-entry visa and go along the suggested
itinerary. Oh, so sorry, we were told, but he had already completed the
paperwork for our single-entry document. Oh well, live and learn, we figured,
and we left for Victoria Falls not entirely sure of our future plans.
Vic Falls is all it was cracked up to be: a roaring waterfall of immense
power that kicks up mist which engulfs the verdant foliage and all nearby
tourists; high above the spray, a rainbow arches atop the chasm that forms
the Falls. Noting that the surrounding greenery enjoys sunshine and water
in abundance, Sali confided that if she were a plant, Vic Falls is where
she would like to live.
During our stay at the Falls we learned that Lake Kariba, bounded not
only by Zimbabwe but Zambia as well, is equally beautiful on the Zambian
side–though not nearly as prepared for tourism. Bidding goodbye to our
newfound friend–the country of Zimbabwe–we sought the cool blue waters
of Lake Kariba from the Zambian coast.
As for Zimbabwe and the oft-discussed strife, we found tension in the
air but nothing more. Upon discussion with whites and blacks, we found
distrust of the government and concern for the future by many. But we
also found great pride among its peoples and appreciation for the beauty
of the land by all of its inhabitants. While South Africans may decry
the happenings in Zimbabwe, Zimbabweans will quickly point out that the
number of violent attacks on Zimbabwean farmers at the peak of violent
times is surpassed tenfold by the number of attacks on city goers in Johannesburg
at any time of the year.
There is famine in Zimbabwe, or so we had heard, so we stocked up on
dry goods before we entered the country, only to be greeted by well-stocked
markets at the major stopping points. There is a shortage of petrol in
Zimbabwe, we were told, so we entered the country with three full jerry
cans. Admittedly, the petrol was of pure quality, causing our car to spit
and sputter uphill, but petrol was abundant and cost us half what it cost
in South Africa. Indeed, we did not use our stock of petrol until we entered
serene, under-developed Zambia, where fuel costs three times what it costs
in Zim.
In sum, our tour of Zimbabwe shot bullets through the misperceptions
we had heard about the country, leaving holes in the blanket of fears
we clung to upon arrival. Of course, that is not to say that the trouble
is over in Zimbabwe (or anywhere in Africa, for that matter). As reverberations
of empowerment spread through this continent, Zimbabwe and the rest of
Africa will surely experience strife as each country settles into the
foundations of its nationhood.
Okay, I'll get off my soapbox and move on to telling you about Zambia.
After a few days on Lake Kariba, where I honed my fire-building techniques,
Sali washed the dickens out of our clothes and we both improved our butterfly
stroke at the camp's swimming pool, we set out for a campsite along
the mighty Zambezi (Africa's fourth largest river behind the Nile,
the Congo, and the River Niger). Driving as far as we could go on public
land, we found the perfect spot, where the Zambezi meets the Chongwe River
and wildlife abounds from both sides.
Entering this idyllic retreat, I half-expected to see a distinguished-looking
man in a white three-piece suit and his half-pint sidekick welcome us
to Fantasy Island. Instead, Ann and Bruce, a couple of expats from South
Africa living their dreams in the untamed bush of Zambia as managers of
the Chongwe River Lodge, directed us to our campsite along the water.
Outfitted with a private ablution block (i.e., open-air toilet and shower,
each fenced in with thatched walls) and a campsite on the bank of the
river, our temporary home could best be described as designed for rustic
comfort. The plumbing in the toilet worked great and the shower was prepared
upon our request by a worker who carted, via the use of a wheelbarrow,
tubs of hot water which he then poured into a 60-litre drum hoisted overhead
through the use of a pulley system.
Nocturnal sounds at the campsite included chirping birds, grunting hippos,
screeching baboons and an occasional fish breaking the water's surface
to feed. Shining a flashlight across the placid river, one can see brawny
hippos powering through the water and the creepy, glowing red eyes of
crocodiles. In daylight, elephants traipse through the camp, tugging at
trees and ingesting all the shrubbery they can stuff into their hungry
mouths. Fiercely herbivorous, elephants eat about 200 kilograms per day
(almost 450 pounds) of leaves, branches and roots. In the hot sun, hippos
remain submerged in the water up to their eyeballs for most of the day,
bobbing up for a periodic breath, and bounce on and off the land sometime
after nightfall.
As for our interactions with the elephants, they were nothing short
of spectacular. Literally, they walked among us. Sali and I were drinking
our morning coffee one day when one slurped from the river not ten feet
from us. The only danger with these generally gentle beasts is if you
enter their comfort zone (probably about 35 feet in radius) without permission.
After a while, it becomes not too hard to read the animal, so it is unlikely
to be confused by its inclinations. However, I did mistake a never-seen-before
elephant with the one that Sali and I had met over coffee. That exchange
turned out to be a frightful one for yours truly, for when the elephant
found me, a stranger, entering his space without proper invitation, he
quickly turned from mild-mannered leaf eater to severely agitated wild
beast.
Looking like he was going to stomp me like a grape, this 2-ton wild
animal charged. Maybe it was because of my kindly demeanour, maybe it
was because of my devilish charm, or maybe it was because I ran like hell.
Whatever the reason, the big guy decided I wasn't worth it and stopped
after a long moment, and I quickly made my way to the loo.
Oh, I nearly forget about Silkie, the domesticated Antelope that Bruce
and Ann have taken under their wing ever since its mother discarded it
at birth due to a cleft hoof. In the bush, any deformity is viewed as
too costly to the rest of the group, and the animal is left to fend for
itself. But thanks to Ann and Bruce and modern medicine, a vet repaired
Silkie’s hoof. However, having become habituated to humans, she
likes our company and sticks to the campsite. Silkie was kind enough to
chaperone us on all of our nature walks.
Tourism is growing rapidly in Zambia and everyone has their finger on
the pulse of dollars coursing through the veins of the tourist trade.
On our second day, the local chieftainess (yes, a woman–duly elected
by her tribes people), made an impromptu visit on the lodge to spy on
its developments. We don't know the business arrangement exactly,
but we do know that she leased the land for 99 years and keeps a watch
on it now and then. When the chieftainess arrives, everyone jumps to attention,
bowing and scraping as much as possible.
After several days walking along the Zambezi, talking to the elephants
and searching for hippos breaking the surface of the water, we bid farewell
to Ann and Bruce–a more amiable couple you will be hard to find–and
headed for the somewhat bustling capital of Zambia, Lusaka, which is where
we are now.
Michael and his wife have been driving through Africa since March 2002.
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