Compared to the Lower Zambezi, the still waters of the wide Upper Zambezi gave me the feeling of being on a lake rather than the mighty Zambezi that had tossed me around like a rag doll yesterday. However, adrenaline still coursed through my veins as I kept my eyes out for crocodiles and hippos surfacing near the canoe.
The morning was chilly, especially in the open bed of the truck carrying us and the canoes. We drove about an hour or so from town, into the Zambezi National Park. The road wasn’t too bad and the scenery was about person-high bushes, shrubs, and the scattered tall tree. It was mostly brown – it is winter and the dry season down here – and we saw a small herd of water buffalo checking us out as we drove slowly by.
At the river, we disturbed a group of baboons, but otherwise, we sat on the beautiful banks of the not-so-mighty-looking Zambezi. Here, the river is wide and dotted with hundreds of small, sandy islands that disappear at the height of the rainy season. For now, we enjoyed out breakfast and a safety brief before going for a lazy paddle.
I felt a little disappointed at first. We didn’t get on the water until the sun was well above the horizon and we didn’t see too many animals at first. Just a few birds, really. Then, our guide spotted a few hippos. These guys can move quick in the water and are pretty territorial, so we gave them wide berth.
A little later, we rounded the corner and, voila!, two elephants at the water’s edge. We quietly maneuvered the canoes so we could watch and take photos. I would say the elephants were no more than 50 to 100 meters away. Next time, I’ll be sure to bring my laser range finder to give you the exact distance.
We saw a few more elephants on the far bank of the river. You could tell they had been in the water because they were two toned. Light for about the top one-sixth of their body and dark the rest of the way down. When I saw the elephants, I felt the trip was worth it.
Just being outside in the sun, paddling on the river was great. The air is clean and the water cool – although you don’t go in because you might tempt a crocodile to nibble gently on your toes. I could easily have spent another day or two on the river, just watching the banks go by.
I love the outdoors and the adventure activities that put you close to nature. I can’t think of anything that puts you closer to the power of the mighty Zambezi (a.k.a., the Slam-bezi) than hopping in a raft with people I don’t know to paddle through some serious rapids. If you can think of something better, let me know.
On the Zambezi, there is low-water and high-water rafting. Apparently in the first ten rapids, there is a class 6 rapid – which means that your insurance company doesn’t provide liability coverage if you, a commercial enterprise, try to run through it with customers. To run the entire rivers, the rafting companies have their clients walk around this particular class 6 rapid. When the water is high, though, there is no place to walk, so the companies start at rapid number 11. In perhaps two-weeks time, they’ll be starting at rapid number 1. Ah well. Next time, on my five day float.
Despite starting on rapid 11, the river was great! The first wave that splashed into my face – maybe it smashed into my face – nearly knocked out my contact lens and had me sputtering and coughing after I swallowed some of the Zambezi. Naturally, I worried about parasites, toxins, blah, blah, blah. But two days later, I’m still alive.
After the first rapid, it was brilliant the rest of the way down. My favorite was number 17, where we rode the wave train up and down. That was such a rush. What was disappointing was my lack of stamina. Wow, I felt so weak. So weak. I could barely paddle for more than a few minutes at a time. Afterwards, I was wheezing, straining, and wanting to cry for my mommy. OK, it wasn’t that bad, but I definitely felt weak and stiff.
Amazingly, though, the guide decided to put me in the front. I don’t know if that was because he noticed how weak I was and the front doesn’t matter too much, or if he noticed that I actually pay attention to the other guy paddling and try to paddle in sync. There were two Ozzies, two Pommies, me, a Zim, a Zam, and our South Korean rafting guide (not really, our guide Colgate grew up around Vic Falls, but told us he was South Korean as a joke).
Colgate was a trip. So full of life, singing, and just ready to help everyone have a fun, safe time down the Slambezi. We went down the river with another raft – one steered and powered by the guide only. We switched guides at a calm point in the river. Colgate managed to convince the Belgian guys in the other boat to flop on their stomachs right at the bow of the raft. I think he told them it was a safety drill. He demonstrated, then had them practice a few times. On the last forward flop they did, he used the oars to quickly push the boat backwards. End result, they’re flopping forward, boat is moving backward … and voila, in the water. We laughed hard watching it. The Belgian guys in the boat laughed even harder!
At the end of the trip, we had to climb out of the gorge, probably 150m from the river back to the top. There, before us, was a veritable open air market of goods to buy for a shoe or a t-shirt or sun glasses and a little cash. Perhaps other people don’t know the value of their goods, but giving an $80 pair of sandals for a $2 item and giving cash does not appear to be the height of an astute bargainer.
I bought a couple things and thought it was reasonable, but I suspect I still over payed. I still loved the day.
I’m sitting in the Jungle Junction restaurant located in the Victoria Falls Hotel. I have a stunning view of the Falls’ mist and I can’t tell you how gorgeous the day is, with clear blue skies, light breeze, and nice, nice temperature.
When you’re inside the compound, it’s easy to forget and not acknowledge the reality of what surrounds you. You have about 13,000 residents in Vic Falls town. The industry here is tourism. Unfortunately, there are few tourists. I walked around the Kingdom Hotel, a big, Vegas-like structure with a casino, shops, big dining area, and lots of rooms. It definitely feels like an all-enclosed resort where you don’t need to leave for any of your needs, except for viewing the Falls in a helicopter or doing the bungee jump. Inside, though, it was empty.
I talked with two different workers in the gift shop, where they sell outrageously priced stuff. Well, they’re like US tourist-place prices. A hat for $20, a small souvenir picture book for $12, and postcards for $1. I couldn’t bring myself to buy anything, but I felt bad for the workers. At 10.30am, I was the first person to walk into the shop.
If you choose to leave the confines of your compound on foot, the hawkers descend upon you. This morning someone who obviously smoked more than a fair share of weed came to offer me trinkets – stone carved representations of the Zambezi river god called nyaminyami. I told him, and the guy with him, that I wasn’t interested, yet, the stoned guy with his glassy eyed look thought that perhaps no meant yes, so he offered me Zim dollars instead – a crisp one trillion note. I was rude to the guy – I asked if he was deaf because I had already said that I wasn’t interested in anything. He then glared at me until he decided I really meant I wasn’t going to buy anything. He left with, “You come and you don’t want to give us anything. It’s just like you …” the rest I don’t remember, but he was really saying you’re a white tourist, so you must give me money – you owe it to me.
Other people have tried to use a similar tactic. First they try to be friendly, then they try to use guilt to make you buy something. They may be smooth talkers in their own mind, but they have yet to learn that business is about relationships and until you’re in the business of hostile take overs, getting angry with people who might at some point in the future be inclined to buy something is not a way to generate business.
But it’s these interactions that you deal with, when you walk through town to and from anywhere, that tend to wear you down. There is always a Zim dollar to be traded – “Five dollars for one trillion.” Um, I can easily get three trillion in change from the bus drivers in Harare. I ‘m certainly not giving you $5. It gets old real fast.
Despite how old it gets, I’m not oblivious to why. These guys – and they’re all guys – are hustling for anything. They’re all young, too. They’re not old men and they’re not young kids, they’re maybe the 16 – 30 year-olds who don’t have work. Life is tough for pretty much everyone in Zimbabwe, job or not, so I can’t blame them for trying to hustle the tourists. I try to be firm, but not rude.
I felt bad about being rude to the stoner. I saw his compatriot – Temba or Trust in English – and apologized for being rude. He said, “No problem. That one is crazy. He smokes to much weed and drinks too much beer. If you don’t want to do business, no problem. We are just trying to make money.” I asked about the t-shirts, everyone wants old clothes, “Do you sell them or keep them?” “We keep them. We can’t afford to buy new ones. Some of the mean ones, like that guy, they try to sell them.”
A little later, I saw the stoner and apologized. He wasn’t interested at the time, but later in the day, he smiled and laughed with me when I saw him.
I return my attention to the gorgeous view in front of me. The green, manicured grass being watered as I type is a good metaphor for the compound. Where the sprinklers reach, it’s green and carpet like. Just outside the reach of the sprinklers is the dry, brown natural vegetation of this area at this time of year. The boundary is clear and abrupt. It’s just as abrupt as walking outside the gates of your compound and onto the streets of Vic Falls.
