The Plan
Friday, April 22: Depart for Lusaka, Zambia at 6:00 a.m. (13 hour bus ride & border crossing). Arrive at Lusaka Backpackers. Meet Mr. Nedders. One dancer, one would-be thief and two concerned friends.
Saturday, April 23: Walk through the streets and markets of the capital of Lusaka. Eat dried caterpillar. Dance.
Sunday, April 24: Depart Lusaka for Livingstone, Zambia (6 hour bus ride). Indian food Easter dinner.
Monday, April 25: Visit Victoria Falls, one of the 7 Great Natural Wonders of the World.
Tuesday, April 26: Depart Livingstone for Chobe Park, Botswana. Safari tour.
Wednesday, April 27: Safari Drive in Chobe Park and return to Zambia. Funky fajitas.
Thursday, April 28: Repel, zip line and jump off of sheer cliffs above the Zambezi River. Drinks at sunset beside the Zambezi River at one of Livingstone’s five star hotels.
Friday, April 29: Barter, trade and buy African curios. Dance.
Saturday, April 30: Depart Livingstone for Lusaka, Zambia (6 hour bus ride). Too many laughs. Chitenje galor. Eat dinner with a bazillionaire.
Sunday, May 1: ‘May Day’ Depart Lusaka at 5:00 a.m. (make that 6:30 a.m. African time) for return to Lilongwe, Malawi.
Monday, May 2: Track down Samosa Man. Celebration for Jessi’s goodbye (tio nana) party in Area 14 Big Sister House.
The Details
For me traveling to any new destination is always full of excitement and eager energy. A 13-hour bus ride could not take that away from me. When we finally arrived at our lodge I was delighted to find a beer selection that did not include Carlsburg Green. Over a few drinks we met the man, the myth and the legend only to be known as ‘Nedders’. It’s not that he had particularly great stories or a quick wit about him, it was more his wobbly gait, goofy smile and greasy mop that made him central to our conversations.
In the morning we set out to wander around the streets of Lusaka, past rivers of plastic bottles, black market dealers, food vendors, stylish Rihanna want to bes and ripe fruit stands. [Side note: As I write this entry the power has once again been cut from all residences to conserve energy, so I type by candlelight and find it comical that my roommate is forced to eat a dry piece of bread for dinner due to a lack of cooking power. The novelty of not having electricity has not been lost on me. Now to continue…] The city of Lusaka, as compared to Lilongwe, has better infrastructure in the form of paved roads, streetlights, banking systems and overall business and organization, which one might say has both positive and negative aspects. Keen to spend a little Zambian Kwacha I stuck my ATM card into a Barclay’s bank to withdraw some local currency. In front of the ATM I made harmless jokes about the machine eating my card. I did one of my signature dance moves expecting money to be counted and delivered but before I knew it, my card was ‘captured’ not to be spit back out. I laughed in disbelief and kept on laughing because in the end I accepted a little help from my friends and moved on. ATM machine, 0-Me, 1. After that fiasco some newly assembled locals toured us around the city and later on showed us a good time in the active dance clubs that are the spirit of the Zambian nightlife. I believe track 17 or track 34 is my favorite.
A six-hour bus ride, some nsima and a sausage roll later we were in Livingstone and sporadically swimming with all of our clothes on trying to help a grown man learn to swim. Easter dinner was spent passing naan bread and tikka massala at a delicious Indian food restaurant. There were no colorful eggs or chocolate bunnies involved but that was a welcomed variation to the American version of a Christ rising celebration. The very next morning we would find ourselves at Victoria Falls or Mosi-o-Tunya (the Smoke that Thunders) as the locals call it. The 38,430 cubic feet of water that flow over the falls every second creates a cacophony of booming sounds that can be felt in the hollows of your chest. Just being in the presence of that amount of water as it plummets 360 feet to the Zambezi River below is awe-inspiring. The APA formatting, paper writing, social worker in me wants to cite the previous facts about Victoria Falls but it is my creative being that tells me to bury the citation nerd. Done. The first glimpse of the falls spread smiles across each and everyone’s faces, both young and old, toothless and topless, native and foreign. The force of the water spilling over into the gorge below created a cloud of mist and rain so thick that the falls themselves were only visible in short bursts of clarity. It is documented that on average the mist rises 1,300 feet above the falls and can be seen from over 30 miles away. The sun shining above mingled with the water to create an angelic rainbow halo over the falls and set the perfect backdrop for wet, glorious pictures thanks to a waterproof camera. To revel in the natural power of the water and the energy it inspires makes one feel alive. Worth every minute of the 19 hour journey.
Being only a short jaunt to the border of Botswana and Chobe Park, a reserve with one of the largest concentrations of game in all of Africa, was too tempting to deny. A double decker boat ride down the Chobe river gave us a different vantage point of all of the animals that drink life from its waters. We could see elephants, hippos, crocodiles, gazelles, cape buffalos and kudus all looking for their next meal along the banks of the swift flowing river. Again on land and in the safari vehicles Mutu, our safari guide, drove us into the park. No quicker had we entered the bush had I spotted a dung beetle rolling a perfectly sculpted piece of elephant poop through the sand. In my last experience in the bush the one element I missed was the dung beetle and now here it was, right in front of me in all of its glory. The flawlessly round ball this beetle was able to sculpt out of dung in order to feed its young was nothing short of shitastic. My enthusiasm sparked a riveting conversation about excrement that was interrupted so marvelously by a herd of elephants not feet from the truck. Wrinkly and harsh looking skin clung to the broad shoulders of mama elephants, baby elephant calves dug into the sand mimicking their mothers movements, papa elephants scooped water into their mouths with their wily trunks and all appeared content. All those except the adolescent male elephants who had taken a disliking to our presence and flared their ears wide and stomped their blockish feet on the ground to display their dominance. Mutu did not seem concerned, but their proximity to the vehicle and their pure size and strength had me a bit apprehensive. As they say, ‘all’s well that ends well’ and when the orange sun was setting on our day it was indeed all-well AND then some with a cherry on top.
A semi-circle of chairs surrounded by meticulously placed tents made up camp for the night and gave me a warm sense of cozy as we sat under the stars in the middle of the Botswana bush. Over a campfire and some boxed wine we heard a tale of an Englishman who rode a bicycle 360 days from northern Alaska clear down to Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. The adventure inspired a pinky swear and a promise of future bicycle escapades of our own. Thank you for that James, I shall be reading your book.
Waking up to an African sunrise and laughter caused by the regurgitation of the previous evenings shenanigans is a great way to start a day. A pride of lions woke up to the rising sun as well and we caught views of them despite how well the yellow grasses camouflaged their fur. A 47-year-old man and veteran safari guide with a gravelly, baritone voice the likes of Barry White told us that Chobe park is home to over 112,000 elephants. Indeed the perfect place for my friend Alex to fulfill her childhood dream of viewing elephants up close and personal. We left having seen everything we could have wished and with me owing Jessi around eight sodas for lost jinx duals. I did NOT lose that double jinx in the truck-I mean it! To be continued…
The second installment of “This Road Leads to Victoria Falls” will hit stands shortly so until then I leave you with this thought: Just because the site of goat carcasses being strung up to eat, borehole water-pumps producing water, massive baskets loaded with tomatoes balancing on heads and hole in the ground toilets have become common place I will never think it usual or take for granted the random hugs I receive from children in camp. There is nothing ordinary about having a child, innocent and curious, covered in dirt and dressed in tattered clothes, run at full speed then realizing just in the nick of time they are headed straight for you as they leave the ground in a superman style leap to embrace you with innocent abandonment. The rate at which we spin around makes me feel intoxicated. Intoxicated not so much with dizziness as with great happiness.
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