Whatever happens, don’t run

May 20, 2009

Our train ride took us to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, the nearest city to Matabo National
Park, known to the locals as ‘Matopos’. This park is home to one of the best collections of San rock paintings, many of which are over 20,000 years old.


The San are better known as ‘bushmen’, the same ones found in the Kalahari Desert (which covers much of Botswana), and featured in the movie ‘The Gods Must be Crazy’. The San are a small-statured people, who traditionally lived in the brushy flat landscape that extends across all of Botswana. They are nomadic hunter-gathers who speak in a distinctive sounding language that utilizes lots of clicking sounds. The San have lived in this area for tens of thousands of years, and often dwelled among the many large bounders that litter the landscape. In many of these sites, they painted amazingly accurate pictures of animals and people, which have persisted to this day among the sheltered areas.

We came to Matabo to see the rock paintings, but we got more than we bargained for. Because the park is fifty kilometers outside of town and requires a 4×4 to get around, we made arrangements to go with a guide named Andy from Black Rhino Safaris. Andy is Zimbabwean, born and raised. His family lives in Zimbabwe, and they have survived the recent hardships that have devastated the country. Andy is a self-declared ‘professional hunter’. These days he is primarily a guide on photographic safaris, rather than hunting safaris, but he has killed at least one of almost everything there is to kill in Africa.

In addition to the rock paintings, the other reason that people come to Matabo National Park is to see the rhinos. Andy said that he could take us, ‘to see some rock paintings in the early morning, then once that was out of the way, we could go looking for rhino’. It sounded like a good combination to us, but we really hadn’t anticipated what was involved.

Just before noon, Andy stopped the vehicle, and called us out to look at the dirt road. He showed us where there were fresh rhino tracks. You could see the pattern from their skin imprinted into the soft sand. He told us that, ‘Several of them laid here during the night or early morning.’ At this point, he got his binoculars and rifle from the truck, and we set out on foot, hunting for rhino.

Andy was an impressive tracker, following sometimes imperceptible tracks on soft and hard ground, through the grass and the bush. He turned and twisted, gesturing with his arms as he followed the smallest of indicators. He showed us how to tell the difference between white rhino and black rhino tracks. He stopped to feel their dung and told us how old it was (based on how crusty and how warm). He could tell the age of a rhino track by assessing the overlapping tracks from other animals, and whether these other mammals, birds, and bugs were nocturnal or not. This guy was a real African bush man, right out of the old safari movies.

As we entered the brush, he stopped to whisper the only safety instructions, “Walk in single file, don’t talk, and whatever happens, don’t run.” That was it. Patrick wondered whether this should perhaps have been discussed previously, allowing time for a few questions. But Andy was hot on the track, so that was all we got.

After about twenty minutes, we heard a noise, and peering into the dense brush, Andy said that there were two white rhino in there. We saw only leaves and branches. Nothing resembling a rhino. He signaled us to wait while he went ahead to investigate. Before he left us, he whispered, “If things go really wrong, climb a tree”. Diane looked around, and noticed a severe lack trees that looked both climbable and rhino-proof. Patrick wondered how he was supposed to get to a tree without running.

From fifteen meters away, making signals like the Special Forces, Andy indicated that there were four rhinos, and that we should follow him. We circled around the rhinos, trying to find a vantage point where we could see them through the foliage. We found a spot with a good view of one rhino, about twenty meters away. The others were somewhere in the bush, and we kept looking around and behind us just in case. Presumably Andy knew where they were. Andy indicated that Patrick could step forward to take pictures of the visible rhino.


Here is the only rhino picture that turned out. In case you’re wondering, the rhino is facing the left, and its head is obscured by foliage. Although you can’t see it in this picture, Patrick was surprised at how long and sharp looking its horn was. Apparently the horns of rhinos in captivity get worn down, but in the wild they can be up to 4 feet long!

When Diane adjusted her stance to get a better view stepping on a twig in the process, the rhino snapped his (or perhaps her, we have no idea) head up to stare straight at us. After a few seconds, the rhino started to run directly towards us, accompanied by two others that appeared from nowhere.

We stepped back, and Andy started to yell. As the three rhinos closed in on us, his volume level increased. There was the slightest hint of desperation in his voice as he reached his crescendo. He also shouted to us, “Don’t Run!”, which was perfectly timed, as that was exactly what we wanted to do. Andy raised his rifle and removed the safety. Diane melted into bush beside us, trying to get very small. The rhinos were running at us full speed, and were within twenty five feet. At what seemed the last possible moment, they swerved around us to our left.

Afterwards, Andy asked if we were OK. He apologized and said, “That’s not what normally happens.” He also said, “Another two steps closer and I would have fired a warning shot.” Looking back, Patrick seriously doubts whether there was enough time to warn the rhinos, and still get off another shot with his bolt action rifle if they didn’t stop. Andy surmised that these white rhinos, which are typically more docile, felt trapped between us and a creek behind them (that he wasn’t aware of), and perhaps couldn’t see us clearly enough to know where we were and how many of us. Rhinos apparently have poor eyesight from straight on, with eyes located on the sides of their head and large, especially pointy looking horns blocking their forward vision. Andy then said, “I think this would be a good time to go for lunch. We can track some more rhino in the afternoon.”

We had lunch overlooking a hippo pond, surrounded by a troop of overly bold baboons. After a short drive, we again started walking to find rhinos. Diane was definitely torn. On the one hand, she hoped to see more rhino, but she was thoroughly afraid to do so. Perhaps we could find some well-behaved white rhino and view them from a distance?

Andy explained that we were heading into an area frequented by black rhino. They are smaller, faster, and much more aggressive than white rhinos. Andy said that if the rhinos that ran at us in the morning had been black rhinos, he would have needed to shoot. Apparently when black rhinos feel threatened, they charge first, and ask questions later. Actually, they don’t ask questions. Patrick wonders which of the three he would have shot, and whether the other two would have noticed before they impaled us.

We were walking up a dry creek bed. Andy said, “We’ll circle around through the rocks on the right. That’s where the rhinos often sleep”. Patrick was hoping that they slept there at night, and not during the afternoon, assuming that black rhinos would be even more aggressive when woken prematurely from their afternoon nap.

Andy stopped and said, “Can you smell them”? He then loaded another two gigantic bullets into his rifle, and said, “I always like to have a couple extra in the magazine when I’m going into black rhino territory”. Diane and Patrick looked at each other with raised eyebrows. We wove between the closely spaced rocks and trees, and Andy showed us the flattened places where the rhino rest. The terrain was gradually narrowing, and we dropped back down to the river bed. Later Andy told another guide that he was pretty sure the rhinos were there, but didn’t feel safe proceeding into such close quarters.

So we walked back to the vehicle and drove a short distance to an open area filled with eight foot high grass. Does grass even grow that high in Canada? We pushed through the grass following the path of least resistance, where other animals (presumably rhino) had passed before. Patrick was thinking of a joke:

Q. How do you find a rhino in the tall grass?
A. You know it when you feel it.

We didn’t find any rhino in the grass, but afterwards Andy said, “I hate walking in that tall grass. You never know what you’re going to find, until a rhino tears you a new anus”.

Unfortunately and fortunately we didn’t find any more rhinos in the afternoon. But we did have the most exhilarating day of art viewing we’ve ever had.

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The Train Trip

May 20, 2009

We promised you no more bus stories, so this is a story about the train trip that we took in the last 24 hours…

We wanted to travel from Victoria Falls to Bulawayo, both on the western side of Zimbabwe. The options were a five hour bus trip leaving at 4 AM from somewhere out of town, or an overnight train leaving at 7PM from the train station only five minutes walk from our guesthouse. We asked several local people about the train, and they confirmed that it was safe, despite our guidebook’s comment that accidents are common. We chose the train because of the ease of access, better departure time, avoidance of the cost of one night’s accommodation, and the positive experience we’d had on the overnight train in Tanzania. The train trip was scheduled to take 14 hours, and to arrive at 9 AM in Bulawayo.

We arrived at the train station just before dark, and waited until the list was posted showing which people were assigned to which saloon (i.e. car) and compartment. We were assigned to saloon 1121 compartment C, which a 1st class ‘coupe’, a sleeping compartment for two people only. It sounded wonderful.

When we boarded the train, we found that almost all the lights in the car were not functioning. The passageway was completely dark, making it difficult to find out compartment. Our compartment was one of only two that had lights, while the other 1st class passengers sat in complete darkness. Our compartment had an intermittent smell of smoke and urine. The lower bench, where we both sat and Diane slept, was missing much of its upholstery, so dirty foam was visible instead. Above the upper bunk was a small storage compartment which we closed after discovering that it contained bones, hopefully from a previous passenger’s dinner and not from a previous passenger. There was a small medicine cabinet above what was once a fold down sink, both of which we were afraid to open. Patrick opened them and looked anyway.

The two African men in coupe D had no lights, and we struck up a conversation with one of them. He was a businessman from Zambia, with good English and a laid back attitude. He was traveling in Zimbabwe as part of his work in import/export (i.e. smuggling). Apparently cooking oil is much cheaper in Zimbabwe than in Zambia due to the fact it can be obtained from South Africa duty-free. By purchasing it in bulk in Zimbabwe, and then smuggling it into Zambia without paying duties, he makes a tidy profit.

There were signs posted on the train like ‘Preserve your Heritage, Don’t Damage the Trains” and “No Smoking”. Our chain-smoking conductor came by to check our tickets. In 1st class, they normally provide sheets, blankets, and pillows to passengers, then rent any extra ones to those in second class for $1 US per person. On our trip, they had no sheets, but we were given two blankets and a pillow each. We used our own sleeping sheets and the blankets, which were just warm enough when the temperature dropped significantly at night.

You could tell that our National Railway of Zimbabwe (NRZ) train was, in colonial times, a beautiful thing, but it has seen better days. In 1st class, in addition to no lights and sparse upholstery, the cars were also lacking many pieces of window glass, all the door handles, and any form of maintenance or cleaning. Our compartment and the passageway were dirty. The toilets had no seats, no longer flushed, and like other trains in Africa, were basically just a hole opening down through the floor onto the tracks. There was no running water in the bathrooms, but there was a sign asking people not to occupy the bathroom for more than 10 minutes, which was not necessary in our case, as we tried to get out of there as quickly as possible, without touching anything.

In the morning, Patrick walked down a few cars to check out 3rd Class. Between the cars, all the doors were missing. In 1st class, the doors to the exterior did not shut (due to the missing door handles), but in 3rd class, they were completely gone. The ground rushed by outside, and the wind poured into the cars. In 3rd class, in addition to the missing doors, there were was no glass in any of the windows. The passengers were huddled on benches under blankets, wearing toques and gloves trying to stay warm as the wind blasted through the cars. This was definitely not a pleasant way to travel, especially when you’re not used to the cold. 3rd Class costs $5 US per person and 1st Class costs $8.

The train was running late, and we were expecting to arrive around 10 AM, when the train stopped unexpectedly on the outskirts of Bulawayo. The conductor wandered by to let us know that the train had run out of petrol. What? Lawnmowers run out of gas. Gas barbeques run out of gas. Occasionally, Patrick’s car runs out of gas. But trains do not run out of gas. Or at least they shouldn’t.


People started to disembark from the train, and stood beside the tracks in the tall grass. Patrick walked the length of the train, up one side and down the other, seeking information on what was happening. A group of male passengers were crowded around the engine at the front of the train. One said that another engine was being sent to retrieve us. Many of the passengers who could had already started to walk. We were apparently about 30 minutes hike from the second-to-last station before our destination. From there, it would likely be possible to get some form of transport to the end. When Patrick reported this to Diane, she was not pleased. We were getting ready to start hiking when we heard that the rescue engine would likely arrive in 15 more minutes. After about 90 minutes of waiting, the train started moving again, and we made it to Bulawayo at about 1 PM, only 4 hours late!


Zimbabwe, Continued.

May 20, 2009

We entered into Zimbabwe by walking across the bridge over the Zambezi River just downstream of Victoria Falls. We walked into the town of Victoria Falls, which seemed deserted relative to the bustle of activity on the Zambian side of the falls in Livingstone. All of the gas stations and many of the shops were closed. What remained open was a grocery store, a couple of restaurants, several tour booking agents, and some curio shops. Everything that remained open was there to serve the few remaining tourists, which were sparse. The guest house we stayed at, once a happening place for overland trucks and backpackers had only six guests including us. Most of the other hotels were either closed, or had a similar occupancy rate.

Despite this, the people were friendly, and we felt safe walking the streets. It was possible to see that this was once a thriving tourist town, and before that, a jewel in the prosperous British colony run by Cecil Rhodes (the ‘Rhodes’ in ‘Rhodes Scholar’), leader of the British South Africa Company.

We saw the rest of Victoria Falls from the Zimbabwean side. It was similarly spectacular, with water levels so high that it was difficult to see through the spray and mist.

We visited the Victoria Falls Hotel, once an opulent destination for wealthy Britains and royals. It is somehow still being maintained in its colonial splendour, despite the lack of tourists.


In Victoria Falls, Diane and I also went for a walk with the local lions.

Yes, they’re real lions, with fangs and claws intact. But no, they’re not wild. They are part of a program to breed and reintroduce lions to many parts of Africa. Walking with the lions is part of Stage 1 of a four stage process that, over many years, will be able to develop prides of truly wild lions that can successfully hunt, breed, and survive in the wild with other lions and predators. Having tourists interact with select lions brings in an essential source of money to fund the program, and is done in a respectful and humane way.

We walked with two lions, a brother and sister, aged 19 months. Although they’re only teenagers, they seemed pretty darn big to us. The whole event seemed very mellow, until they gave us the safety talk, and asked us to sign the waiver. They told us that lions were very inquisitive, and might be fascinated with anything that dangled from us, like camera bag. At this point, Diane took off her earrings and put her hair up.

We were told to walk in single file, and not fall behind. We were instructed to walk behind the lions, and not to touch them in front of the shoulder. If they rolled over, we were to step away. We were each given a small stick, completely inadequate to defend against a lion. If a lion came directly at us, we were to raise the stick, and firmly say “No cub”. They didn’t look like cubs to us.

We walked with the lions for one hour, and had the opportunity to stroll beside them, and touch them as they paced and as they rested. For the record, lions look relaxed, but they walk quickly. They were just like Doobie and Skyler, but one hundred times bigger and infinitely more dangerous.

Before we went to Zimbabwe, Diane was very nervous. Her thoughts now? Victoria Falls is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. It was like an old west ghost town. You could tell that it once was a thriving community, but it’s lost its luster. It is still alive, and things are improving. Not only are more tourists required, but money and time will be necessary to restore it to its former glory.


Zim Baby

May 20, 2009

The largest part of Victoria Falls is located on the other side of the river from Livingstone, in the country of Zimbabwe. Few tourists go to Zimbabwe, because it is run by a dictator named Robert Mugabe, who is desperately holding on to power. Many people expect a coup d’état soon, as the country has been devastated over the last ten years. Zimbabwe is on a list of the top ten failed nations on the planet.

Zimbabwe once had one of the most successful economies in Africa. Due to its good climate, it was self-sufficient in food production, and exported crops including tobacco. It also has mineral resources including diamond mines. In 1990, after 10 very successful years of independence from Britain, the Zimbabwe dollar was still very strong against the world’s currencies.

Between the years 1997 and 2008, Zimbabwe suffered a complete economic collapse due to political instability and corruption, and policies that discouraged or inhibited economic activity. For example, in an effort to gain more support from blacks, Mugabe instituted a program of land reform in 2000, where he forcibly confiscated and transferred the best farm lands, which were previously in the hands of a small white minority, to black political and military friends of his. Many black farm workers and white farmers were killed. Of course, none of the new owners were famers, so agricultural production dropped drastically. Tobacco production is today less than one fifth of its previous level.

Mugabe stole millions from the Zimbabwe War Victim’s Compensation Fund, and when this was discovered, was forced to print more money to pay out the benefits. The Zimbabwe dollar quickly dropped by half. This started a cycle of hyper-inflation, with prices increasing out of control. The government responded by banning the use of foreign currencies, to try to force the people to use a currency that was rapidly losing value, and by printing yet more money. Prices were doubling every day, requiring stores to change their prices every few hours, and employees to renegotiate their salaries daily. The Zimbabwe dollar quickly descended into worthlessness and in January 2009, had to be abandoned. Today, Zimbabwe dollars are sold on the streets as souvenirs. I was given a 100 Trillion Zimbabwe dollar note as a gift. At one point, 100 Trillion Zim dollars would only buy a loaf of bread, but it’s worthless now.

Of course, during this period, foreign investment withdrew from Zimbabwe. Without a source of funds or foreign currency, the Zimbabwe government could not pay its debts, and no one could purchase foreign goods. Food shortages were widespread. The grocery stores that remained open had little to sell. Gasoline was rationed and unavailable in most parts of the country. Social institutions like education started to fail, because teachers and other civil servants were not being paid. People survived by converting all their money to hard assets, like equipment or non-perishable foodstuffs, that would hopefully retain some value, and by operating on a barter system. Barter, in addition to being tremendously inefficient (i.e. time consuming), even further reduced government tax revenues

Mugabe has remained in control through the use of intimidation and force. He rigged the last two elections, to remain in power. In the most recent election, in 2008, the election results were delayed by six weeks while Mugabe’s people tried to find a way to concoct a Mugabe win. Since his defeat was so complete, this wasn’t possible, yet he somehow negotiated a coalition with his opposition, with Mugabe remaining as President and the real winner becoming Prime Minister.

Due to the lack of foreign exchange, many of Zimbabwe’s infrastructure and other critical systems have broken down. A few months ago, about 3000 people died of cholera near the capital city of Harare, as the equipment to treat the water could no longer be maintained.

Despite this tale of woe, tourists to Zimbabwe haven’t been directly affected. In other words, no violence has been perpetrated against tourists by the government, and overall crime levels have remained about the same. However, as you can imagine, tourism rapidly declined to a trickle, and another key economic sector, and source of foreign currency, was devastated.

Media reports about Zimbabwe have been very negative. When we told people that we were going to Africa, they said, “You’re not going to Zimbabwe are you”? Some asked us, and some told us, not to go to Zimbabwe. We’ve met very few people in Africa who have been there recently. Those who had told us that the biggest problem is that the Zimbabwean banking system is not functioning, so it is impossible to get money in Zimbabwe. There are no bank machines, because they have no currency. Neither travelers’ cheques nor credit cards are accepted. Everything must be paid for with cash, using foreign currency brought into the country.

Knowing the history, and in careful consideration of all these factors, we decided to go to Zimbabwe anyhow…


Livingstone, I Presume

May 20, 2009

Livingstone is the city on the Zambian side of Victoria Falls, the largest and most famous waterfall in Africa. The falls are a major tourist attraction, and are a highlight of many people’s journey to ‘the dark continent’. Victoria Falls is about one kilometer across, where the entire Zambezi River drops into a gorge about 400 feet deep.

We arrived in Livingstone after crossing, from east to west, almost all of Zambia by bus in a single day. It was dark when we arrived, but our preferred guesthouse was only a couple of blocks from the bus stop. Unfortunately, it was full, so we found a local guesthouse (i.e. no tourists) where we got a room, with shower, for about 70,000 Kwacha (about $12 US). We switched rooms for each of the next two nights, eventually ending up in the ‘honeymoon suite’ at Jollyboys Backpackers, a thatched cottage with a double bed, a mosquito net, and a shared shower and toilet about 50 feet away in the main building. We either need to resign ourselves to getting up once or twice a night, or curtail all beer drinking by 6 PM!

There we met up with Mark and Chloe, the young couple who survived the hair-raising hitchhiking experience, and who only had a single day to spend in Victoria Falls. They were booked on the infamous Victoria Falls sunset river cruise that evening, so we agreed to join them. Later in the day, we met up with Bart and Evelyn (the Dutch not-really-a-couple who we’d spent time with in NKhata Bay, Malawi). They signed up for the all-you-can-eat-and-drink in two hours booze cruise also.

We first visited the falls around mid-day. The recent rainy season has had the highest rainfall in 40 years, so the falls are running more powerfully than they have in many decades. They are quite spectacular when viewed from the side of the falls, where the view isn’t masked by the spray that shoots up from the bottom of the gorge.

As you progress from the side to the edge of the gorge opposite the falls, it becomes progressively wetter. Many people rent a rain poncho. We decided on a different approach.

It quickly becomes very wet — more like swimming than walking in the rain. The water is so powerful that it ricochets more than 400 feet from where it impacts at the bottom of the gorge, and sends clouds of moisture an additional 200 feet into the air, above the level of the top of the falls. The water falls back to earth in a heavy, drenching rain, and as the trail gets close to the edge of the gorge, is augmented by sheets off spray blasting up from below. It’s the best shower we’ve had in Africa!


Later that day, on the sunset cruise, we met a group of four recently graduated British doctors who had just completed their residency in Zambia. The pontoon barge put in upstream of the falls, and was equipped with a single outboard motor. I briefly wondered what they do if the motor fails, but quickly washed that thought from my mind with a couple of gin and tonics. The body count was as follows. The names have been removed to protect the innocent, but none of them was Diane or Patrick, who had been warned by a man with a broken leg that had been on the cruise a few weeks earlier, and who sustained his injury while jumping from a moving vehicle after the event:
· one woman had to be sent home early, carried back to the bus by Patrick
· one British woman was taken back to our guesthouse bar by two of her three friends, where they needed to rescue her from the arms of two different men
· one British man was missing action. We knew that he’d made it to shore, but after several searches he couldn’t be located, and his friends went back to town without him. He made it back safely in the middle of the night after waking up alone in the darkened men’s bathroom of the outdoor beach club where our boat docked. He had the highest concentration of mosquito bites that we’ve ever seen, but only on the side of his face that wasn’t pressed against the wall as he slept.

The next day, we were surprisingly not hung over. Perhaps it was our regular training regime of afternoon and evening beers? So, we headed to the bridge over the Zambezi which forms the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe, and exists in the no man’s land between the two border posts. It is possible to head out onto the bridge, without officially leaving Zambia, to enjoy the view and the activities available there.

Patrick started off the Bungee Jump. 111 meters (about 350 feet) from the bridge deck to the bottom of the gorge. The third highest in the world. Four seconds of freefall before the bungee comes tight, which feels about two seconds too long when you’re doing it.

Then the Gorge Swing. Similar to the bungee jump except that you are attached to a static rope, not an elastic bungee, that is anchored at bridge level over 300 feet away to a cable crossing the gorge. The drop is the same, but at the bottom, instead of springing back up, you swing out in an arc. It’s more frightening than the bungee because you don’t dive, but merely walk off the side of the bridge and fall over 300 feet.

In both cases, after you stop moving, a guy is lowered from the bridge to retrieve you, and then you’re winched back up to a catwalk below the bridge. You then walk to the end of the bridge, up the bank on the Zambian side, then back out to the center of the bridge. Bart and Evelyn also did the bungee, but Evelyn stopped after that.

The triple feature was completed was a zip line across the gorge, from the Zambia to the Zimbabwean sides. This was the tamest of the three, and a nice relaxing way to wind up.

Our timing in visiting the falls was perfect, because the next night was a full moon. On the night of the full moon, the falls open again after dark, to experience something very rare – a lunar rainbow. On full moons with clear skies, a rainbow is visible when the light from the moon hits the mist above the falls. It’s much fainter than a regular rainbow, and less colourful, but it is clearly visible with the naked eye. Here’s a photo taken with a 30-second exposure in the darkness.

We had a great two days in Livingstone experiencing part of what Victoria Falls has to offer. In our next posting, we’ll fill you in the rest of it.


Things never work out quite the way we planned

May 20, 2009

We arrived in Zambia about a week ago, and spent the first five days in South Luangwa National Park. Like many of our stories, this one started off with a transportation challenge. South Luangwa is about 120 kilometers from the small town of Chipata, and there isn’t any regularly scheduled public transportation to the park. There is often one minibus that covers the rough dirt road per day, but it leaves when full, which can take many hours. Some friends from Holland boarded this minibus at 8 AM, and waited until 4 PM for it to depart! Hitchhiking is the preferred alternative, and the one utilized by most locals. In more remote areas of Zambia, hitchhiking is an accepted form of transport, with many routes having established rates. Unfortunately, you often end up riding in the back of a pickup or on a flatbed truck.

We left Chipata in the early AM and were waiting at the side of the start of the road to the park at about 8 AM. We got a ride three hours later, in the open back of a small truck. A number of local people shared the ride with us, including a woman, her mother, and her two- year-old child, sick with malaria and on the way to the hospital. The road was rough, and once again we were struck with the double flat tire and only one spare scenario, so we waited in the heat of the afternoon by the side of the road, battling the flies. The driver and another guy took both flat tires and started rolling them down the road, heading for the nearest village, which may or may not have had the facilities to repair the flats. The mother and sick child had no water, so they asked and we shared ours.

Vehicle traffic on this road is limited, and we flagged down every vehicle that passed. One was a USAid non-governmental organization (NGO) vehicle, that wasn’t allowed to take any passengers that were not employees. Another was a car with five young men, all drinking heavily, who insisted that we could both squeeze in. We passed. After two hours, a vehicle from Land and Lakes safari company came by, and we pleaded our case. Luckily, they had two empty seats, and one of the passengers was a young Canadian woman from Vernon, who saw the Canadian flags on our backpacks standing in the back of the pickup. They gave us a lift to the park, and we ended up staying at the riverside camp called ‘Croc Valley’ where some of them stayed. In fact, we ended up spending the next two days with them, going on daytime and nighttime game drives, and sharing early morning breakfast and mid-day brunches.

The park was terrific, and we saw a wide variety of wildlife from our open safari vehicle. The driver Godfrey was very good, and he did his best to manage our expectations while catering to our preferences. We had good luck, and saw everything we wanted to. I’m saving the pictures, so as not to spoil things for my friends who are coming to meet us for a safari in Tanzania in a few weeks. Here’s a picture of us on safari.

By staying an extra day in the park, we were able to catch a ride back to Chipata with the same group. Unfortunately we arrived too late to obtain onward transport to Zambia’s capital city of Lusaka, so we headed back to the guest house run by the municipal government where we had stayed previously. The young woman from Vernon (Chloe) and her traveling companion from England (Mark) had only a few days left on their trip, and were pressed for time, so they caught a cab to the edge of town at about 3 PM to try to hitch a ride for the eight hour trip to Lusaka. We briefly considered joining them, but thought that hitchhiking with four people would be difficult. We met up with them two days later in another city, and they told us their tale.

They waited at the side of the road with a local man, and all three got a lift in the sleeper compartment (behind the driver and passenger) of a semi-tractor pulling dual gasoline tankers. Their ride was fine for the first two hours, until they stopped for food. After about 45 minutes, the driver and front seat passenger returned to the vehicle, and had been drinking. In addition, they brought a bucket of beer with them. By now it was getting dark, and they were in a truck stop in the middle of nowhere in Zambia. They decided to continue, but spoke to the driver, and asked him not to drink any more. He only had one or two more beers while driving, but the passenger was downing them rapidly, and had about eight or ten. This was OK because he wasn’t driving. About 11 PM, after a long day, Chloe and Mark nodded off. When they awoke, the passenger and driver had switched places! In what appears to be a case of seriously bad logic, they had switched places so that the previous driver could also drink (without driving). Amazingly, they arrived safely in Lusaka about 2 AM.

This was one ride that we were glad that we had the better judgment not to take!


Observations about Malawi

May 12, 2009
  • Malawi is a beautiful country extending in a narrow strip along the western shore of Lake Malawi. The lake covers one-fifth of the country’s total area.
  • People are very friendly. Most speak English.
  • The first Europeans to reach Malawi were the Portuguese in 1616, but the most famous explorer to reach the area was Dr. David Livingstone, a missionary from Scotland, who in 1858 was looking for the source of the Nile.
  • Malawi was a British protectorate, and from 1907 until its independence in 1964 was known as Nyasaland.
  • Tourists do not pay for a visa to enter Malawi, unlike most other countries in eastern and southern Africa.
  • There were a lot of foreigners living and working in the capital city of Lilongwe, more so than in neighbouring countries.
  • Malawi has had social stability since 1994, when it held its first full multiparty elections.
  • Malawi was hit by a massive famine in 2005, but they have now achieved food self-sufficiency, and are proud of the fact that they just began to export some food to Zimbabwe this year. This situation will probably only last until the next drought.
  • By a large majority, Malawians are Christian.
  • The Malawian currency is called the ‘kwacha’.
  • The staple food for Malawians is ‘nsima’, a thick porridge made of maize flour (basically the same as Kenyan ugali). Sometimes it is made from cassava flour, which isn’t as tasty.
  • The cheap local beer is called ‘Chibuku Shake Shake’. The alcohol content is not listed, because it appears to be a byproduct of another industrial process with limited quality control. It is an opaque beer sold in a 1 litre wax carton, and tastes like a mixture of wheat germ and stomach bile.