Omar In Africa: Travel Update #5: Lusaka, Zambia to Zanzibar, Tanzania

When I wrote my last travel update, I was in the midst of spending a few days in the unspectacular city of Lusaka, Zambia. It's a fairly large city, and I was able to accomplish some errands (like blog posting) while there. It's a city that reminded me more of South Africa than anywhere else I've encountered on my travels--like a South African outpost in the bush. With its Ster Kinekor theatres, its Game store, its Shoprite and Spar supermarkets, its Pep stores, it was all very South African and a bit surreal.

While in Lusaka, I ran into Brian again. This would be a common thing--I spent time with Brian in Lusaka, and again in Livingstone, and most recently we ran into each other here on Zanzibar.

On Monday night, 3 December, Erica arrived in Lusaka; the next morning we were off for Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. We took a bus from Lusaka to Livingstone, Zambia; a minibus from Livingstone to the border; then we walked across the Victoria Falls Bridge to Zimbabwe. I'd read so much about Zimbabwe this past year, the horror stories, the second-hand (and first-hand accounts) I'd heard from people, that stepping onto Zimbabwean soil made me a bit apprehensive.

The apprehension soon vanished, though. When we exited the Zimbabwean border post (where a very friendly immigration officer speedily processed visas for us), the cloudy day turned into a torrential downpour. We had planned on walking the 2km into Victoria Falls town, but the rain changed our plans; we quickly hopped into a private taxi, which promptly broke down in the rain. The driver spent the next 20 minutes working tirelessly, getting himself soaked from head to toe, to get the car working, and got us to our destination, dry.

During the three days I spent in Zimbabwe, I saw determined human beings faced with terrible circumstances. With such terrible inflation (the current unofficial exchange rate, at least when I was there, was US $1 to Z$ 1,600,000), people are doing all they can to survive. Shops are either empty of goods or stocked with certain products to give a deceptive appearance. In a large supermarket in Victoria Falls Town, entire shelves were taken up by mayonnaise or soya mince, only one row deep on the shelf. The illusion of plenty.

Zimbabweans are extremely resolute and hard-working; it is easy to see the effects of poverty and economic collapse everywhere, but their responses to it are surprising. I had expected to be surrounded by pitiful beggars; instead, everyone was trying to sell me something or offer a service. They didn't even need money, necessarily---an old tee-shirt for trading, or an old pair of trousers, or a used pair of shoes---anything that they could trade. I saw young men offering intricate carvings and asking for only a simple tee-shirt in exchange. People volunteered to carry your bags, to arrange tours for you---anything for a little bit of American money or some sort of good that could be bartered. Zimbabwean money is basically useless, and a sort of barter system has taken root. Everyone wanted to exchange something for something else. Only the very elderly or the disabled begged for money or goods. I cannot overstate how impressed I was with Zimbabwean peoples' resoluteness, their determination, their willingness to work, their friendliness, and so on. I wish I could have bought stacks of local carvings or crafts, and help them out, but I had no space in my bag for anything and had to refuse. There was really nothing that I could do.

The main reason I was in Zimbabwe was not to view the effects of economic collapse, it was to view the magnificent Victoria Falls, one of the seven natural wonders of the world, and the largest waterfalls in the world. They put Niagara Falls to shame. Walking around Victoria Falls Park in Zimbabwe, on a cloudy, rainy day, the sheer beauty and scope of the falls was apparent.

Tom, one of my good friends and a fellow South Africa RPCV, had flown to Victoria Falls to join me for a portion of my travels. Erica and I met him one evening, and we went out to dinner at a large, touristy restaurant called The Boma. It was a tacky place, trying to sell the "traditional African experience" with tribal dancing, interactive drumming, and other African stereotypes. The pampered tourists loved it. Erica, Tom, and myself went for the food, however, and were not disappointed. The Boma is an oddity in Zimbabwe---a place where the meat is plentiful and varied (we ate crocodile, ostrich, buffalo, eland, kudu, and impala, along with beef and chicken), and the food is abundant. I wondered what the ordinary Zimbabweans fruitlessly trying to sell their Nyaminyami pendants on the side of the road in town would have thought of The Boma. They probably would have been as surprised as anyone to see The Boma's depiction of "traditional life."

Eric, another of my PC-SA friends, arrived in Victoria Falls soon afterwards; he and Tom explored Victoria Falls while Erica and I crossed back over the bridge and back into Zambia. We spent the next few nights in Livingstone, Zambia, randomly running into two other South Africa RPCVs, Adam and Andrea. Livingstone, only a few kilometers away from Zimbabwe, has an entirely different vibe. While Victoria Falls Town was designed for tourists, and seems desolate without them, Livingstone is an actual African town, chaotic and bustling.

From the Zambian side, we visited the falls again (known in Zambia as Mosi oa-Tunya, "the smoke that thunders"). One one adrenaline-filled day, we went white-water rafting on the Zambezi, the biggest, most dangerous commerically raftable river in the world. Of the 23 rapids we plowed through that day in our 6-person raft, 4 were Class-5 Rapids (the most dangerous), and many more were Class-4. It was my first time rafting, but it was an adventure. In a similar vein to my bungee jump off of the Bloukrans bridge one year earlier, I started with the best. The world's highest bungee for my first jump; the world's biggest white-water rafting on my first trip in a raft.

The entire day was intense, from the walk down the slippery gorge, to the first rapids, and then to the more intense ones later. Knowing that people often die on these rapids (someone had drowned only a few weeks or months earlier) only made the experience that much more intense. Our raft did flip, on the craziest rapid of the day, rapid #8 ("The Muncher"). As I was tossed underwater, I quickly grabbed the rope that rings around the raft, and was able to hold on as we went hurtling downriver, still in the middle of the rapids. I came up for air under the raft, but was soon able to get out and was helped up onto the overturned raft, which we rode for the rest of that rapid. When the waters were calm again, we flipped the raft right-side-up, and paddled on to the next rapid. All in all, white-water rafting on the Zambezi was an exhilarating experience.

On another day, we took a trip out to Livingstone Island, an island in the middle of the Zambezi directly above the falls. To do this, we had to arrange a guide; he took Erica and I out along slippery rocks, wading through ankle-deep water, across the Zambezi, a few meters away from where the water we were in went plummeting down the falls. Eventually we reached the island; from there, we were able to jump into the river and swim to a spot just at the top of the falls. At this point, some rocks were protecting us from falling over; the guide held me by the ankles as I stretched out over the side, looking at the water rushing off of me and falling down the falls. One slip from the guide, and I would have fallen down the falls and died. Again, more adrenaline--it was quite the experience!

Soon enough it was time to leave Livingstone; after a night in Lusaka, Erica flew back to Jo'burg and Eric, Tom and I took a bus from Lusaka to the small Zambian town of Kapiri Mposhi. At Kapiri, we boarded the cross-border Tazara train, which would take us all the way to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania. The trip was supposed to take 40 hours, but ended up taking over 46. Thankfully there were only four of us in our 2nd class sleeper compartment (as opposed to the 6 supposed to fit in each 2nd class compartment) --- the three of us, and a friendly Ugandan named Livingstone.

The train ride was long, and at some point during the trip all 3 of us became ill, but it was a fairly comfortable ride, and was far more comfortable than any of our other options. And on our last day on the train, a few hours before we arrived in Dar, we went through the Selous Nature Reserve, and were able to see elephants, wildebeest, buffalo, giraffes, and large numbers of impala from our seats on the train.

Once the train came to a final stop in Dar, we were able to disembark and make our way through crowds of people and touts towards a taxi driver who took us to our guesthouse. We weren't in Dar for long, though--we left the next morning on the ferry to Zanzibar--but in that limited time, I could see that Dar is a large, vibrant city (bigger than any other city I've been to during these travels), and I'm looking forward to spending a few days there when I leave Zanzibar on January 1.

Zanzibar....the name itself just brings all sorts of thoughts to mind. The Afro-Arab island paradise in the Indian Ocean. It's a wonderful place, and though it falls a bit short of being "paradise" it is still a wonderful place to spend some time. Eric, Tom, and I spent our first few days and nights wandering the labyrinthine streets and back-alleys of Stone Town, getting lost and then finding our way again. Everywhere I looked, I would find a curio shop, or a Mosque, or a beautiful building with an intricately carved door.

After spending time in Stone Town, we journed North to Kendwa Beach, a pure, pristine beach with soft white sand and turquoise water. I've never seen water anywhere the color of the water I've seen in Zanzibar. Kendwa Beach is the most beautiful beach I've seen on this trip, and possibly the most beautiful I've ever seen. By chance, we also happened to run into some more SA RPCVs on Kendwa--very random.

While we were in Kendwa, I celebrated the Muslim holiday of Eid-ul-Adha (or, as it's known here, Eid-ul-Hajj). I walked from Kendwa up to the tarred road, then took a daladala (shared transport) to Nungwi village, where I did my Eid prayer with the locals. Then I went back to Kendwa, where the receptionist wished me an Eid Mubarak and gave me a delicious plate of homemade Zanzibari biryani.

On Friday, we left Kendwa and returned to Stone Town; on Saturday, Eric and Tom left on the ferry to return to South Africa and England, respectively. I've spent the past two days wandering the streets of Stone Town by myself, getting lost physically and mentally, and then finding my way again. I've been dealing with a personal issue, and walking through these streets has helped me to be alone with my thoughts and to deal with them. Tomorrow I head back up to Kendwa....back to that perfect white sand.

(On a related note, my camera has recently malfunctioned. I'm only able to post pictures that I was able to extract from before it stopped working....perhaps I will be able to post my Zanzibar pictures in the future)