Across the Zambezi

Leaving Zim we both felt mixed emotions. We liked Zim - the scenery, the sights, the food, the soccer match and the vast majority of the people we had met. However, we felt a terrible sadness for those who've been swept up in the madness of 'Mr Robert' and his ridiculous cronies. On our way out of Harare we passed Mugabe's offensively plush compound. Both of us shed a tear behind our sunglasses as we quietly discussed 'Luke' whose life had been destroyed by ZANU PF thugs as he defended Roy Bennett's farm and his basic democratic right to vote for his chosen candidate; for a lad called 'Livingstone' who asked 'Falcon', a paramedic on our truck, if he could "cure [his] AIDS"; and for 'Philip', a guide at Zim ruins who told our group that his parents, a teacher and a nurse (i.e educated and, hence, commanding minor local influence) had been locked in their own house and incinerated inside for the 'crime' of supporting the MDC.

It put the ongoing shoe saga into perspective. Having fought some feral foot wounds in the previous fortnight, I blinked and purchased some overpriced, crappy Nike copycats made, no doubt, in some Sovietesque nationalised shoe factory. The frightening thing was that my new pair of shoe-like foot garments were looked on with envy and beyond the purchasing capacity of most locals.

The drive to Malawi meant a two day sprint from Harare across the Gun Run Corridor of Mozambique. We spent four hours at the Mozambique border while the wheels of the near terminal mix of African and Portuguese bureaucracy slowly turned; passing the time with a couple of games of Bocci, chatting to kids who hawked drinks, oranges and peanuts, and watching the antics of goats fighting over the scraps from our truck lunch. The drive was without incident, the highlight (for me, at least) being my cook group (dubbed 'Team Local'), successfully recreating Zim's national dish, Dovi (peanut butter and chicken stew with pumpkin and greens) for 26 hungry souls.

Bush camp in Mozambique at sunrise

It was a bit of a pity that we didn't spend more time in Mozambique - although, the region we visited would not have made the agenda, regardless. The area we travelled through was not heavily touristed for good reason, and while the villages were cleaner than those in Zim, the city of Tete straddling the Zambezi was possibly the biggest dump I've ever seen. Less said the better.

Malawi stood out instantly in great contrast to the dirt, deprivation and disorder Zim and the section of Mozambique we'd just visited. The villages and towns cleaner, the roads superior, the fields better tended. Conspicuously absent were the 'shebeens' (drinking dens) which dotted villages in all the countries we'd previously visited. It meant that men were actually working in the fields rather than boozing up and/or wandering aimlessly. One of the most striking aspects of our cultural experience thus far has been the sheer laziness of many of the local men. The women do pretty much everything - working in the house and fields, taking care of kids, collecting firewood and water. The men, meanwhile, appear to contribute approximately three-fifths of F-all; aside, it seems, from assisting SAB in being the world's biggest brewer. I suppose deprivation can be measured as a reflection of per capita GDP: Malawi is supposed to be 'poorer' than Mozambique. Malawi still looks like it still has self-respect. Mozambique looks like it sold its soul long ago. So much for the anti-imperialist symbols of a clenched fist and AK-47 on their flag. A soccer stadium and some new roads courtesy of Beijing put pay to that.

After a one night stay in Malawi's quaint and quiet capital, Lilongwe, we headed to Kande Beach on the shores of Lake Malawi. We spent three nights there. I had a few dives while Zoe sunbathed. The diving was good but not brilliant. The fish were quite spectacular but the lakebed was bare. Maybe diving and snorkeling in Queensland and the Sinai has spoiled me. Regardless, the new experience of diving in freshwater at altitude was rewarding.  In the evenings, we kicked back with a couple of sundowners and went to sleep listening to the soft sounds of the lakes waves crashing on the beach.

Kande Beach, Lake Malawi

The truck parked up at Kanda Beach

Fields outside campsite at Kande

From Kande we headed north to Chitimba and camped on the beach for two nights. While the rest of the truck spent the day lazing about, Zoe and I (along with four others) trekked the 32km round trip to the Livingstonia mission, perched high above the lake. The views were spectacular and we took a dip in a waterfall atop the range after visiting the mission.

The mission was founded in the 1870s as a bastion of Scots evangelicals on a crusade against slavery. The shores of Lake Malawi were, for 1000 years, a source of slaves for Muslim Arab slave traders who, by exploiting inter-tribal rivalry, murdered tens of thousands and force-marched the surviving non-believers ('kaffirs' in Arabic) to the slave markets in places such as Zanzibar and Mombasa. The Scots were successful in instilling their three tenets of Education, Christianity & Commerce within the local population. And with the help of converted locals (in conjuction with the British Navy working hard in the Indian Ocean), the slave traders were out of business and out of town in just 15 years. The reverence the locals hold for these missionaries is absolute. (And here endeth the lesson...)

Waterfall at Livingstonia

Kirsten & Dan peer over the edge of the waterfall

Zoe & Kat resting up at a local shop, Livingstonia

Church stained glass with David Livingstone depicted as a messianic/saintly figure

Local kids, Livingstonia

Message received, Chitimba Beach

Sunrise at Chitimba with Tanzanian highlands in the background

Leaving Chitimba the truck drove in sweltering humidity past rice paddies to the Tanzanian border. In keeping with the theme of ever changing landscapes, the Tanzanian countryside offered yet more contrasts. As the truck climbed high through banana, then coffee plantations, the temperature dropped rapidly; so much so that Zoe and I ended up inside our sleeping bags on the back of the truck. Within hours we were in shorts again, the bush and heat resembling outback Queensland - dusty red earth, low scrub, patches of savanna grass and dry creeks lined with eucalyptus. We stopped in Mbeya for supplies (where I was challenged to a friendly boxing match by an enthusiastic, large and slightly scary local. Politely, I declined) before bush camping two nights on our way to Dar Es Salaam for our ferry to Zanzibar. One of the nights we were lucky enough to be camped under beautiful clear skies to watch the blood red moon of a total lunar eclipse.

Full moon, Tanzania

Going

Going

Gone...nearly

Our journey from Harare to Dar through Malawi reinforced both the great contrasts and ubiquitous themes of Africa - landscape, culture, political life, basic existence. Among the quiet serenity of our setting in Kande, we were still reminded of the harsh reality of life - and death - for many locals. On our first morning, the camp's English-born manager, Gary, had the grisly task of collecting the body of his chief mechanic who had died of complications from AIDS during the night. On a walk to the village to buy bread for our group, the subject was raised by local artisans 'Spiderman' and 'Donald Duck' who had intercepted us and were trying to hawk their wares to us (they were eventually successful but not without a fight). When I asked 'Spiderman' how old the dead man was, he replied, "Oh, very old, very old...38...maybe even 40...".

I'm 38 in July.

On the last afternoon at Kande, five of us swam to Kande Island, about 1km offshore, did some exploring and spent some time jumping from the cliffs into the lake. That night we ate barbecued chicken, superbly spit roasted over a charcoal fire by our Kiwi driver Grant 'Hasty' Hastie. Life for us is pretty easy right now.

Forest elephants, Tanzania (we never get bored of elephants)

Zim 2 Mali 1 Mugabe 0

From Antelope Park we headed to Great Zimbabwe Ruins, the biggest iron age settlement in sub-Saharan Africa.  It was built by a series of kings who traded iron for the daughters of local farmers.  At any one time, they had 200+ wives.  Our local guide 'Stephen' really brought the site to life for us with his enthusiasm.  Zimbabwe took its name from the ruins when it ceased to be Rhodesia in 1980.  Zimbabwe means Great Stone House in Shona.

Entrance to the king's palace, Great Zimbabwe

Queen's palace, Great Zimbabwe

Entrance to queen's palace, Great Zimbabwe

As everyone's passports whizzed across the globe, we were forced to kill a few more days in Zimbabwe before, hopefully, picking up the returned passports in Harare. Andi and Hasty decided that we'd add a few days in the mountains on the Mozambique border. They hadn't been there before but camping was booked at a placed called Heaven's Lodge, who sold them with the promise of $1 pints.

We were met on our arrival in Chimanimani with beautiful views of the mountain range. Heaven's Lodge, however, had seen better days. The manager told us they'd received few overlanding groups in the last 10 years, and it showed. In it's heyday, the lodge had employed 32 staff but these days a few men sat around the forlorn bar area 'smoking' and dishing out beers. One of these guys, Luke, had been a full time hike leader in the past but rarely had the opportunity to take tourists into the mountains. So, we arranged that he'd take 8 of us out the following day.

The hike started at 8am with a precarious ride in the back of a very old Ute up to base camp. On the way we passed through farm land once owned by local MP Roy Bennett. Luke told us how Bennett had been the only white MP on the opposition government, voted in by the local blacks who regarded this strong Shona-speaking farmer, affectionately, as 'one of us'. His farm, considered the most beautiful in all of Zim, employed many local people, whose children attended the farm's school, part of a wider workers' compound. Bennett's coffee cash crops, and the town, prospered. When Bennett was voted in, Mugabe's followers decided to punish the local people.  First the farms harvest was stolen and then the equipment. Then invaders broke into Bennett's home and terrorised his pregnant wife while he was away. She lost her home, her baby and then her husband, when Bennett was arrested on false charges and sent to prison. Even with Bennett away, the local people were harassed with violence and intimidation: punished for their vote. Yet they continued to support Bennett and celebrated when he was released from prison 2 years ago. He is now in hiding to avoid more false charges and the town suffers. His farm, now derelict, is eerily quiet. The invaders, arrogant and greedy, destroyed the coffee crops and planted maize. Unsuccessful, the people of the town now have no work and little food.

Chimanimani NP

Chimanimani NP

Chimanimani NP

Chimanimani NP

Chimanimani NP

Our hike day with Luke was really brilliant. Strenuous inclines, varied terrain and breathtaking beauty in the scenery. We stopped at Digby Waterfall for an ice-cold dip at lunchtime and felt incredibly lucky to be seeing a part of Zim so few people have got to see in the last 10 years. I asked Luke what Chimanimani meant and he told me it was Shona for 'narrow passage'; referring to the narrow route through the mountains that led to Mozambique. During violent episodes in the town, people who had tried to escape Zimbabwe through the passage had been gunned down on the mountains and many bodies had strewn the paths we were hiking. Meeting Luke and hearing about his life and the town's recent history made our hike even more memorable. People like Luke deserve so much. They still have hope. We hope they get to see their home returned to the place it was. We have had many such humbling experiences in Zim. As we travel through Africa we are very aware and thankful for all the privilege in our lives.

Chimanimani NP

Swimming in a waterfall, Chimanimani NP

Shaking hands with gold poachers/smugglers we passed on a mountain track, Chimanimani NP

Chimanimani NP

From Chimanimani we made our way to Harare, the nation's capital.

Lee, a football mad Brit in our group, had read that Zimbabwe were playing Mali in the African Nations Cup and we were all keen to go. Andi, our ever awesome leader, helped us arrange $3 tickets for the general stands and we equipped ourselves with flags, caps and vuvuzela. We'd been told that "very bad people" attend football matches and that we should take no valuables but I chanced it and took my camera. And I'm glad I did. The noise that ensued when we, the only whites in a 40,000 seater stadium, was bonkers. We received a standing ovation in our stand!  They wanted to high-five us and have photos and sit next to us (well, they did before Falcon got his vuvuzela out). The stadium was rammed by kick off - probably 10,000 over capacity with people in all the aisles, edge of the pitch and hanging off the floodlights. There was a bit of crowd trouble outside the ground, the police drove in trucks with watercannons and the crowd dispersed.  The game itself was very exciting, with a Mali red card, plenty of head butting and a Zim penalty just before full time that would give them the lead. They missed but a second was awarded - we were on the edge of our seats - and they scored!

Zoe & Kat with some local fans

Zim scores a great goal, 1- 0

Half time photo op

Tension mounts as Zim lines up a potentially match winning penalty

The next day we were relieved to hear that our passports were back and ahead of schedule. I was even happier to hear that it means I'll get an extra day lying horizontal on a beach in Zanzibar : ) and a shorter stay in Addis.

Weighed down with a ALOT of Zim handicraft, we prepared to depart to the Mozambique border sad to leave our favourite country so far...

Uncle Bob Stole My Shoes

Internet has, once again, been pretty bad and a fair bit of goings on have gone down - so, bear with me, this post is a chronologically reversed epic...

We've just left Antelope Park, a lion sanctuary in central Zimbabwe after an extended stay of five nights. The park is a game reserve on which the owners are attempting a radical breeding program to reintroduce entire lion prides to the wilderness. The program is entirely funded through tourist dollars spent on activities at the park and by private donations. Activities abound - horseback and elephant-back safaris, horse riding lessons, lion cub feeding and petting, lion walks, lion feeding, canoeing and fishing to name a few. It was an absolutely beautiful setting; we camped by a slow flowing river teaming with bird life, fish aplenty and the occasional elephant or four.

Our five night stay was longer than originally planned as it was revealed to us that our Ethiopian visas were no longer able to be issued anywhere except in our country of residence or upon arrival by air. We had expected to attain them in Harare. This meant that we had to courier our passports to Australia/UK/USA for processing, adding about six days to our stay in Zim. Other nationalities (namely German and Canadian) weren't so lucky and with no viable options are having to fly to Addis Ababa from Nairobi at their own expense. My cousin, Ben, has been brilliant in coordinating DHL's rapid turnaround. It's the second time on this trip that he's helped us out of a hole. A top bloke...for a Kiwi. All this good karma and the ABs might have a shot at beating the Wobblies later on this year. The upshot of this is that our trip is now due to finish on 28 August. So, instead of flying from Cairo on 26 August, as planned, we will fly from Tel Aviv on 5 September.

Back to Antelope Park...

Overall we had a relaxing stay but it wasn't without drama. Our first night I had a bad fever and blacked out while on a mission to the bathroom to have a spew. While Zoe went on our scheduled horse lesson/safari it was decided by the crew that I should be taken to hospital at Gweru where the initial diagnosis was suspected malaria. It had crossed my mind that I might have malaria but was more convinced of sunstroke or food poisoning. Sunstroke was ruled out but the malarial tests were inconclusive as high fever is required whilst blood was taken. Regardless, I was given a course of anti-malarials. Upon my return to the park I was confronted with the news that Zoe had fallen from a horse during a horseback safari and "broken her wrist". She was taken to hospital (while I passed out) where x-rays proved inconclusive as well.

Thankfully we were where we were and had time to recuperate. Zoe's wrist is still hurting but the swelling has gone down. It looks like there's no break (will be confirmed in Harare) and she's dealt with it much better than I would have. My fever abated within hours of the first course of anti-malarials.

Thankfully, also, it didn't stop us from completing the activities that we'd intended on doing. We spent some time with the elephants and their handlers, spent time with some lion cubs in the nursery and went on a two hour sunset bush walk with some tame and very lazy adolescent female lions. I eventually did my horse-riding lesson and horseback safari. The rest of the time we simply relaxed by the pool and ate.

Dawn at Antelope Park



Elephant training, Antelope Park

 

Feeding an Elephant, Antelope Park

Lion cub, Antelope Park

Zoe with cub and dodgy wrist, Antelope Park

Laura petting a cub, Antelope Park

Walking the lions, Antelope Park

Photo-op (they've just eaten so it's safe), Antelope Park

Sunset, Antelope Park

Zoe with schoolkids, Antelope Park

Prior to Antelope Park we were in Bulawayo for two nights. It was obvious that Bulawayo had once been a wealthy, proud and beautiful city with wide avenues and quaint colonial architecture. But more than any other part of Zim it has suffered badly in recent years; mainly due to the fact that it is the heartland of MDC activism and it relies on the agricultural output of people whose qualification for farm ownership is, apparently, their ability to terrorise others.

Fuel shortages, Bulawayo

While there, Zoe and I went with seven others in our group on a foot safari to track rhino. Secretly praying that we didn't encounter any black rhino, I was quite happy at the thought of seeing some of the white ones from a safe distance. After a morning of wandering around looking at some impressive San cave paintings in Matopo National Reserve, we met up with our tracking guides: Andy, armed with serious bushcraft knowledge, a straight talking personality and a .416 calibre bolt-action rifle, and Brendan, armed with a keen eye, an AK-47 and a seriously unserious attitude toward gun safety; swaggering through the bush holding it by the barrel, the butt swaying across his shoulder. Suddenly, the prospect of an unarmed encounter with a black rhino seemed not so bad.

San rock art, Matopo National Reserve

On patrol, Matopo National Reserve

Anyhow, Andy's tracking skills and Brendan's eagle eye came up trumps. After two hours, starting with a single footprint, we tracked down three of the "buggers", otherwise known as white rhinos, and stalked them closely for a couple of hours from about 30 yards. We also saw wildebeest, impala, baboon and warthogs. A great day. On the way back to Bulawayo Zoe rode in the front of the truck and chatted to Andy. He no longer had any family or old friends remaining in Zim. They'd all left for South Africa and Europe years earlier. Tough stuff.

A White Bugger, Matopo National Reserve

We arrived in Zim ten or so days ago from Botswana, crossing just a short drive from Victoria Falls. The boredom of waiting for Zimbabwean bureaucrats grant our visas was helped by monkeys entertaining us from the roof of the border post - and Lindy running in and out of the line in between puking up the previous night's intake of booze. The degraded state of Vic Falls township was stark both in comparison to Botswana and to descriptions given to us by friends who'd been there ten or more years ago. It's on the up again due to economic reforms but it was still very sad to see. Regardless, we still had a great time. We camped at Shoestrings Hostel - complete with pool, bar, hot showers and wifi!

The Falls, itself, was in full flow due to huge rainfalls in the upper Zambezi. The rumble of the torrents and the spray cloud could easily be heard and seen from the town. The day we visited Zoe made an effort to look presentable for photos; however, the sheer power of the Falls created so much spray that it was like walking through a car wash. Clothes stuck, make up ran. Plan foiled.

After drying off in the hot Zim sun we spent the afternoon at the posh colonial 'Victoria Falls Hotel' where Zoe finally met her match, in terms of cake consumption: their famous high tea - three tiers of sandwiches, scones and cream cakes. On the way home we were confronted by a herd of wild elephants wandering down the main street, to the amusement of locals and tourists alike. We also spotted elephant, monkey, baboon and warthog on an evening run and one of our group, Kat, literally ran into an elephant.

Prior to saturation, Victoria Falls



View from Vic Falls Hotel



Zoe's nemesis, Victoria Falls



The following day a group of ten of us crossed to Zambia to take a microlite flight over the falls and to visit Livingstone. The aircraft being two-seaters, Zoe and I flew separately. And being a gent, I let her go first. We had the same mad German pilot so followed the same general flight path, banking several times over the falls and canyon at about 500ft - swooping low over elephants and hippo pools on the banks of the Zambezi. He even let both of us fly for a short stint while he spoke of his faith in the "Power of God". There's nothing more reassuring than being the target of religious conversion whilst being suspended from a hairdryer-powered kite over Victoria Falls, let me tell you. Despite this and although Zoe found it "poo your pants scary", we both loved it.

Zoe taking off, Zambia

Time to hose the jumpsuit, Zambia

 

Me taking off, Zambia

The microlite flight was awesome; Livingstone less so. It looked like precisely nothing had been done since the Poms left, despite Zambia's incredible mineral wealth. Yet another paradise lost. Returning to Zim we were farewelled by Zambian hawkers telling us, sardonically, to say hi to 'Uncle Bob'; then swarmed by skinny Zim hawkers begging us to swap our shoes, water bottles, shirts, anything for their wares. Shoes are in massive shortage in Zim and the quality of shoes produced and available is very poor. I found out the hard way when my boots went missing from our tent on the last night of our stay at Vic Falls. For that, and the thorns in my feet, I lay the blame squarely on 'Uncle Bob' and his mates.