Livingstone

The water of the Zambezi surges past the wooden decking of the Royal Livingstone. Mr. Ted E. Bare is thoroughly impressed with his riverside view and agrees to pose for a rare photo. We sip mango juice and watch the water surge by, just minutes before it reaches the falls and plummets over a hundred meters to the bottom of the gorge. The sun is hot on my skin, I’m relaxed and life feels very good indeed. The hotel is magnificent; a scene of decadence and wealth that I have almost forgotten existed. I can feel a need growing inside me, a need to spend a night here, to recapture a more stylish aspect of my life.

I’m still laughing as I wring the water from my clothes. I am soaked to the skin; hair, underwear, wallet, the lot! I have just crossed over the narrow Knife Bridge and been treated to an downwards, upwards and sideways shower courtesy of the Victoria Falls. The falls are thunderous and produce a constant ‘smoke’ as water droplets are thrown high into the sky by the force of the water hitting the bottom. The view on the other side of the Knife Bridge is spectacular. You can see the main bridge connecting Zambia to Zimbabwe where crazy people go bungee jumping; the jump is one of the highest in Africa at over 100 metres. The edge of the spray produces beautiful views and because of all the moisture, there is a lot of different plant life. The view down to the boiling point (where the water swirls around and around endlessly, producing deadly currents) is awe-inspiring.

The lion looks at me as if I have been marinated in special saliva-inducing ingredients and I am suddenly very glad that there is a fence between us. His unnerving gaze is focused squarely on me. He is a majestic king; everything from his pointed teeth and furry ears to his black tipped tail looks luxurious. His coat is in excellent condition and his eyes sparkle. Now if only I could stop feeling like a piece of doe-eyed prey I would be ok. He is the jewel in the crown of this collection of big cats. I have already seen both young and adult cheetah, lynx and young lions. Nothing is as impressive as these four lions though. I have always loved cats and even though this one looks like it wants to eat me, I still feel a strong benevolence towards him. If I thought I could pet him and still keep my hand attached to my arm then I would be reaching through the fence no problem.

It turns out Livingstone is a lovely place. It’s filled with tourists because of the falls but it feels modern, safe and because of its size is easy to get around by foot. There is plenty to do and when I return there in May for a longer visit I will have no problem spending three or four days there. I am planning on doing some more adventurous stuff, hopefully including a days white-water rafting.

Your travel guide temporarily transplanted from the middle of nowhere

A Milestone of Sorts

“Be-beeep” goes roadrunner as he zooms away from Wile E. Coyote. This is the image I have in my head as today, Saturday the 23rd April arrived and I realised that today, I am in Zambia six full months! How did that happen?

The heat hit me as I stepped out of the plane and into the hot Zambian air at six in the morning. My Zambian adventure was about to begin and everything was up for grabs. The sun was already hot against my skin and the October air was pushing 23 degrees and the day hadn’t even started. I smiled as I saw my contact at the airport waiting for me on the tarmac. Hania wasn’t kidding about the red carpet being rolled out for me. He lead the way and I found myself in the Zambian nationals line at passport control. However when he disappeared I begin to sweat. I could see white faces watching me from the long queue of foreign visitors waiting to have their passports stamped. I got to the front and he still hasn’t returned. “Stay calm David, stay calm. I’m sure he’s just gone for coffee or something… yeah, that’s it.” I let people go past me and much to my relief he turned up with an “Oh, you’re already at the front. Good.” He shoveed me forward, greets the female official by first name and we’re through. I could get used to this!

I stand as high as I can. I am almost on tipi-toes atop of a 2 metre high tree trunk watching as the first dawn of a new year is born of the horizon. The sky floods with colour. Yellow merges to become orange; orange slides into salmon, salmon darkens to crimson and navy to show the last of the night sky. I can’t believe that I find myself here in Chikuni on this New Years morning. The seed of the thought of becoming a volunteer hadn’t even been planted in my brain this time last year. How twelve months can change everything. The sun appears as a sliver of burning yellow just peaking above the distant savannah. Trees disintegrate in the light and vanish temporarily. I wonder about what the next twelve months will bring me; a thirtieth birthday, an Easter away from my family, a year of African memories yet to be imprinted on my brain. I marvel at the fact that I’m stood here, in Africa!! A burning desire to see this sunrise has kept me awake all night and it has lived up to all my expectations. I am left speechless, allowing the thoughts and emotions to wash over me, the tiredness, just like the distant trees, has vanished temporarily.

We shelter from the shower in the porch of the church. The adults are doing adult business as thirty odd children and I decide what to do while staying dry. I sit with my back to the walk, snuggled in between a nine and eight year boy. We start with the staring and mimicking game, which I always enjoy. They are all fascinated by my white skin and different facial structure but they are still shy. So the game is to catch them staring and make eye contact, at which point they hide their faces. Sometimes they look away, sometimes they hide their faces behind a neighbour, and sometimes they throw their entire bodies out of the spotlight of my playful gaze. The second part of the game is that I mimic one of them. Both pieces elicit much laughter, delight and fun. The next game is a game I learnt during orientation for coming here. You point to a part of your body, for example your ear and say the word in English “This is my ear”. They then repeat the phrase. Then you point to another part, for example your eyes, say it’s name (“These are my eyes”), let them repeat and then sing all the previous pieces “This is my ear, these are my eyes”, pointing or holding each piece as you go. And then add more and more pieces. Everyone laughed when I held my nose and in a silly, Daffy-Duck voice said “This is my nose!” Tongue was the other firm favourite as when you say tongue while holding your tongue, you sound very silly indeed. Eventually the adults finished their business, the rain stopped and I had to leave my troop of giggling cherubs. Little did they realise though that it was my birthday and they had given me a better present than I had ever expected for that day, the gift of laughter and friendship, no matter how short lived it might be!

So here we are; it’s been six months full of memories, events, discoveries, kindnesses and gibberish posted here. To all of you on the other side of the equator, I still miss you but I’ll be back, eventually, probably not married.

Take care
Your coyote in the middle of nowhere

Burrrrrr

As Europe begins to finally be able to feel its toes again after the cold of Winter, here in the Southern hemisphere things are also beginning to change. As I have walked home at night recently, along the moonlit path as it winds through the bush, I have felt a distinct chill in the air. This has been accompanied by an even bigger chill in the morning when I have breakfast on the back step of my house. I find myself clutching my glass of hot lemongrass tea and thinking, do I really want to wear shorts today? Despite this, the temperatures during the day are still high and I still feel more comfortable in shorts and tee shirt. Walking home though, I’ve been very glad that the tee shirt is long sleeved! It feels like typical desert weather as the sky is mostly clear now resulting in high temperatures during the day and then all the heat escapes through the atmosphere at night making things cool. I fear that I may be packing away my shorts at the end of April.

This change also signals the end of rain season. No more rain now until November. This seems like a very odd prospect for me given that I grew up in Ireland where it rains almost every week regardless of season and London where it remains dry for at most four weeks at a time. I have already packed away my umbrella and haven’t seen any rain since the beginning of last week. The rains this year where not as heavy as previously apparently and therefore the maize crop will not be quite so good. It’s nothing to worry about but it just means people won’t be as well off.

The other fun noticeable change is the arrival of great big swarms of bees. I attempted to have breakfast outside Saturday morning only to discover that bees were swarming the outside of my house. After a while, a queen bee will be ejected from a beehive and when she is thrown out, bees loyal to her will follow her to a new location. This is why the bees are now looking for new homes. One assumes it also has something to do with finding somewhere warm to pass away the short cold season. It’s very cool to hear a swarm go by over-head and to think that it’s the sound of a thousand wings all beating together. Thankfully the bee’s decided that our house wasn’t quite suitable (maybe the giant rats scared them off) and so they didn’t stick around. Yesterday though, after work as I was heading past the church, I heard and then saw a big swarm just above the main entrance. There where hundreds of them and scared looking people where gathering around a little distance from the swarm to watch. This has happened a number of times over the years apparently but it’s bad enough chasing flies during mass without also having the prospect of being stung by a disgruntled bee that thinks you pose a threat. I have yet to pass by the church today to further investigate but if they do decided to settle then they won’t be left there for long. I just hope I don’t get the job of ‘persuading’ them to leave…

Your cold reporter in the middle of the nowhere

Creatures of the night

“What was that?” My head spins to the left and my conversation with Gian abruptly ends. Something black, grey and large flashed past in the corner of my eye. My imagination, despite the late hour, is already going into overdrive. Adrenaline starts to be released into my blood stream and then my heart jumps as it zooms out of one room (the room next to my bedroom), down the corridor and straight through the open hallway door into the room where I am standing. “BAT!!!” I manage before ducking out of the way as it zips over my head and into the sitting room. Gian closes the kitchen door on me and laughs. More expletives follow before the bat decides this room is too noisy and flies back through the hallway door… and into my bedroom! Gian reappears with the broom and hands it to me. Feck…

I hate bats! Every time one gets inside a house I shrink away. When it’s not my house this is acceptable (in my mind) but now for the first time I have to deal with this creature of the night. Bats carry rabies, the one thing I have not been inoculated against given the low possibility of catching it and the awful procedure to be inoculated against it (one big needle, your stomach, repeat three times, no thanks!). In my head, I have my supervisors voice saying, “I told you so! You were told to be inoculated against it…” over and over again. Stupid brain, it should be loading the manual for how best to kill bats while not getting scratches and instead it’s being a smart-arse.

Gian goes to hunt the bat out of my room. We close the two hallway doors and the shower room door. We leave the toilet door open as it’s more or less directly opposite my room and has a nice big and more importantly open window. Gian ducks, the broom goes backwards over my head to lash at the invisible threat and the bat appears. The broom hits the beam behind me with enough force to break the broom head off, I arc the remaining handle downwards, the bat swerves, does a three-sixty turn and all I hit is air; the broom head and a shower of paint and dust rain down on me. Arse! The bat flies into the drying room, the room next to mine. Gian closes the door to my room as I abandon him in search of another household implement to destroy, this time the mop. I gingerly open the hallway door and find Gian waiting for me. The look on his face is priceless, “How did I get myself in this stupid position?” He reluctantly walks into the drying room and something flashes over his head, I swipe at it but it’s not in the hallway, it’s gone straight across and into the toilet. Gian grabs the toilet door and yanks it shut. We wait… there’s no noise; Gian tentatively opens the door; the bat is gone! Pheeww…

Four hours later I wake with a start. It’s 3am and the house is quite. Except for directly above my head. There’s the sound of not-so-little feet rapid scurrying across the attic. The damn rats have knocked something over up there and woken me up, again! I have yet to see these rats but (in my mind) I have no doubt that they are the size of a small cat given how much noise they make. I dread having to go up in that attic more than I dread death! And worryingly, either Gian or myself are going to have to go up there sooner rather than later. You see, recently there has been an occasional but worrying buzzing noise coming from the electricity wiring directly above the main fuse box and I fret that the rats have eaten through the cabling. For now though, I try to not think of how many of them might be up there, 30, 40, shiver, 50 and instead think of the feeling of being in a past lovers arms, a much nicer and far less furry prospect! Slowly I drift back to sleep, ignoring the occasional squeak or pitter-patter of not-so-little feet. The favourite goodnight saying of my parents, “Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite”, sounds almost comical at this stage.

Sleep tight in all your boring homes,
Your midnight reporter in the middle of nowhere