THE Holiday

There is a noise, a bit like a whimper that very few people on this earth have heard me make. As I stood on the bungee platform, one such whimper escaped me as I really, really, no REALLY wished I wasn’t so damned adventurous! Prior to this moment, I spent many weeks looking forward to this very thing, grinning at the prospect of this rarest of rare opportunities. But now all that’s going through my head is “oh God, I don’t think I can do this”. I was fine until I got on the bridge between Zambia and Zimbabwe. Once there, my excitement slowly curdled into nervousness. The nervousness soured into fear with each step towards the middle of the bridge and the “platform of doom”. By the time I had the harness on and was stepping through the tiny hatch between the bridge and the platform I could feel real apprehension growing. After the minor details like attaching the bungee cord etc it was time to step out and face destiny. All of the carefully constructed words and actions I had planned a hundred times in my head disappeared to be replaced by that aforementioned whimper. Looking down of course is the worst thing you can do so little surprise that that’s exactly what this idiot did. The view was incredible and so real that I was worried for the state of my underwear. An exceptionally quick 5-4-3-2-1 from “the dude” and I was gone… There’s no describing the feeling or the sound of what happened next. I tried flapping my arms in a misguided attempt to save myself in a style similar to “Dustin The Turkeys” flap-flaps routine. The sight of the canyon floor and the dark Zambezi rushing up to meet me was immense and I barely noticed the wind screaming in my ears as I feel like a stone for 111m before being yanked back up by the bungee cord. The rest of the ride was boring in comparison but included another 90m fall, some punching of air with my fist and more than one “wooohoooo”. As soon as I got back on the bridge all I wanted to do is jump again of course. Some people just never learn…

Before all that though, I had a fantastic safari in neighbouring Botswana at Chobe National Park. The park has over 120,000 elephant as well as lions, giraffe, leopard, crocodile, zebra, buffalo, hyena, jackal, shed loads of beautiful birds and all manner of cute doe-eyed lion fodder. Speaking of which, we saw a pride of lions only a couple of meters away from us early on the second day. There were maybe 12 of them in all and they walked right past the front of the car on their way to finding shade to snore the day away. Amazing! We also got mock-charged by a pregnant elephant mom (another underwear endangering experience), we had a night safari and saw so many beautiful animals that no words will never do them all justice. While the lions were the highlight, I loved watching the scaredy-cat zebra, the majestic elephants and the inquisitive giraffe the most. Chobe is an excellent place to do a safari, especially at this time of year because all the animals are concentrated near the Chobe River because that’s one of the only sources of water now. So you can see loads and loads and loads of stuff all in a very small area.

Aside from the big activities, being in Livingstone was a lovely change from Chikuni. It was a chance to live a little bit of city life. I had fantastic pizza at Olgas (every night!) and I visited Victoria Falls again, only this time I could actually see them. I got robbed of lunch (and then stalked) by aggressive quick-eyed thieving bastard baboons. I blagged my way into posh hotels and then got ambushed by the twilight zone when Chikuni people showed up unannounced in one such hotel. I watched the sun setting over the Zambezi and disappear behind Zimbabwe while drinking the first cocktail I’ve had in a year. Bliss! At the end of it though, I was really looking forward to returning to my village. Big City David seems to have died a death to be replaced by Village David.

Despite all the fantastic experiences I had while being in Livingstone, these experiences won’t be the highlight of my time in Zambia. Instead it’s the low key experiences that mean the most to me. Saying goodbye to new friends, little kindnesses shown to me and spending all night giggling like a school girl all mean far more to me than beautiful animals, shear terror/adrenaline or nearly drowning in the Zambezi. Perhaps I’m getting sentimental in my old age…

Your adrenaline junkie in the middle of nowhere

Concert Craziness

Seconds before the camcorder pitches sideways and crashes, unattended to the ground, the video footage shows Mr. Bendy Legs from the Mashombe Blue Jeans band leaping outwards from the two and a half meter high stage. His flailing body grows ever closer to the camcorder before “ka-pow!”, man and machine meet in the most unexpected of ways.

Muchamba is one of the entertainment bands keeping the 5,000-ish people happy while the contestants in the Annual Chikuni Tonga Concert competition take a breather. There are almost one hundred bands from all over “Tonga land” (encompassing large tracts of the Southern Province in Zambia) to compete across twelve different categories. There are solo artists singing unaccompanied songs, there are people singing to all manor of unusual musical instruments and bands featuring homemade drums, guitars and bass. A few have dancers up front entertaining the crowd and others are adorned in magnificent traditional African dress. Some sing with furious passion, others sing soulful sonnets while others attempt to rock the crowd.

Chikuni is a quiet place, more or less. Despite my usual departing tag line, it’s certainly not in the middle of nowhere and is instead very well known throughout Zambia and beyond. Having said that, it’s not exactly a metropolis either and it is most definitely, thankfully, in the bush. So when 10,000-ish people all arrive together over the course of two days, the place can feel a little other worldly. I was relatively isolated from the whole thing because I spent both days on stage filming the contestants and entertainers for the forthcoming Hollywood blockbuster “Chikuni Tonga Concert 2011”, coming direct to DVD soon. The time I did get to spend rushing around, I enjoyed the contrast to the usual quiet life here. And rushing around through crowds of people surprised by my appearance and (laughable) ability to greet them in Chitonga will provide one more memory of my time here.

As well as the contest and the entertainers there was also another notable performance from Mukanzubo Kalinda, the excellent Tonga cultural centre based here in Chikuni. There were about 40 girls in all, performing lots of different traditional types of dance in all manner of striking outfits and accessories including axes. They were backed by the singing and drumming of the regular Mukanzubo troupe. When all of the dances had been performed the girls and the band disappeared off stage but there was a final treat for the audience. When the next set of performers came on stage the crowd went wild. I was sandwiched in the VIP area between the crowd and the stage; trying to run the camcorder, keep annoying cadets from walking in front of the camera and taking a plethora of still photographs. Suddenly it seemed to be all men at the front of the crowd and the whistling and cheering became more and more immense. The reason for all this was that the last group was the regular Mukanzubo dancers, but they were kitted out in evening dresses, very flattering and seductive evening dresses! They only performed one number which was probably a good thing or there may have been rioting but the girls seemed to love the reaction and were all smiles for their boisterous adoring fans as they performed and then promptly exited stage left to recover from the exertion.

So all in all, a very busy but fun weekend, rich with yet more memories. The memories of many of the competitors will remain with me for quite some time along side the Mukanzubo performance as well as boys in trees, huge crowds, climbing towers and utter exhaustion.

Your reporter in the middle of nowhere

Illness

“Huumplkkkkkk” is the sound that escapes my body as I dry-retch for the 5th time; “Oh God, I want to die” goes through my mind as I cling to the floor and look into the abyss that was the contents of my stomach not long ago. Beads of sweat run into each other on my forehead and trickle down my exhausted, drained face before joining the awful contents of the bucket. I HATE VOMITING! After the vomiting comes the diarrhoea; diarrhoea I can handle, just about. In fact, as I sit, exhausted and faint on the toilet, a merry little tune comes to my mind thanks to my favouritiest cousin in the whole world. The lyric goes something like

When you’re climbing up a tree
And it’s running down your knee,
It’s diarrhoea, diarrhoea.

Despite the tiredness and desperation, I’m still able to smile at this stupid little thing and I think that’s one of my favourite personal qualities, the ability to (nearly) always see the bright side of even the worst situations. And to never forget that some things are temporary, no matter how unpleasant they are. An ex-girlfriend of mine never liked this saying but I’ve always felt it very true, “Life’s a bitch sometimes!”

It sucks being ill; it sucks worse when you are alone when you’re sick. I think it’s the times that I have been ill and away from people I love that have been the loneliest, most isolating and vulnerable times in my life. The knowledge or feeling that you are on your own no matter how bad it gets. That feeling was always present in London but here it is amplified even further. Just like in London there are people who care and worry about me here but somehow it’s not the same. I’m not the top priority and never will be. Having had a glorious illness-free eight months, I’ve now had three bouts of stomach trouble in the space of 2 months. I dreaded going to the doctors because the last thing I want to hear is that I have malaria but in the end I bit the bullet I can confirm, thanks be to God, my guardian angel(s) and every other saint I can think of, the test came out negative. So it’s just me being unlucky/stupid. I’ve always been a boy when it comes to my personal health. I had numerous near life ending moments long before I got to Africa and while I am a bit more careful here I believe in fully experiencing life and if somebody offers me something then I usually won’t hesitate in accepting their kindness. This obviously has its own risks but as always, I’ve considered this and am willing to accept the consequences of my actions. Even if that test had come back positive then I would have faced the consequences without much regret. I didn’t come to Africa to live in a glass case, much and all as some might like me to. I can’t live like that and after all, it’s all my father and my favouritiest cousins father (the dare-devil on my mums side) fault.

Having said all that, I’m really hoping that the next three months will remain illness free. I might just have to be even more careful. No more dodgy furry jam, grapefruit with maggots or mouldy cheese. A lifetime of eating things that others might not (like rescued peppers that a flatmate thought he threw out) is a powerful habit to break but having just survived a third reminded of how much I HATE VOMITING I’m inclined to be just a tad more careful.

Your thinner reporter in the middle of nowhere

News Flash

It’s been quite a while since I’ve posted here. This hasn’t been because one of the snakes finally got me or I’ve melted under the now extreme African sun, no. Instead it’s been an incredibly busy three weeks filled with illness, adventure, work, running around, work, illness, yet more work, a fair bit of screaming and did I mention work?

All the work originated from the Annual Chikuni Tonga Music Concert. It’s the most stressful time of the year for anyone associated with Radio Chikuni. Some photographs can be found on picasa and more details will follow soon…

After the concert, I had a week off and did my long awaited return trip to Livingstone. I had a fantastic time there, did loads of stuff, have loads of memories and yet more pub stories to keep me in Fruili long into next year. Full details to follow about this too… (In the meantime a small selection of the stupid amount of photographs I took can be found on picasa)

Finally there’s the illness. I hate being ill and am not the world’s best patient by any stretch of the imagination. So I was very disappointed to be hit by a stomach bug on the weekend before the concert and immediately upon returning to Chikuni after Livingstone. I am fine now but I’m left feeling worried about whether there is more to follow, this is Africa after all. Full details to follow immediately…

I Want To Bee Free

It is with a heavy heart that I have to announce that operation “Lets not get stung again because it hurts like a bastard” comes to an end and a very undramatic end at that. Worse still, it’s come to a honey-free end! In fact, operation “Lets not get stung again because it hurts like a bastard” could easily have been renamed to “Lets sit on my arse and wait for the bees to leave”, an equally snappy title as the original. It would seem that my attic was only the bees winter get-away and now that the weather is heating up (how nice it is to be back in shorts again) they have decided that the attic is getting a little warm during the day and decided to relocate to a more temperate environment.

Watching them swarm Sunday morning, it didn’t really dawn on me that they were actually in the process of shifting. It was only when we went into the attic to (finally) retrieve the honey that we realised they had scarpered. I mean, honestly, they took every last drop of honey with them, how rude! So my bee problem has come to an end, not necessarily the end I was hoping for but at least I only got stung the once and we were able to live in relative harmony. Now I can go back to only being disturbed by the army of ants that now seem to be everywhere.

Your bee-free author in the middle nowhere

A Snake-tastic Weekend

While I am only hours away from another weekend, the last one is still very fresh in my mind and the thing that featured the most, other than perhaps laughter was my old leathery, scaly, slithering, scream-inducing friends, the snake population of Chikuni.

So I am sitting on my front step, enjoying a sneaky coffee and ginger-nut on a hot Saturday afternoon when I should be in Chikuni. The concrete underneath my (cute) butt is hot, the birds are flying through the air and I am pondering the meaning of… ”What the Hell was THAT?” Rustling comes from the corner of the flowerbed just below where the house meets the front step. I knew immediately what the hell that was. That was the sound of a snake slithering over the dry leaves that have built up in the corner. Next came the difficult question, do I finish this fine coffee or do I run away? Of course I finished the coffee; I mean come on, it’s coffee! I will admit though, I finished it quicker than normal with regular glances over my left shoulder. After escaping into the ‘safety’* of the house I got myself ready to return to Chikuni and then before shouldering my pack I picked up an old broom handle and went for a proper look. I could just make out the not-so-little bugger in amongst the leaves. It was light brown/tan in colour making it hard to distinguish. As the end of the handle got closer to it, it hissed louder and louder. In a moment of inspiration I suddenly came to my senses and thought, “what the hell am I doing? If I provoke it then it’ll probably bite me; if I leave it alone then I don’t get bitten and it doesn’t have to die.” So I sensibly decided (yes, me, imagine!) to leave it alone and hope that it didn’t decide to take up residence there. I hopped on the bike and we both went our separate ways, (hopefully) never to meet again. I will tell you though that coming home in the dark that night I made far more noise than normal in the yard and didn’t hang around before slamming the door behind me. *Fun fact though, snakes can get through the gap between the floor and the door, hurray!

Next was Sunday morning, on my way out to meet a friend for a picnic. I rolled the big gate that keeps the cows etc out of our garden shut behind me and made it approximately two steps forward when I heard and then saw a little wiry green snake jump into another pile of leaves. This one was only a baby compared to the day before. I didn’t have anything to poke it with and I was already on Zam-time (i.e. half an hour late, yes even here I am useless at time keeping) so decided to just keep going. I met a girl walking in to see the guy I live with so I did at least warn her and the contorted look on her face was well worth it.

Lastly, later in the day, this friend and I were walking along through the bush having a great old chat when lo and behold, we literally stumbled across a snake sunning itself on a patch of grass. I’ve always been led to believe that snakes can feel the vibrations of footsteps long before you get near them but if that’s true this one must have been a real dunce because it was as surprised as we were at the encounter. My friend screamed and ran for the hills (literally, because that’s where we were walking to) while the snake did a very acrobatic little jig and plunged head first into it’s hole (the internet has failed me in finding the name for a snakes home and even I don’t believe snakery is a word). All this happened as I stood there like a sack of spuds looking at the spot where the snakes tail had disappeared only moments before and thinking “cool, three snakes in two days”. Meanwhile my friend was fifty metres down the path in obvious shock and muttering “ewww ewww ewww, I HATE snakes!” I quickly realised that I had to go and calm her down but no amount of comforting words and accounts of personal heroics involving many a maiden would console her. She spent the rest of the walk keeping two very weary eyes on the ground and even the very mention of a s-n-a-k-e resulted in a shiver and a cold glance. Thankfully we didn’t meet any more though and the picnic turned out to be a very lovely idea.

Your snake-charmer in the middle of nowhere

The Lusaka Express

I welcomed the alarm after a wretched night of fitful sleep entwined with tear-jerking half memories, thoughts of a future love and “what ifs”, all choreographed to 65daysofstatic. Ninety minutes later, beautiful tall gnarled trees stand proudly in black silhouette against the cool dawn light as a new day is birthed from the horizon; this sight alone more than makes up for the early hour. Minutes later my favourite vista in all of Zambia appears as we crest a hill and the valley below, which must stretch out for over a hundred kilometres, is bathed in the soft pink light of dawn. Mountains on the distant horizon produce a topsy-turvy sky and the sun beyond them is only a few minutes away. Not long after, down in the same valley we come to a temporary statutory stop before crossing (yet again) the seldom used railway line that links Lusaka and Livingstone. The morning fog here in the bowls of the valley is light and patchy. It makes for a one more beautiful sight as the railway line heading northeast towards Lusaka disappears into the fog while at the same time people are walking towards us along the line who are in varying degrees of emergence from the fog. All very picturesque! This is the second “memory photo” at this crossing. The first was on the return leg of my trip to Lusaka with Gian when a group of boys were sitting on the railing just before the crossing. Annoyingly, both times I have been unable to photograph the moments and so the images only live on in my (often forgetful) mind.

It’s the colour and movement that catches my eye and draws my attention away from the conversation. It’s her shape that makes my head turn. Hey, whoa, hang on a second, I’ve missed this; well dressed talent (Irish slang for cute girl)! And it’s not just singular either but plural; sweet eye candy how I’ve missed thee… Now for clarification and in order to not get lynched by my local (female) audience, I should point out that there’s no shortage of good looking girls in Chikuni but most of it is out of bounds for one reason or another and is invariably wrapped up in a chitenge. A chitenge is a piece of patterned material, measuring roughly 1x2 meters, worn as a sarong and while functional (and more importantly tradition) it’s far from flattering. Many a cute derriere or lovely pair of pins are hidden away for private viewings only. This incidentally isn’t necessarily a bad thing in my humble opinion. It’s just that having it on display is a nice contrast to what I’ve been used to in my village life.


This productive little day trip to Lusaka was wonderful, a delightful day to contrast against my quiet life in the village. Amongst other things, I drank coffee, I wrote, I people watched and I browsed through shops. I felt the buzz of crowds of people going about their own lives and remembered what it’s like to live in a city. I leave you with this funny little anecdote though which happened to me as I found myself walking up and down the aisles of a supermarket. (In your best David accent) Look. CHOICE!! And look at all this fresh fruit and vegetables. And look at the eh…, oh dear Lord, look at the price! Quick, get me back to Chikuni…

Your day-tripper in the middle nowhere