Victoria Falls at the End of the Dry Season Pt. 1

I live about 3 hours drive from Victoria Falls (1hour $2.00 minibus ride + 2 hour $10.00 big bus ride).  So you can rest assured that there will be a Victoria Falls at the beginning of the End of Dry Season Pt. 2 and a Victoria Falls in the Rainy Season Pt. 1 and 2 to come in due time.  This first adventure took place at the end of September.  I apologize for not writing about it sooner but My internet access where I live is restricted to my hotmail account which I get on my cellphone.  Which is still kind of incredible since there is no electricity or running water at my home yet I check my emails everyday.  But this is getting off track.

The end of the rainy season is when the Zambezi river which flows over the falls is at its lowest.  It hasn't rained here since March but the rains will come in November.  This is the only time of year when they allow white water rafting on the river as the rest of the year it is too dangerous.  As it was we almost died on the first rapid.  This was the first time I had been on water and seen a life jacket as an absolute necessity to survival.  Without the life jacket I would have been at the mercy of the endless supply of whirlpools undertows and 2 meter high rapids that would gladly drag a perso to the bottom of the 50 meter deep river.

The first rapid was the worst.  There were 8 in the boat, one guide and 7 rookies.  We weren't used to paddling and maintaining our balance while moving up and down 2 meters yet (plus there were 2 British guys in our boat who were very hungover from their adventures the night before). Because of where we placed our boats in the river we had to cut across the current on the first rapid.  We started paddling hard but when we hit the first wave half of us fell into the middle of the raft.  We lost all our power and momentum and the current swept us into a wave at the edge of the river which flipped us easily and suddenly the river was speckled with bobbing heads and paddles.  I managed to hold onto the raft and so pulled myself up underneath the flipped raft.  This made my life a lot easier since I wasn't dragged under water and forced to hold my breathe but I was the only one who managed to hold on.  The rest were all saved by their life jackets and the other rafts.  The rest of the rapids were just as crazy but were were used to paddling so we only flipped once more and that was on purpose (kind of) and we all managed to hold onto the boat then.

Rapid Number 1 (400m from the bottom of the falls)

I would recommend this adventure to anyone who is getting bored of riding roller coasters.

As for the falls the pictures will do them justice.

Western Novelties

The western novelties are slowly flowing into Zambia and when I arrived I brought with me one more, UNO.  This amusing and easily learned card game gives players a chance to jokingly barrage their friends with +2,+4 and skip cards but after that they must graciously receive the same punishment in return.  Then of coarse there is the thrilling race to rid yourself of cards which climaxes with the calling of UNO and final for one lucky sole the game ends in a victory dace as the final card is laid.  The effect of this foreign novelty was far greater than I had anticipated and the game spread like a bush fire across the grass plains which haven't received rain since March.  The children from the surrounding homes made sure they stopped by our place every afternoon for a few rounds of the UNO game that itself became an event lasting all afternoon.  But like so many other western novelties their appeal quickly wares out.  I got bored after 2 days the kids lasted 2 weeks and then they asked me to teach them a new game.  The strategy of Janitor proved to difficult to explain through the language barrier and Cheat never caught on.  The really young ones still play UNO from time to time but the game now mostly consists of throwing cards on the floor and then giggling.

I've started playing soccer now instead of UNO.  My village of Mboole has a soccer team called Mboole United that often plays competitive, spectator drawing games against other towns.  I started training with the team this week and they invited me to play a game with them against neighbouring rivals Sikolongo.  The game was on Wednesday and so I made the 10km bike to Sikolongo along a dirt/sandy road with my 8 year old host brother Chipego riding on the back of my bike.  When the whole team got to Sikolongo we found out that the plans had changed and we were supposed to be playing in a town 4 km away.  Well the sun was quickly setting and we realised that there was no way we would be able to make it there and play before the sun went down so we just went home.  At least I got some good exercise and some good looks along the way.

One final note, on the way to type this up I was riding into town on the back to a pickup truck / flat bed truck.  There were about 8 of us in the bed and we all had a fair amount of space to spread out.  All of the sudden we passed a huge farm with 30 farm workers standing outside all wanting transport to town.  We managed to pack 20 of them onto our truck before someone realized that the Police would slap the drivers with a hefty fine if we were caught.  So to prevent us from getting caught on man thought it would be a good idea if everyone started singing a Christian song so the Police would think that we were all going to some church conference and not stop us.  So for 20km on the back of this truck 20 farm workers filled the air with music. The time went quickly.

Worlds Colliding

I have been living with my host family for 1.5 weeks now.  We live in the small village of Mboole about 3km of walking and then 50km by minibus to the town of Choma which is the bustling service centre to all of the surrounding villages.  The family is large by North American standards with 2 parents 2 daughters, 2 sons and a grand daughter all under one roof.  From what I've heard this is a small family by Zambian standards but its certainly not out of the ordinary in that there are lots of little kids around all the time.
Last Saturday I was commissioned by my host parents to make a Canadian dish for them for dinner.   I choose spaghetti.   I figured that because it is by far the meal that i most frequently make for my self so that was enough to make it Canadian.  So anyway off to Choma I went to buy ingredients for my dinner.  Choma is a mixture of open markets selling locally made goods and South African owned shops selling western style brands and products.  Western culture is slowly being transported from South Africa through the trucking veins and arteries and to Choma where it slowly diffuses to the previously untouched surrounding villages.  But to get the ingredients for my Western meal I have to submit to the big South African grocery chain SPAR.  The rest of our meals consists of Nshima (a yellow paste made of corn meal) with chicken, Nshima with cabbage, Nshima with beans and occasionally rice. My family usually makes a weekly trip to Choma for meetings and grocery shopping but they are for the most part able to buy local for their meals.
During the ride home from Choma I look out the window and see some women carrying jugs of water on their heads past mud and straw homes.  As my host mother sends a text message on her cell phone the radio infuses my ears with Western pop songs.  Suddenly Shania Twain comes blaring through the speakers.  My two worlds are colliding.