Daniel Eliasson

Nature frequently puts on a show for those that keep their eyes open. Almost any landscape holds its own beauty, and twice daily the sun and horizon collaborate to please the eye. Some natural wonders are more insistent, and one can hardly help but notice them.

The Victoria falls, on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe, fall in the latter category. Already at a large distance from the falls, the spray is visible, looking like someone set a large fire on the horizon. The local name for the falls is Mosi-oa-Tunya, meaning the smoke that thunders, which is indeed an apt description.

Mosi-oa-Tunya in the background.

It’s not really possible to describe in words or pictures the awesome force of these falls, which have the world’s largest sheet of falling water with a width of 1 708 meters and a height of 108 metres. (The highest waterfall in the world is Angel Falls in Venezuela, which has a clear drop of 807 metres, so high that the water never reaches the bottom, but just drifts off as a mist.)

We camped near Livingstone, at a nice place with a restaurant right next to the Zambesi where you could enjoy a cold Mosi (the local beer, which wasn’t bad at all, unlike Botswana’s St Louis, which tasted like American beer.) and a view of the sun setting over the river.

Sunset over the Zambesi.

Mosi sundowners in the hotel bar.

The camping was also home to a large troop of monkeys, which look cute at first, but quickly make their way onto the nuisance list. They were constantly raiding trash cans all over the place, and as soon as we looked away, they’d come looking for food in our camp as well. They’d flee if you grabbed something in your hand at came toward them, but if you came empty-handed, the cheeky buggers would actually bare their teeth at you.

Monkeys are curious animals, this one tried to get hold of my camera lens.

They sure are cute when they're small.

Approaching the falls, the first thing you encounter is a large number of souvenir stalls selling the usual wooden kak and beads they peddle all over. The vendors were desperate to get hold of any currency, and would happily quote you prices in Zambian Kwachas, SA Rands, US Dollars, Euros or just accept trade-ins. For a box of cookies and R10, I bought a Z$10 000 000 000 000 note (10 trillion Zimoolah). Well, to be exact, it’s not really a bank note at all, it’s just a bearer cheque. Zimbabwe doesn’t have real money anymore.

Approaching the falls, rainwear is highly recommended. The spray is so strong that when you get close, it’s like being in a heavy rain that comes from both above and below all at once. Walking around in the sunshine, getting soaking wet, and seeing rainbows all around you was an amazing experience. At one place you cross a bridge, where on one side you see the magnificent falls (and get pummeled in the face with spray), and on the other you look down onto a rainforest-like vegetation with two full rainbow circles over it.

Rainbows for everyone!

The famous Victoria falls bridge, from which the bungee jumpers leapt.

Only 30 % of the falls are visible from the Zambia side, Zimbabwe has the view of the rest, so after visiting the falls, we also went on a helicopter ride over them, to get a good view of the whole shebang. The pilot was a South African man with a sarcastic sense of humour (“… and down there is Zimbabwe. If you look closely, you can see the inflation from here.”) who took us a few laps around a figure-8 over the falls, and also showed us a herd of elephants on the way back.

The falls and their spray from above. Rhodes commissioned the bridge to make the trains pass through the spray.

The next morning, our last order of business before leaving the falls was that Dian and Alet wanted to do a tandem bungee jump from the Victoria falls bridge. The bridge is located inside the border post between Zambia and Zimbabwe, with the border being marked out on signs halfway across the bridge, so we did actually cross into Zimbabwe, yet not far enough to pass through immigrations and get our passports stamped.

The jumpers weighed in and ready to go.

Zimbabwe!

The bridge is crowded with desperate Zimbabwean hawkers that try to get hold of any cash or piece of clothing they can, since it’s gotten impossible to buy anything at all in Zim. While we were waiting for the jump, we saw a procession of women crossing into Zimbabwe with boxes of groceries perched on their heads; presumably these women have to go to Zambia to be able to buy food. I wonder what the people do that don’t live next to the border.

Yours truly, not buying a pair of wooden masks looking like Chief What's-his-name and his Mrs.

There were 14 of us on this trip, divided in three families. The Strydom family was represented by mother Alet and father Rean, as well as daughters Janke and Stephanie. Also in the group was yours truly. The Naude family with father Schalk and son Dian, Schalks girlfriend Mari and her two children Lara and Stephan. Lastly, the Vorster family with father Gary, daughters Lana and Oena and son Schalk.

We traveled in 4×4-vehicles, which was good considering that we spent hours driving in Botswana on a road that had maybe 10 % tar and 90 % potholes, and we also did some driving on sandy roads in the parks.

We were camping, and to that end brought along a metric shitload of equipment (1 metric shitload = 2.287 English shitloads): a rooftop tent for the parents, a regular tent for the young ‘uns, inflatable mattresses, gas bottles, potjies, braai equipment, folding chairs, folding tables, a stand with washbasin and drying rack, a portable refridgerator, cool boxes, cabbage heads, butternuts, tinned food, onions, tomatoes, sugar, coffee, mielie-meal, soda water, whisky, beer etc. On top of this, of course, there were clothes, towels and hygiene products. Rean and I spent most of the holiday packing, unpacking and repacking the wagon and car, until we’d perfected the art to such a degree that we could do it with our eyes closed. In fact, just the other night, I sleepwalk-packed all my belongings into a box and hauled it onto the stoep, where I found it the next morning.

When we returned to Johannesburg, we still had some 72 tonnes of uneaten food that we’d taken out for a tour of Africa, including a head of cabbage that’d spent the entire trip causing headaches in the packing. The beer was all out, though.

Our transport: Toyota Prado and Bushbaby wagon.

An example of what the camp looked like. This picture taken in Caprivi, the Kavango river is located just 10 meters behind the photographer's position.

Drinking sundowners in Caprivi.

One man with a machete, two children with a pumpkin-watermelon-thing. Synergy.

So I’m back in Stellenbosch after a long absence, and I find myself with the somewhat pleasant problem of having so much to tell about my trips that I don’t quite know where to begin.

To summarise, I left Stellenbosch in mid-June together with Stephanie and Reane, and went to their parents’ house in Johannesburg. After a couple of days, we were joined by cousin Lauren, and us youngsters plus mother Alet went to visit the girls’ grandparents’ orange farm in the Laeveld in Mpumalanga. We also went to the Kruger National Park which is conveniently located just around the corner.

Back in Johannesburg, Lauren left to go back to the Cape, and we were joined by the last sister, Janke. Reane flew to London to go on a Contiki trip through Europe, and the rest of us—me, Stephanie, Janke, Alet and Rean—joined forces with two families of friends, and went on a camping tour of southern Africa.

We stopped at Rean’s brother’s game farm close to the Botswanian border, then entered Botswana and drove all the way up to the Zambesi river on the worst road I’ve ever seen. We visited the famous Chobe National Park, then crossed the Zambesi and entered Zambia. We stayed in Livingstone, where we went to see the magnificent Victoria Falls, and also got a chance to stand on the Victoria falls railway bridge between Zimbabwe and Zambia, where the Rhodesian government (unsuccessfully) met with the rebels in a train in 1975.

After the Vic falls, we crossed over to the Caprivi strip in northern Namibia, and drove almost all the way through it, to the incorrectly named Popa falls on the Kavango river (or possibly Okavango, it seems to be some sort of politics regarding that). We visited another wildlife park, and then crossed into Botswana again, making our way to Maun at the end of the Okavango delta, which we took a look at from a small aircraft. After that, all that remained was to make our way back, which was a two-day journey with a quick night in Francistown.

Back in Johannesburg, we unpacked, washed our clothes, and then repacked and went back to Stellenbosch last Tuesday, and the rest of the week was spent running errands and enjoying the calm of Stellenbosch before the return of the students. We also managed to fit in a very nice lunch at La Petite Ferme in Franschhoek. I had braised rabbit in wholegrain mustard sauce on a bed of polenta and buttered parsnips. Highly recommended.