Youtube has long had a reputation for harbouring some fairly sheltered people. Any suggested replies to this message?
krisct80 has sent you a message:
African??
To:adpsimpsonhello my name is krissie, i am white and live in the usa, i just found your videos of africa, i think theyre great! just a quick question, the past few months i have become OBSESSED with white people in africa considering its only been a few months that i learned white people actually LIVE in africa!! yes its true, 31 yrs old and had no clue!!! its funny and embarassing at the same time, anyway are you from africa?and if so where?do u still live there? and isint it incredibly dangerous for whites in africa ESPECIALLY zimbabwe?!?!?!?thanks for your time
In 1855, as he explored the Zambezi river as a possible route inland, David Livingstone became the first outsider ever to set eyes on the Seventh Natural Wonder of the World, “The Steam that Thunders,” and patriotically renamed it Victoria Falls.
We visited at the height of an exceptional wet season, with somewhere around 10 million litres of water per second cascading 108 metres down over the 1.7km wide fall.
They are set in the heart of classic bandit country, on the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. With baboon and elephant-sized holes in every fence in the region, and nice picnic sites along the main road used as mugging honey-pots (2 elderly couples staying beside us had been held up by 4 or 5 men with machetes the day we arrived), we left our valuables locked securely in Finn and drove Ben down for the day.
From the Zambian side, only a small fraction of the falls is accessible, and even that is so shrouded in mist that it is basically not visible. Even that fraction of a fraction is, well, impressive. Niagara, eat your heart out. The lions and elephants wild in the surrounding forest trump casinos and hotels, too, although the hippos wallowing in mud did remind me slightly of the American diners.
With “Activities” including bungee jumps, gorge swings and microlight flights universally overpriced by about 400% (15 minutes in a microlight costing the same as a jump, at nearly $150), we opted for the foot-based self-guided tour, and didn’t regret it.
Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, had been our on-again, off-again base for nearly 2 weeks by the time we finally picked up Aaron and Katherine (Surfers 16 and 17) and headed away.
We have met many people who consider Africa to be “the bush,” with cities and population centres an inconvenient necessity. The genuine Africa is found in small homesteads and rural villages, with cities an imposed European influence. There is a large tourist industry geared up to this ideal, offering village and cultural tours, drumming lessons, traditional artefacts for sale and the like.
These people buy or hire rugged 4x4s, set out on safari and find the worse roads possible to get stuck on for days at a time or, in our case, set agendas through the most rural sections of a country possible.
Which is great, and good fun, and with the vehicles we have it would be irresponsible to avoid the fun times. But I disagree with the driving belief. To taste and see a country, it is essential to first taste and see the large cities.
We were discussing these dilemmas with Mike, who had just returned from the bush, and he asked if I would send visitors to Scotland to the Highlands or central Glasgow. An interesting question. Is it possible to “see” Scotland without visiting Princess Street, or seeing the ship-building on the Clyde? Can you understand Northern Ireland without seeing the peace lines in Belfast and Derry?
Cities are the nerve centres of a country. Politicians live and work there, newspapers and books are printed and sold, culture is developed. It there that people are well informed and have vocal opinions. It is there that contact with people is not just easy, but required.
Maintenance of the trucks has meant whole days at a time in run-down areas of large cities, hunting shop to shop, or spending hours sitting chatting as a job is done. It was in Lilongwe, with Ben up on blocks, that we met John, running after every minibus that arrived on the street, looking for work. It was Kampala where we met Shanwe, a young girl in the motor shop who sat quietly until she finally said to Louise, “can we be friends?” It was Khartoum and Damascus where we realised the propaganda in our home media has avoided the fact completely that countries cities are open, functioning societies that welcome visitors (though their governments are less tolerant). It was Damascus where the hotelier lent us $100 from his pocket to allow us to eat out after arriving late.
Cities are also where crimes happen – it was in Dar es Salaam that someone reached in through the window to lift a wallet and ipod (he got neither), and Harare where someone slashed our tyre and followed us. To pretend they are always lovely places would be a lie, and having Ben and Finn adds to the logistics. But they are the heart and soul of a country, and to miss or skip through them would leave a very one-sided view of a country.
In the 1960s, the Zambezi was dammed at a narrowing where it forms the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe, then North and South Rhodesia. The scale of the project is staggering, with one of the largest man-made lakes in the world behind it.
As the project progressed, a town called Siavonga was founded for the construction works. From the start, a fishing industry was planned, and tourism was expected. The fishing industry flourished for a few decades, but is now in decline for the usual African reasons – over extraction and under management. The tourism industry never really took off in Siavonga, largely because the other side of the lake, in Zimbabwe, is a National Park, and so has a stronger pull: if visiting Lake Kariba, most people want to see animals and go fishing.
However, if what you want to see is a sleepy and unusually welcoming village, on the shore of a beautiful lake with stunning sandy beaches, Siavonga is a perfect destination. Pack the hammock, a good book and some sunglasses, and you’ll be in bliss.
Because the industries in the town were very much planned, there are an unusually high number of white Afrikaners. We were invited back for tea with Gerda, a friendly lady who, with her husband, runs a large kapenta fishing business. As a side line, her son builds the fishing rigs (large pontoon style boats with a bright light that attracts the fish, and a net on booms that scoops them out), along with any other boats that people want. Several (or all?) of the large tourist boats in the town are their handywork.
The lake was in flood while we stayed; 2 of the 6 floodgates in the dam were open. A truly awesome sight. People in the town seemed to imply that they’ve never needed to open more than 2, but the water level was still dangerously high (chalets in the first campsite we stayed were all under water). Opening more than that is an international affair though, leading to downstream flooding for over a thousand kilometres in Zambia, Zimbabwe and Mozambique.
After two days we returned to Lusaka and, the next day, it was time to say goodbye to Simon, Surfer number 15. Our lone evening together was spent in the company of Max and Julian, two jolly, talkative Germans. The next day we found ourselves back at the airport – 11 out of 15 airport visits now complete, we took Aaron and Katharine onwards to Livingstone, the site of Victoria Falls.
ps – Happy Birthday Heather!