Lions, Giraffes & Elephants, Oh My! Part 4: Victoria Falls

Zimbabwe is home to one of the seven natural wonders of the world. It is the center of the country’s tourist industry.

Locals call it Mosi-Oa-Tunya, or, The Smoke That Thunders.

The mist rising to the sky in plumes that resemble smoke. The sound of the falls thunderous as the massive amounts of water pound the rocks below.

We know it as Victoria Falls.

The first European explorer to see the falls was Dr. David Livingstone. The Scotsman named them after his Queen, Queen Victoria. 

Fed by the Zambezi River, the falls are certainly regal. Majestic. And amazingly breathtaking. They cover a one-mile expanse and drop into the Zambezi Gorge

They are also very, very wet.

The mist so thick at times (depending on the strength of the wind combined with the water level of the Zambezi), you can’t even see the falls in some areas. It’s during such times that you can expect to get soaked.

The moisture seeping into your bones. Straight through your poncho. And when the wind kicks up just right, you might as well have just stepped from the shower.

Still, it’s a most incredible sight.

The city of Vic Falls is surrounded by the National Park. A park, like all the other game reserves, that is filled with wild animals.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise then, to see the unsightly warthog on the perfectly manicured lawn of the iconic Victoria Falls Hotel. But still, it was. A surprise. 

Isn't it cute how they kneel when they eat?

Not so surprisingly, was an animal conservation center. One that cares for injured animals in hopes that one day, they can be released into the wild. The center also hosts school visits as most local children have never seen the animals one might see in a game reserve.

It was at the center where we first met 5.5 ton Jumbo (along with a handful of other elephants).

The gentle giant’s trunk would’ve easily made two golf bags. His skin, leathery. His hair, wiry. His appetite equal to his name.

“Trunk up” and you toss a handful of the treats into his mouth. Getting a good look at those chompers and backing away quickly.  Because you know, you're standing between his rather large gigantic tusks.  And yeah, I know he and his fellow pachyderms are herbivores, but still ...

Despite the bustling tourist industry in Vic Falls, many of the people, unable to find work, leave the city and opt to return to rural living.

On the outskirts of town lies the homestead of one Chief Mpisi of the Ndebele tribe. The Chief’s village spans 35 square miles. His homestead houses him and 16 members of his extended family. 

Before he shared with us, a glimpse into village life, he asks each of us our names. “Sharon,” he said, “flowers.” Keith, “the wind”.

He wasn’t wrong.

He talked of village life - economics, farming, education. He touched on politics (American politics, in particular, when asked), made a brief and very pointed statement about our current administration and quickly moved on. He is a wise man.

We stepped into the hut occupied by 4 of his granddaughters. In it, two concrete blocks on which lay two twin mattresses. A single dresser held the girls’ belongings.

Mpisi’s hut, one of the larger ones in the compound, contained two rooms. One contained a table & chairs and his “office” - a single desk from which he conducts business for the 19,000-member village. And a second room that sleeps he, his wife and one child.

Each of his children and their families have their own hut.

The kitchen, used for communal cooking, sits in the center. Here, the women tend to the cooking over an open fire. The smoke fills the room and your lungs, as there is no ventilation.

As we left, the Chief took my hand. “He (Keith) works hard to make you happy,” he said, “you take good care of him.” It wasn’t an observation. It was a directive.

More wise words from a wise man.

We ate dinner in the township of Chinotimba. Chinotimba is not a shanty town (which is what I would normally think of when I hear the word ‘township’). It’s also not a rural village, like that of Chief Mpisi’s village. It’s a regular neighborhood. Homes built of cinder blocks and concrete.

We are invited to the home of Tich and Luni Tandi. Luni has prepared for us, a meal of polenta, beef stew, chicken stew, kale, kale and peanut butter, and kale and carrots. They really like kale.

The polenta, a large round mound of white corn, resembles mashed potatoes, if a little stiffer. It is used in the same way a fork or spoon would be used: to pick up the meats or the veggies. There are utensils set out on the table, but we choose to eat the way Luni and her family eat: with our fingers.

For dessert, she serves salty fish (similar to sardines) and worms.  All but one of us passed on the delicacies.  Keith was the brave soul who saved us all from offending our host.  He reports that neither the fish, nor the worms, tasted like chicken.

Over dinner, Luni, a beautiful storyteller, tells of growing up in Zimbabwe, her three children, and details the very complicated process of getting engaged and then married. 

It’s more than a matter of how many cows will transfer hands between the prospective groom and his fiancée’s parents.

A woman’s aunt (or grandmother) will serve as her advisor throughout the engagement period. It is the aunt, in Luni’s case, who was responsible for ensuring that Luni was … “in tact”, she says. A virgin.

But she left a little something out of the narrative.

Apparently, it’s not uncommon, for the prospective groom’s family to request assurances that his betrothed is, in fact, fertile. In order to confirm this, the woman is sent away to be with a distant cousin.

And by “be with”, I mean, doing the deed.

If she bares him, this cousin, a child, then it can be said that the deal (the engagement) is a good one, guaranteeing children to be born into the marriage. The child then reared by the cousin’s family.

Scandalous.

Once married, the groom and his family must pay their debt (the agreed-upon number of cows) before the woman passes away. If this debt is not paid, the woman cannot be buried until it is. We’re still not sure what would be done with the body. Luni didn’t seem to be too worried about it since Tich had already paid the ten-cow fee to her parents.

Before we leave Vic Falls, we visit the Chinotimba Government School. The elementary school sponsored by the tour company we are traveling with. 

We are greeted by the sounds of singing and drums beating. As we get closer to the classroom, the children greet us with native dance and song.

At the end of the program, each child steps forward to tell us their name, age and what they want to be when they grow up. They speak quickly, perhaps because of nerves. But I do catch that several want to be teachers. Others, electrical or chemical engineers.

1800 students study at Chinotimba. The number of classrooms, insufficient, forcing the students to attend in ‘shifts’. They take basic elementary courses. There is a computer lab. The older students take home economics and carpentry - both boys and girls. 

Volunteers cook lunch; and for some students, this is the only meal they will eat that day.

Yet the students smile. And wave.

Zimbabwe was spectacular. Largely because of the spirit of the people. Despite the corruption and their bleak economic situation, they recognize they have to move forward themselves.

They are responsible for their own happiness.

We, the students, have been taught well.

Our next stop: Kruger National Park!