Nyami! Nyami! Part 2
Posted by Malaz on August 27th, 2008
An early morning awaited us as we got ready to tackle the Mighty Zambizi. As usual we waited for our pick-up as it came a half hour late. A cold ride in an open truck later we met up with other tourists ready to raft down the river. We arrived, got our wetsuits and equipment, and listened as our guide explained us the instructions on how not to get ourselves killed out on the river. We split up into 5 groups and guess who we met up with, the Canadians from the night before. All the way into Africa and we had ourselves an all Canadian raft!
We proceeded to make our way down to the river. Now this I was not expecting, a horrendous half hour climb down Batoka Gorge. A few slips and bruises later we reached the river. We hopped into the raft and got some more instructions from our raft guide Cassias (the lead guide). Our start was delayed after a croc sighting but then we all courageously pressed on our way. Now there are 25 numbered rapids on the Zambizi but we started from no. 11. The first 10 were too challenging and were not open commercially, only for experts.
We had the time of our lives! We were all first timers yet we were the only raft not to capsize. Cassias was a great guide allowing us to jump off the raft when it was safe while the other rafters stayed put. And jump we did. We even went down a couple of the rapids with nothing but our lifejackets. What a thrill! Along the way we were also fortunate to do a cliff dive. Nothing too high but high enough to put in a good scare for some. Now I’m not one for heights but I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t even pause a second, as soon as I hit that ledge I was off. It’s the waiting and looking down that scares the hell out of you.
I can’t even describe the beauty of the scenery along the river through Batoka gorge, with Zambia on one side and Zimbabwe on the other. It was breathtaking. I have a 40 second video which I’ll upload when I get back in Canada. After a hell of a ride on the Zambizi we finally made it to the end, no casualties. We drudgingly made our way back up Batoka Gorge. My lower back cramped half way through and my march up was agony, embarrassingly I was the last one up. We were served a nice meal, given a certificate of achievement, and then taken back. We finished off the night with dinner at a nice restaurant with a live band playing. What a day!
The following day we went back to Vic Falls, this time to get up close and personal with it. The day started off with some souvenir shopping. They had a street in Livingstone just lined up with stalls, one after another, at least 50 or so. Man did these people want your business. It was a quick handshake pushing you into their stall and “Come in come in, it’s free to look. Look, touch, I’ll give you morning price.†And everyone had the same pitch! The stuff they were selling was great though and it wasn’t hard to get a good bargain. They loved to barter and the art of negotiation was half the fun of buying the crafts.
We finally made our way to the Falls and guess what was there before the entrance, like a hundred more stalls. With all the shopkeepers hollering at us to come in and get a morning price, they made it difficult to say no. We picked up a couple of trinkets and promised we’d be back after the Falls. I got myself a Nyami necklace.
The Nyami is the serpent God of the Zambizi River, wearing it keeps you safe. Legend has it the Nyami would come down to the villagers in times of drought. They would cut pieces of meat of its body for food. Nyami literally translated means meat. When the villagers were forced to relocate away from the Falls in 1958, they prayed to Nyami who then unleashed the worst flooding ever on the Zambizi to punish those against them. It is said now that Nyami got stuck along the river while its wife got stuck on top of the dam.
We made our way to the Falls and what a sight it was. Vic Falls is twice as wide (1.7km) and twice as deep (108m) as Niagara Falls. We made our way around all the walkways to see the Falls from many angles. The mist from the Falls was everywhere. I was told during rainy season, not to even bother coming out as we would be completely drenched from the mist, but it wasn’t too bad now. Someone told us we can make our way down to see the Falls from way down below and the walk would be a few minutes. Liars! We were expecting a manmade concrete path but ended up walking down a sandy and dirt cliff side and then wading through streams of water for 20 minutes. We weren’t even sure where we were going until we got there, it was like hiking through the forest with no sense of direction. But it was worth the trouble. We made it to the bottom where the Falls met the Zambizi. Between the Falls, the river, and the gorge, what landscape!
After hanging around there for a while, taking in the scenery we made our way back up the rough terrain and back to the shops. Some more haggling and a few more crafts. I struck up a conversation with one of the shopkeepers. He told me that the land was theirs and they paid nothing for those stalls. They were all from the same village which got relocated. There were 300 of them sharing the stalls trying to make some money from the tourists. It was a tough life, so much competition amongst the few tourists looking to buy. I told him I was going to work at an arts and crafts place. He was intrigued and invited me back to their village to meet the chief. If only I could, what an experience it would have been. Alas I was pressed for time and needed to leave for work the next day. I left him with my info and told him to call me.
After leaving the Falls we hurried back to catch a sunset cruise on the Zambizi. It was another great experience with fantastic scenic views. We saw a few hippos, crocs, and baboons and got to meet more interesting people. A nice dinner on the cruise and then a live band playing by camp fire, it was another great day in Zambia.
That night it was time for goodbyes. The girls were continuing their trip up to Chobe National Park and then the Okavango Delta. Lucky them. It was time for me to report to work. I got up in the morning, caught a taxi back to the border and got swindled by the cabbie for a few extra bucks. Not uncommon when you’re a tourist I suppose. I got to customs which was a complete mess. After passing through I had no more local currency but had to pay for the ferry to get back to Botswana. I spotted a tour operator taking care of a bunch of Italians and managed to catch a ride in their boat to get across. Tito was a nice guy and willing to help me out. You find a lot of people like that when you’re travelling. As much as you can get ripped off, there are enough people out there willing to give you a hand. With my faith in the goodness of people restored I jumped into a cab in Botswana and made my way to the bus rank (station).
The cabbie told me all the buses had already left for the day. It was 9 in the morning! Being the long weekend I wasn’t the only one stranded. He dropped me off on the side of the road where a hundred people or so were there looking to hitch a ride as well. It wasn’t going to be easy to get a ride! Again I struck up a conversation with someone and he said he’d help get a ride but we could be here all day.
About 2 hours later I finally managed to catch a ride. It was a combie(mini minibus) and he fleeced me along with everyone else. Let’s face it, a hundred people and only a few cars passing by, he could charge whatever he wanted. Did he ever stuff people into that combie. We were 17 people packed into what would seat 10 people comfortably. Another uncomfortable ride but hey, at least I was sitting down this time.
I left the combie at Nata, a small crossroad town to catch the bus to Maun. It was late but I managed to catch the last bus. 5 minutes later and I would have been stranded for the night. I got onto the bus and three quarters of it was kids, well teenagers. They were coming back from a conference and were happy to talk to a “white man†as they called me. They taught me some Setswana, the local language of Botswana, and I taught them some French and Arabic. We did have to stop as the bus driver was driving a bus with no headlights, crazy. An hour and a mechanic later, we hit the road. We all had a good time on that bus.
I got picked up from Maun from my local WUSC rep, spent a night at a very nice hostel and then left the following afternoon to my destination town of Gantsi. My travelling time was over and it was time to get working.
