We Survived Rapid Five

When we rolled out of Lusaka on Friday en route to Livingstone, I wasn’t sure what to expect from the next three days. What followed was one of the most adventurous and fun weekends I’ve had in a long time. I hope my summaries together with the pictures will do justice to our experiences.

Arriving at our hostel Friday night, we briefly explored Livingstone’s main drag before calling it an early night. In the morning I was able to meet up with Erin, the only other Princeton in Africa Fellow in Zambia, for a delicious breakfast. It was really nice to see firsthand where she lives and works and hear more about what her fellowship experience has been like. While we reside in the same country, our lives definitely differ in a lot of ways. I’m envious of her proximity to nature, Victoria Falls and all the outdoor activites around.

After breakfast, I caught up with our group which had grown as people continued to arrive from Lusaka by bus. We set off for the falls toting our cameras, bathing suits and plenty of sunblock. We stopped off at the bridge connecting Zimbabwe and Zambia, where two of our friends zip-lined across the canyon, before arriving at the main park. Losing all track of time, and probably giving myself mild heat exhaustion, I wandered up and down the path facing the falls with my camera and tripod looking for good shots. As it is the height of dry season, the flow of the falls is a mere trickle compared to the last time I’d seen it in 2008. The water was less impressive, but it allowed us the chance to really get a look at the enormous gorge and the towering walls. 

I made it back to the group just in time for our afternoon tour along the edge of the falls. 11 of us and our guide picked our way across what is typically the rushing Zambezi River, but is currently a mostly dried up rocky riverbed. We traced a path literally right along the edge of the gorge towards the ominously named Devil’s Pool. Fearlessly, we forded the remnants of the river and picked our way over stones worn smooth by flowing water. Finally, we reached our destination; a pool of water directly on the edge of the cliff. 

(The group ahead of us in Devil's Pool)

The pool is formed by a uniquely shaped rock which marks the edge of the cliff and encloses some of the water from the current. On both sides, the river still rushes past and tumbles down the canyon wall. From a rocky island we jumped into this fairly small pool. We were instructed to carefully jump far enough to avoid the rocks at the near edge, but not so far as to leap over the 300 ft drop directly behind. Being in Devil’s Pool stands out as one of the most simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying moments of my life. Two feet to my left and I would have joined the rushing flow plunging to the base of the falls. Instead, we were treated to an up close perspective of the raw power of the falls and enjoyed a beautiful sunset from atop one of the wonders of the world.

The following day we white water rafted down the Zambezi. In a convoy of large yellow rafts we put into the river below the Zim/Zam bridge, just after where the falls come crashing down. Rafting the Zambezi is best in the dry season, and we came at a time when the river is at just the right height and the rapids are at their finest. Never having been rafting before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. It became apparent to me from the very first rapid how absurd this experience was going to be. We basically paddled as fast as we could into each rapid, then threw ourselves at its mercy. In the bigger rapids, there were huge drops followed by giant walls of whitewater that would smash across the raft, sweeping away anything, or anyone, that wasn’t properly secured. 

On Rapid 5, known as the Stairway to Heaven (or, the Highway to Hell), we experienced our flipping fiasco. I can really only describe what transpired based on the video footage we watched at the end of the trip; everything in the moment was just water and whiteness. We crashed hard into the first wall of water in the rapid and our raft flipped easily, flinging two of us away and trapping two underneath. 

We continued through the rest of the rapid in these less than ideal locations. Those under the boat fought their way out and clung on. The other “long swimmer” and I were eventually picked up by safety guides in kayaks who had followed us in. For those 15 to 30 seconds in between, though, the experience was pretty harrowing. Getting to the surface was a struggle, but even then it was difficult to catch any breath as I got hammered again and again by white walls of water. All the while I’m trying to remember how to position my body to avoid getting my feet caught in rocks or slamming into them head-on. Needless to say, I was very happy when the kayaker fought his way close enough for me to grab hold. Clambering back into the raft at the end of the rapid, out of breath and shaken, we looked around at each other with wide eyes. The Zambezi had shown us who was boss, and we continued onward with that lesson in our minds. 

Minus the temporary loss of one of our shipmates to Rapid 7, we passed through the remaining rapids without any more serious incidents. In total we traveled 27 winding kilometers through 24 rapids. They ranged in size from small enough for us to intentionally swim through to one that was so dangerous we were forced to walk around it. In between rapids we admired the towering canyon walls, did a little swimming and conducted a few inter-raft raids. Exhausted, sunburned and soaked to the core at the end of the day, we were nonetheless happy and triumphant. Despite the occasional near-drowning experience, I wouldn't hesitate to go rafting again.

Monday was a holiday (Independence Day) so we didn’t have to hurry back to Lusaka. We woke up early Monday morning, had another delicious breakfast, then drove over to the Mosi o Tunya game reserve to do a short self-drive. Even in the morning the sun was strong and the heat seemed to push most of the animals into the shade and out of sight. We were lucky enough to locate one of the park guards who led us on foot to see the rhinos. The only seven white rhinos in all of Zambia are located in this park and are guarded 24/7 to protect them from poachers. We got close enough to see one of the mothers and her calf and take a few photographs before beating a hasty retreat back to the car. Having been charged a few times, our guide was happy to play it safe. Still, it was incredible to see these enormous tanks of animals in their natural habitat. Satisfied with this as a proper ending to our trip, we hit the road and made it back to Lusaka in good time. I've already started planning my next trip to Livingstone.

Hello Hot Season

There’s no doubting it anymore- the hot season has arrived. Though it’s only been in the mid to upper 90’s, the sun burns with exceptional intensity. It’ the kind of heat that will render the inside of your car a blistering, uninhabitable wasteland if you leave it parked in the sun for long. The sun just bakes the asphalt to the point where walking feels more like being roasted from all sides in an oven. Hopefully it will only be a few more weeks before the rains come and cool things down a bit. Although, if I don’t get serious about fixing the A/C in my car, I may not make it that far.

Speaking of cars, keeping my cool has been even trickier thanks to a week of automotive troubles. First, failing brakes and unnatural sounds coming from under the hood forced me to hand my car over to the mechanic (again). The mechanic we use is a great guy, and knowing how much I need a car for my job, he offered to let me use his while he worked on mine. It was a good temporary solution, but his car requires even more loving attention than my own. Heavily tinted windows make driving at night complicated. A lack of wiper blades makes driving in the rain problematic. A broken windshield makes driving in general tricky. Even getting in the car is difficult as there are no handles and only two of the doors unlock. The shifter sticks, the interior lights frequently go off, and this morning I woke up to find one of the tires had deflated. He did warn me the fuel gauge was “deceptive,” but I learned the hard way today just how misleading it could be. Driving down the highway, I found out that a quarter tank actually means completely and utterly empty. Thankfully, there was a filling station nearby which I limped into, literally running on the fumes of fumes.

On a more positive note, there have been some really cool things going on at work lately. First of all, we’ve reached the final stage of our selection process for next year’s scholarship recipients. We spent many hours last week driving all over Lusaka to interview the 15 students who received top marks on the exam we administered last month. Visiting their homes and talking with the students allowed us to make a more detailed assessment of both their vulnerability and their personalities. I think we all came away with a better idea of who will make the best additions to our program. Unfortunately, funding limitations will probably not allow us to take all 15 students, so we will be facing some difficult decisions soon.

There has also been a lot of progress with one of our student community service projects. A group of both KF and non-KF students at Chalo Trust School have been working on a project dealing with the environment; specifically the dangers of plastics and improper waste disposal. In conjunction with students from the International School of Lusaka and various non-profits, we have been looking for ways to take this project to the next level. The idea is to use different mediums (art, literature, music…) to spread messages about dangers to the environment, and also health, to members of the students’ communities. The first steps toward this goal are beginning to be realized; some students have been making art projects out of recycled materials while others have written a simple book which talks about a particular environmental risk in communities. Today I took the story to a primary school to be illustrated by the younger students there.  

(KF, Chalo and ISL students working on artwork made from recycled materials)

Outside of work, the next few weeks are shaping up to be pretty interesting. We’re heading to Livingstone for the upcoming long weekend where we’re planning to whitewater raft and walk along the edge of Victoria Falls. I’m also hoping to be able to cross into Zimbabwe and meet up with the couple whose home I stayed at 3 years ago. The following weekend is Halloween, and after that my housemates’ production company (R&G Events) is throwing another party. They’ve purchased a foam cannon which, we have discovered, can bury a car and half a dozen people in under 5 minutes. 

(The foam machine in action)

Before the festivities at night, there will be a Frisbee tournament involving hopefully a hundred people from all over Zambia. We ordered some custom Frisbees for the occasion that I helped design. They just arrived this week and look pretty great. Expect some good stories and new photos soon!

(Our ZamUltimate Frisbees)

Mission: Malawi

It was still dark when we loaded our belongings into the taxi, conducted a final bleary-eyed review of the essential items, and set off for the bus station. Arriving in time to catch an earlier bus, we squeezed our way on board, crammed our bags into any remaining spaces, and, settling into our seats, eagerly awaited the beginning of our journey to the Lake of Stars music festival in Malawi.

The driver must have known we were music lovers because he wasted no time in putting on his vast collection of gospel hits, sung in auto-tuned Nyanje with elaborate synth accompaniment. As it was very early and most people looked ready to doze off, he made sure to set the volume somewhere between ear-splitting and mind-numbing to prevent anyone from missing out. So, from 5:45 in the morning to about 9, our thoughts, dreams, even our very existence, was fully pervaded by these soulful serenades. At our first pit-stop somewhere in the mountains of central Zambia, we finally got a reprieve, allowing our brains a chance to reform to their original shape. But even after starting out again the music remained paused. We wondered; could we be so lucky? But it was merely an opportunity for some sermonizing from a fellow passenger. So while enjoying our complementary pineapple Fantas, we dutifully learned about thieves and good shepherds, though I find it hard to recall how they were related. In an abrupt and concerning turn of events, the entertainment following the preacher was Wrong Turn 3: Left for Dead, a gratuitously violent movie involving murderous cannibal hillbillies and concluding with the death of every character in the film. Fully over-stimulated by this point, we spent the remainder of the trip in a confused catatonic state, and were all too happy when the bus rolled into our final destination: Chipata. We stayed the night in this border town with a friend, collected two more compatriots from the airport in the morning, then in a hired van, the five of us set out for Malawi.

Immediate impressions of Malawi found many similarities with Zambia, but that’s not surprising considering the permeable, flexible borders and shared heritage. Quickly, the landscape opened up. Rolling green plains were strewn with immense rock formations jutting out in angular ways like sinking ships. We passed through the capital, Lilongwe, and though it was hard to explain why, we could definitely feel we were in a different country. In a few hours we drew close to the mountains and began ascending into their heights. Through them we traced a twisting and meandering route, peppered with hair-pin turns, the kind at the end of which you find you’ve been unconsciously holding your breath. At last, we made it to the other side and could see massive Lake Malawi stretched across the horizon.

The festival was held directly on the lake, so both our campsite and the stage area were on the beach. After sorting out some logistical problems due to the lack of cell service, we were able to set up camp before nightfall and made it to the first night of music. In the morning, we were awoken by sunrise and, climbing out of our tents, were struck by the view. Amongst palms of different varieties and heights, colorful tents dotted the beach like blooming exotic flowers, rain flies fluttering in the cool breeze coming off the water. 

(The campsite)

Ringing the expansive lake, implied ghosts of purple mountains could be seen through mist.  During the day, even in the morning, the heat was intense. Luckily, this was one of those rare African lakes that are swimmable- you risk a couple parasites but at least there are few crocodiles. We divided our days between swimming, lounging and eating. The most active we got was either climbing a nearby hill or the dancing in the sand all night (actually pretty tiring). 

(From the hill: stage can been seen on beach through trees on center right)

The second night was the musical highlight of the trip, and the best of the best had to have been Freshlyground, a South African group. I’ve been hearing of them for years but had missed many chances to see them live. I guess they’ve reached a pretty high level of fame by this point; last year they recorded WakaWaka with Shakira for the World Cup. When they played that as an encore (sans Shakira) the whole beach was just a moving mass of happy faces. We had one more day and night to soak in all the beauty of the lake, the happy music and the friendly people before having to say goodbye. Early Monday morning we climbed, exhausted but happy, into our van and started back the way we came.

In our short journey we saw a beautiful face of Malawi, but we also got a glimpse of another side of the country. It is currently undergoing both political and economic upheaval as the ruling party dukes it out with both foreign governments and unhappy citizens. 40% of Malawi’s budget comes from foreign aid, and the UK is the primary contributor. However, after a row over alleged mishandling of government money and authority (read: shiny new jet for the president), diplomatic relations with Britain have crumbled. The British high commissioner was expelled and in retaliation, Britain, followed by others, froze much of its aid. A lack of foreign exchange has inhibited the purchasing of fuel to the point where, “fuel stations are just for decoration here,” as our driver put it. The rare station that has gas also has long lines of cars. Lack of fuel and new austerity measures have sparked deadly riots around the country.

Even in our brief travels across the country we felt the effects of these problems. Running out of gas on our way home, we spent almost an hour in Lilongwe looking for somewhere to refill. With all the uncertainty and scarcity of fuel, it was surprising to see the roads still jammed with cars. In the end we had to drive all the way to a bootlegger’s house to get 5 liters out of a water jug. I’m certain we burned more than that searching for it. Our journey was complicated further by another particularly ugly side-effect of the country’s woes. All along the roads we had to contend with an ever present, ever greedy, Malawian police force. We must have gone through over a dozen “checkpoints” over the course of the trip, sometimes as close as five minutes apart. Probably unpaid by the government, their salaries are made up by “fines” collected at these stops. Time and time again we were stopped and payment was unrelentingly demanded. It passed the point of reasonable; even our calm driver was pushed to extreme agitation. We finally limped our way back into Zambia, and I couldn’t suppress a smile as the friendly customs agent stamped my passport: it was a spectacular trip, but it was good to be home.