Waterfalls and Wetlands

This vacation was a whirlwind of sites, sounds, and good company. Ken and I started our journey out of Windhoek by climbing aboard the Intercape Bus on the 17^th of August. A fellow WorldTeach volunteer named Erika and her sister Emily were also there, and about five hours later at the northern stop in Tsumeb we were joined by five other volunteers Josh, Rachel, Dan, Jennica, and Abby. Everyone on their way to Victoria Falls. About fourteen hours after that we finally arrived in Livingstone, Zambia—my first trip outside of Namibia in almost eight months.

Livingstone was not a particularly attractive town but it did feel alive and for the most part welcoming. We all stayed at a fun backpackers called Jolly Boys—primarily because they offered a package allowing us to get into Zambia without paying the US$100 fee required for all Americans. Everyone was in a good mood—free from school, free from our sites, free from the responsibility of all those failed exams. (And the volunteers who were with us are some of my favorites in the whole program). I could see my own relaxation reflected on the faces of those around me.

The next morning Ken, Abby, and I went to see the Falls from the Zambian side. Victoria Fall,s formed by the mighty Zambezi River stretches, one mile across Zambia and Zimbabwe and is 350 feet high. I tried to imagine what it must’ve been like for the British explorer David Livingstone to come across such a site—out of nowhere—having no idea what to expect. I’d seen pictures, anticipated the Falls for weeks, and still it was a wonder—like Rivendell or some other magnificently imagined world. Can’t wait to send you pictures.

As we sat watching the Falls from across the gorge we noticed a group of people making their way across the river and over the rocks on the edge of the drop. Below them was a pool of water, encircled by stones, that sat nestled in a nook at the top of the Falls. Beyond the pool was the 300-foot drop off. Our mouths plummeted as we watched a man launch himself off the top rocks into the pool. When he did not tumble to his death, we watched someone else jump and then another, and slowly horror changed to curiosity. Abby grinned, “Let’s go up there and then see if we have the guts to jump.”

A local Zambian helped the three of us to cross the river safely. I was not planning on jumping, given my fear of heights, but when we got the point we had watched from the other side, we saw that up close the jump wasn’t nearly as death-defying as it seemed. The rocks encircling the pool were like a cocoon making it virtually impossible to be swept over the side. The pool was also much larger than it had appeared. Still, the leap was high. So I watched and took pictures as the guide, Ken and Abby jumped. And then, I decided I would go too. I jumped off Victoria Falls (and there’s a photo to prove it).

The days spent in Livingstone were great. We went to the Zimbabwe side, which proved even more spectacular, though utterly deserted given the state of the economy (highest inflation rate in the world and growing…). We hung out with the other volunteers and bought ice cream cones every evening. Sometimes Jennica and I even had two.

Then we all went our separate ways. Ken and I headed down to Botswana to visit Chobe National Park and the Okavango Delta. The Okavango Delta is a vast area of wetlands—the closest thing I can compare it to is the Okefenokee Swamp in southern Georgia. In the Delta, we did a three-day camping/ canoe trip, which was unforgettable. We were taken on a three-hour motorboat ride (you can only go by boat or plane at this time of year) straight into the Delta and arrived on the outskirts of a miniscule village of about 300 (and I thought Omatjete was isolated). There we camped on the bank of the swamp for the weekend. During the day we were taken in mokoro canoes through the swamp by a man from the village who knew a lot but spoke very little English.

(houses in the Okavango village made of aluminum cans)

These rides were peaceful and beautiful, but I was also somewhat terrified much of our time here. The village was close, but there were still so many animals around. One night an elephant crunched right through our campsite, snapping a nearby tree in two. Another night we heard a lion roaring (though our guide, Dox, said it was several islands away) and hippos grunting. Baboons barked in the trees, warthogs waded around in the swamp. Our guide never seemed worried, but I couldn’t shake my big-city nerves.

One afternoon as Ken, Dox, and I ate our lunch an elephant from an island 100 yards away crossed the shallow water to our island, loped up on shore, circled behind the campsite trees and stared at us—about 15 feet away. I was picking out trees to scurry up, but Dox had his feet propped up grinning. The elephant watched for a few moments and then went on his way.

We rounded out the vacation back in Namibia. Ken, Erika, and I went up north—above Etosha (where over half of the Namibian population lives and where the majority of the volunteers are stationed) and stayed with Dan and Jennica for a few days, making it all the way out to Opuwo—a town who’s name literally means “That’s it.” Indeed, beyond the town there is nothing but wilderness all the way to the coast.

Now I am back in Omatjete—with water (!!!). Looks like the government diesel finally made it. Not particularly excited about third term, but trying to make the best of my last three months here. Tuesday was my 24^th birthday. There was no cake, but my grade six class did sing to me. And they have beautiful voices.