Zimbabwe: Bulawayo, Matobo National Park & the Khami Ruins

 Time for another flashback to a trip I took to Zimbabwe back in December of 1989.  My visit, in the company of my friends and hosts, began in the country's second city, Bulawayo.  We had the great good fortune of being the guests of an older couple who were utter delights.  They had lived their entire lives in Zimbabwe 50 years of which when it was known as Southern Rhodesia.  While most of their family had emigrated away after independence and the birth of Zimbabwe in 1980, they had remained.  Settled in their ways and devoted to the land and people they knew. 

As to independence, it wasn't hard to get an opinion out of the gentleman. As he drove us south for a day of hiking and exploring in the Motobo Hills National Park.  The highlight of which were the ancient Khami Ruins, second only the Great Zimbabwe ruins several hundred miles to the east and not on our itinerary.  I lamented not get to see them and he quipped, "Great Zimbabwe ruins?!  Hah!  Just look around around you, mate--THIS IS the GREAT Zimbabwe ruins." 

We drove on the dust covered road past the carcass of a public bus that had been stripped of everything but the dust covered frame.  From time to time we passed locals walking along the side of the road, large bundles balanced on their heads.  There were few cars, and an occasional truck, often with riders piled into the open back.  Zimbabwe was one year shy of celebrating its tenth anniversary and the transition had yet to even come close to delivering the prosperity that it's leader, Robert Mugabe, had promised.  Bulawayo was like a forgotten city in the wild west of a nascent America.

Once we arrived at the park we passed through the gates and then on toward the Khami Ruins.  Along the way we saw many examples of the Kopje Rock formations (stacked boulders), some larger than automobiles arranged in random spots across the shrub and brush covered land.  Some were famous, like the "Horse Rider".   

At some point we pulled over and got out of the jeep.  From here on out we were in the hands of the older gentlemen.  Along a pathway where we encountered no other person, we made out way through the dry scrub bushes.  Then suddenly, he stopped us.  Without speaking, he directed our gaze through the vegetation.  There she was, a Southern White Rhinoceros gently grazing.  It wasn't long before we also saw her calf.  We weren't 50 yards away from them.  As we whispered back and forth, she rotated her ears like radar discs to point them in our direction.  After a moment she determined we were not a threat.  It was obviously a moment that I have never forgotten.  

Further down this trail and we were at the Khami Ruins.  Again, nobody else in sight.  As we explored the remains of this 15th century city now long abandoned we realized that we weren't actually alone.  Our presence had summoned up the curiosity of a group of Chacma Baboons.  They started popping up on the tops of distant walls.  Our guide was well aware of the mischief and danger wild Baboons can inflicts and so he called our visit off and calmly we returned to the jeep.

From here he drove us to a separate area of the park (which is huge: 1,200 sq. miles).  He parked us again at the start of a trail and off we went on another hike.  This one was more vertical, but not strenuous and before long we were reaching the crest of large mound that was by and large one massive granite boulder--though "boulder" does it no justice.  The views were spectacular and in the distance across this rock surface we could see a squat tower-like structure.  As we approached it, we also discovered a large marker ensconced to the surface of the rock formation.  It was the grave of Cecil Rhodes!  The monument is an additional commemoration for the man.  

You can imagine just how controversial this site is given Rhodes role in the conquest and exploitation of native peoples in order to establish the colonies of Northern (Zambia) and Southern (Zimbabwe) Rhodesia.  Then it was just a completely unexpected surprise and a chance to have some semblance of connection to one of the most consequential European colonizers in the history of Africa.  And I get the negative implications.  But the man's dead.  He can evolve.  Only we have that privilege.

Finally, we returned to Bulawayo, had a modest meal with our hosts and slept soundly.

The Matobo Hills National Park, Zimbabwe

"Man on a Horse" Kopje

Southern White Rhinoceros

The Khami Ruins (Active c. 1450 - c. 1650)

And the Baboons began to arrive...

Approaching the crest of Malindidzimu hill.

Malindidzimu Hill is also known as the "View of the World" hill.  It's easy to see why!

Cecil John Rhodes

05 JUL 1853 - 28 MAR 1902

Another visit to the Past: Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

 Having the ability to scan old negatives and slides has proven to be a wonderful way to while away an hour or two of an evening.  I am so grateful for the life I have made for myself, and these images honestly also inspire me to dream of future adventures, too.

This is from my visit to Victoria Falls.  My traveling companions and I arrived in the evening, spent the next day there exploring the trails along the Zimbabwe side and taking in the sights and performances in the living cultural museum located in the little community where our lodging was also located on the rim of the canyon where the water from upper Zambezi River plummeted over the falls to form the lower Zambezi River.  

This was the third stop on our itinerary after spending 3 days on mini safari's at Zimbabwe's largest National Park and Game Reserve: Hwanke.  As I had discovered, by coming to Southern Africa in late December, we were visiting sights at the end of Spring.  This meant lots of newborns at Hwanke.  Spring comes after Winters' rainy season, as well.  By the end of Spring that water flow on the Zambezi has reduced dramatically, but oddly enough that makes it the best time to see the falls!  During the rainy season the amount of water sends up so much mist that falls are erased by its cloud-like mist, and the entire trail is under a constant drizzle, thus making it slippery and more dangerous.  We were told that if we came back in the rainy season the only way to see the falls is to hire a helicopter and see it from above.

I was all of 27 years old!

The hiking trail skirts the southern palisades for well over a mile and the further you get away from the central bed of the Zambezi, the less water is flowing over the edge on the opposite side, until finally all you have to look at is a rock wall made up of an ancient granite.  

The views were simply spectacular all along the trail.  That was 40 years ago, and like so many places that our now global tourist hot spots, I shudder to think what it must look like now.  The area around the falls was pretty simple.  There were a couple of motel like establishments for overnight guests, a mock African Village with artisans demonstrating traditional crafts and performing at set times, and a restaurant where you could take an evening meal.  I'm thinking there were also souvenir shops and other places to grab a bite.  

A statue of the great European Explorer Sir. David Livingston presided over the entrance.  Guests were a mix of White and Black Africans with some Europeans.  I met one other American family.  A Black man with his wife and two children.  They were from Brooklyn, NYC.  His parents were from Zimbabwe and he wanted his children to see the country of their ancestors.  in 1988, it was just 8 years into independence and despotism of its president Robert Mugabe was just beginning to become apparent.  The economy was on the skids, and the whole land reform movement was like the mythical "Pull You Push Me" two headed llama from "Dr. Doolittle"--as tug of war bound to tear things apart.  A nation that had been the agricultural bread basket of sub-Sarahan African was experiencing food shortages and run away inflation.  None of which was overtly present for tourists from far away with Dollars and Rands to spend.

The very first time in my life that I ever flew on a plane so new that it fucking smelled like a new car! was in Zimbabwe.  It was also the only time I have been a passenger on a commercial flight that was piloted by a woman.  As people were losing their ability to feed their families and the public transportation system--particularly in rural areas and cities outside of the capital, Harare, were breaking down for lack of funding, in ability to pay drivers and mechanics, or even but replacement parts, Mugabe's administration bought two brand new airplanes.

The "motel" we stayed in was a basic design.  A series of attached bedrooms with a private toilet, sink and shower, all opening on the same side to a paved walkway with room numbers affixed to the exterior walls next to the doors.  Everything about them was basic.  The most useful amenity was a ceiling fan over the door; although it wasn't oppressively hot or humid.  

In the second morning as I prepared to gather my belongings a sort of passing of the guard occurred in my room.  The white tennis shoes that I'd brought with me that I'd owned for a while finally wore a hole in the bottom of one.  I anticipated this before departing and so bought a new pair that I also brought with me.  (I know, certifiably weird am I?!)  At any rate, I noticed a trash can at the end of the row of rooms.  The air was crisp when I left my room with the old worn out shoes in my hand.  Looking around it seemed like all the tourists were still asleep, but in the blue-hued light of dawn and trio of Black grounds keepers was already tidying things with rakes and clippers.  They all wore Forest green jump suits and floppy hats.  None were particularly close to the motel, and I didn't even think they noticed me.

Back in the room I finished packing and waited for my friends to knock on my door signalling it was time to head off to our next adventure.  I had gathered another little bag of trash and as we left I went over and dropped it in the trash can.  I expected to see the shoes I'd just tossed out.  But they weren't there.  Someone had taken them.

When first approaching the falls.  You can see the line of tourists on the pathway in front of us (upper right)

Continuing to hike the path past where the water is still flowing over the precipice.  In the rainy season, there is basically no visible rock, it's all just massive amounts of water.

Then looking back to where the water is still flowing and down to the "lower" Zambezi River below.

Examples of Traditional homes.  The stilts provide protection from nocturnal predators.  

A Park Employee shares cultural traditions of the Shona and Ndebele peoples 

As the crowd of visitors grow, he is happy to answer questions, too.

A musical performance.