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.