Big Sky Country

After three days of rain, the sun came out, and we drove into Etosha National Park. We found out that our destination camp – Halali – was closed because of flooding and no clean water (an inherent contradiction and also a real problem here in the north, to have so much rain but not have water to drink or flush away sewage). So we spent the morning driving from the eastern gate all the way to the southernmost camp – Okakuejo, an Oshiwambo word meaning “a prolific woman” or “a woman who has one baby after another”. Many of the campsites were washed out here too, and with ominous clouds on the horizon, we decided to splurge on a room. The National Park system has gone through a complete upgrade since we were last here in 2003; our simple room had an “Out of Africa” charm to it, as well as the best shower we’ve had in a long time.

Zebras, springbok, impala, wildebeest, and oryx all got second looks as they were the only players on the field. Gone were the elephants and other large game which we never failed to see here in the past; there was so much water they did not need to travel far to drink. In fact, we had never seen this amount of water in the pans or the park so green. That in itself was amazing to see. I also found myself gazing off into the big puffy clouds as the sky seemed to go on forever.

Three things more than made up for the scarcity of animals. First, the sunset and the backlight at dusk showed a spectacular spectrum of oranges, reds, violets, and blue shades. It was a magical forty minute sky show that took our breath away. Second, we heard traditional singing and drumming from our room after dinner. We went down to the restaurant to find a choir of school kids from the local village (which is inside the park, just outside the camp) to see what was going on. It has been one of our enduring memories of Namibia – the harmony, rhythm and clarity of the voices we have heard so many times over the years. It seems to be an inherent trait – people can sing quite well here. One dance I enjoyed in particular was the memorizing traditional Ovambo stomp dance, which while quite provocative, is only performed by pre-pubescent girls to rapid drumming. Once they mature, they are not allowed to do it anymore. Third, the breakfast this morning was the standard Namibian fare which we have waited so long to have again – fried eggs with boerewors, sliced tomatoes, cheese, toast, fruit and yogurt. The long thin sausage with the coriander and cinnamon seasoning here is unique to Namibia; we have not been able to find it elsewhere in Africa. We indulged and did not have to eat again until dinner.

After two long days in driving in Namibia (Kasane to Divundu and Divundu to Tsumeb), the next few weeks will have much shorter distances (nothing more than two hours a day) traveling to places such as Otjiwarongo, Hochveld, Okahandja, Windhoek, and Mariental. Let’s face it – Namibia is one huge country, about the size of Texas. The roads are fantastic though and the driving is easy, which is a good thing because I am still doing most of the driving. One fun thing to do while on the road is to tune into National Radio which is heard all over the country. This is a far cry from NPR. People will post ads, say “I am looking for a ride to Ondangwa this weekend” and then other people will respond to that. At times, several different languages can be spoken, but it’s mostly in English. They play cheesy music and read the horoscopes. We have listed to a whole hour on farming advice and another on cricket rules. It’s an absolute riot to listen to.

Doing time in Tsumeb

We’ve been lollygagging for a couple of days in Tsumeb, historically a German copper mining town, before entering through the northern gate of Etosha. Settling back into life in Namibia has been easy as we have been staying in a comfortable room with goose down duvets and pillows, catching up on sleep, and enjoying cooking in a real kitchen. On a recent visit to the Spar market, one thing we noticed right away was the high prices of everyday items, much more expensive than when we were last here. Oh, but the dairy, deli, and meat items are so much fresher and better than anywhere else!

Reading The Namibian revealed that the country’s unemployment rate recently peaked at fifty-one percent. The gap between rich and poor seems to be widening, so then it’s no surprise that we also read that the crime rate has been steadily rising too. Catching up on the country’s news for the past three days, we’ve learned all sorts of things. Like how there is an anti-Chinese sentiment among the general population right now because they don’t treat Namibian workers well, evade taxes, sell sub-standard goods, and do not invest in the country. The latest controversy is how the President angrily defended the Chinese businesses saying that Namibians owed them for China’s support of SWAPO during the struggle. (Wonder what kickbacks he is getting). Other news included pressure to stop the seal culling (which they are not keen to do) and the President’s support of Gaddafi. It’s easy to be critical of the government here, but freedom of speech is highly valued, something neighboring Zimbabwe sorely misses.

It has been raining almost constantly for the past forty-eight hours; it’s neither a gentle drizzle nor the fierce, brief summer storm that I used to expect in Mariental. This has been a heavy thunderclad pounding. And like the rain elsewhere in southern Africa this season, it is completely unexpected and unnatural. So in our room with the comfy featherbed, drinking tea and warming up prepared German comfort food like schnitzel and spaezle feels especially good right now. We had thought to camp tomorrow in Etosha, but that is really difficult to think about right now.

In the forty-five minutes it stopped raining yesterday, we walked around the town which was dead quiet. Russ reminded me that when we were volunteers on the weekends, there wasn’t much to do. Stores still close at 1:00 on Saturdays and Sundays (if open at all). There is a fine simplicity in that, and we find that we have plenty to do without doing anything. Today in the rain, we walked around to get some errands done and it felt even more like we were volunteers, as generally white people don’t walk around town. We have been excitedly talking about getting back to our hometowns in the south, but we will take our time, of which we have plenty. Geniet die dag (enjoy each day as it comes).

Starting with the thumb

If you bend your wrist downwards so your palm is turned towards you and the thumb extends to a 90 degree angle, you have the shape of Namibia. We started out our Namibian journey by entering at the tip of the thumb at Katima Mulilo on Thursday? (I am having trouble keeping track of days), and will eventually make it all the way to the wee end of the pinkie which is Luderitz. So far, we haven’t made it much past the thumb; although we plan on driving more than 3000 kilometres over the next six weeks, we are still unsure where we will go.

We spent the last few days on the Okavango River in Divundu in the western end of the Caprivi Strip. Once again we found a small luxury lodge that also offers what I consider luxury camping, so it’s a great way to go. Beautiful pool and garden, grassy campsite, wonderful bathroom facilities. It is one of a few places still open in the area due to the high floodwaters. In fact, four of their campsites, the bar area and wine cellar are under water. Come to find out, most of northern Namibia is under water, and then it rained some more all of yesterday and the night before. But it is also wonderfully green and lush, not something often seen here.

There are a few things we are quick to notice now that we are back in Namibia. One is that the tourism industry has boomed extraordinarily. Obviously Namibia is no longer the hidden treasure we left, but we wonder if this growth will be sustainable. Another thing (as we looked through the tourism brochures) is that most accommodation has moved to the high end; fortunately these same places offer camping which is what I think we will be doing for most of our time when not staying with friends. We have gotten pretty efficient at setting up camp. Getting out of the tent in the morning is the hard part as our bodies remind us that it was fifteen years ago since we last camped on the ground like this. We gave up our air mattress to save space since we were not planning on doing too much camping. In fact, we went sixty-one days before christening the tent on this trip. Now we are wondering where we can get a sleeping pad.

Russ came down with a slight cold as we left Kasane, so we decided to take it easy for a few days. No early morning game drives. No planned activities. We napped, braai’ed, sat in the pool, read and studied maps. Not that we were on a hectic pace to begin, and with rest he felt better, so we moved south. We had hoped to visit a friend of Russ’ in Rundu – Patrick Ferrell – but he was on a visit in the US.

Northern Namibia’s rural life is much like we have seen in other parts of Africa – cattle, goats and people freely roam about the interspersed homesteads. There are colorfully named cuca (homebrew) shops such as Peace Garden, Nightrider, and The Love Stop. This all ended when we crossed The Red Line, the agricultural checkpoint separating communal from commercial farms, 130 kilometers south of the Okavango River and Angolan border.

We are glad to be back in Namibia! Much is familiar and we feel very much at home.

Call of the Wild

I wasn't going to blog anymore from Chobe, but it's really been an amazing experience (and we are also somehow getting free internet). Turns out our new campsite is about fifty feet from a pod of hippos, which sufficiently freaked me out, but in a good way, like yeah, this is Africa. We've been told that they never get out of the water, but their loud grunts during the night are keeping our imaginations going. Similarly, on two different game drives, we were surrounded by dozens of elephants, which is truly awesome but also a little scary. Russ did a good job of keeping a respectful distance but it really would not have taken much for them to show us whose turf this was. This was after hearing a report of a guide being killed by an elephant two days ago and another story of small car that got too close to a bull who then overturned it.

These are not the jumbo tuskers we've seen in Etosha and Kruger. But big is big. We have seen more babies and youngsters than ever before. I am so utterly intrigued with elephant group behavior, and the little ones are quite entertaining. The elephant population is so large in this area; not only are they in national park but they often come into town (hard to miss all the dung). It does not seem to be a problem though.

We also saw a pack of wild dogs this morning! The first time ever was six weeks ago in South Africa. To see them twice in a lifetime is something, not to mention in one trip! They were much bigger than the ones we saw in Kruger. We also saw a herd of over one hundred buffalo, which was a spectacular scene. We must have over a hundred photos from today but cannot download them because we lost our camera cable. I am hoping to find someone who can loan us one.

It is good to be back in Botswana, speaking Setswana, and shopping with familiar brands in the supermarket with pula prices. Buying petrol has been a real pleasure as it is about half the price as anywhere else on this trip. We are looking forward to heading into Namibia soon though.

A bump in the road, then smoothed over

We left Victoria Falls yesterday morning and crossed over to Kasane, but not without some dramatic moments. When we reached the Botswana border, we were told that we could not enter the country on a 90-day tourist visa because we had already used our days in 2010. This was different than what we had been told previously and we plunged back into an Immigration deja vu nightmare. We finally produced our expired residency permits and other assorted papers, then explaining that we needed time to sort it all out. She gave us ten days, which was not nearly long enough to do what we wanted to now in Chobe and later in Maun, and especially not when we need to tie up loose ends before leave the country in May.

A little shaken up, we decided to camp one night on the Chobe River and then leave in the morning, which would still give us eight days on the visa. It was a good decision. The campsite was one of the best we have ever been to; it’s attached to the schmancy Chobe Safari Lodge with full use of the facilities (pool, restaurant, bar, internet, lounge). We booked passage on the afternoon river cruise and it was an amazing spectacle of animal sightings so different from other safaris we’ve been on. We watched numerous elephants and hippos play in and out of the water along the lovely riverfront, and then watched the sun set. When we got back, we ordered burgers and chips from the restaurant, and it was the tastiest (if not priciest) hamburger since leaving the US.

We slept relatively well last night despite roaring lions, trumpeting elephants, grunting hippos, and sounds we could not make out surrounding the campsite. After packing up in the morning, we stopped off at the local Immigration office to see if they could extend our days (they couldn’t, but were incredibly friendly and helpful). Resigned to the fact that we had to leave, we filled up the petrol tank (back to cheap gas thanks to Botswana’s subsidy) and stocked up on groceries to head into the Caprivi Strip.

When we reached the Ngoma border post, the officer stamped our passports, and I threw out the question of extending our days. She said she couldn’t because we were leaving, but if we were to return, then she would give us the 90 day tourist visa. Ok! So we promptly crossed into Namibia, and then did a u-turn in order to return to Botswana later this morning. Thankfully, this is a four-corners of sorts where Zim, Zambia, Namibia, and Botswana come together. Four hours and 130 kilometers later, we went back to the Safari Lodge and found an even better campsite. Then we crashed at the pool. We will be here for a few days. Chobe reportedly has the highest concentration of elephants anywhere in Africa and we are keen to see them. But the pool, river sunsets, and burgers are attractive reasons as well.

Bungee jumping*

The town of Victoria Falls is a sleeping shadow of its former days of glory. Gone are the money changers and the hordes of craftsmen hawking their wares. The upmarket hotels are still here, and thankfully still a few backpackers’ places. There are still plenty of ways to spend money through a variety of adventure activities however – abseiling, ziplining, rafting, bungee jumping, helicopter rides, microlight, elephant safari, Zambezi river cruises, the gorge swing – to name a few. We thought about doing one of them, but which one to choose?

First however, we needed to see the Mosi oa Tunya, “the smoke that thunders”. We were a little concerned that the visibility would not be good because of the flooding further up on the Zambezi River. While there were still a few viewpoints obstructed by extremely heavy mist and downright torrential spray, we saw more than we expected as it was a sunny (and quite hot) day. The volume was higher than it has been a long time, certainly much more than we’ve seen before at this time of year. It was absolutely spectacular; words cannot describe the immensity or sheer beauty of this natural wonder.

We watched a couple of people bungee jumping from the bridge, their torsos plunging in a straight line until the dramatic bounce at the end, their bodies snapping in different directions. My one thought was I bet they need some chiropractic work after that.

Our first choice of activity was a microlight flight, but it was only offered on the Zambian side, which because of our single-entry Zim visa and the cost and process of getting a Zambian one made it more than we wanted to deal with for fifteen minutes in the air. But that would have been fun. The water was much too high for rafting (and will be for a few more months), but that was one of the best values for money on the adventure menu. Sadly, the steam train does not run anymore, but we did get a tour of the 1900’s dining cars, and Russ checked out the coal-burning engine.

In the end, we instead went for (low-risk) high tea at the grand colonial-era Victoria Falls Hotel, which oozed old world opulence with white glove table service, mounted African game trophies, and converted old boy smoking rooms. While Russ would disagree (mostly because he does not drink tea), I think there is nothing more delightful than a proper high tea in the late afternoon. It was his first experience, and I think he enjoyed the delicate finger sandwiches, flaky scones, and small cakes while watching, from the Hotel’s veranda, the mist pounding from the Falls. This hotel had the best view outside the national park and a great way to end the day.

*It was never a serious consideration, but I figured it would catch people’s attention.

From the highlands to the lowveld

As hard as it was to leave the comfort of the duToit home in Harare, it was definitely time to move on. On Monday we left the highlands to drive south through Mashonaland to the Mukiriwe Dam. We found a quiet self-catering apartment on a lovely property down the road from Great Zimbabwe and crashed soon after dinner.

Although we did not sleep particularly well (warmer than usual, lumpy pillows and beds, and mefloquine dreams), we rose early to explore the amazing ruins down the road that gave this country its’ name. I had been to Great Zimbabwe once before, but my memories from twelve years ago were cloudy. It was refreshing to revisit this special site in Southern Africa and to bring everything back in focus. It was also good that we started so early; by 8:00 the heat started to remind us of Botswana.

The civilization known as the Great Zimbabwe started in the eleventh century and lasted until the fifteenth century, when like other people groups in the Americas, they overused the land and its resources and had to abandon the area. The ruins are in incredible condition and consist of two parts: the Hill Complex built high on a mountain and the Great Enclosure below which shows advanced craftsmanship in construction of their walls.

We spent a couple of hours walking around on our own before getting back in the car to drive west to the Matopos in southwest Zimbabwe where we spent Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning. While Great Zim is a foundation in the Shona history and tradition, the Matopos are a sort of the spiritual home to the Ndebele. It is easy to see why. This valley in the center of Matebeleland is surrounded by huge boulders, often one or two balancing on top of each other. It is magnificently awesome and deafeningly silent – the sort of place one can be still for a very long time, to think or just to be. Cecil Rhodes’ “World’s View” became a World Heritage Site which means they can charge extra money to see it. Being the frugal travelers we are, we found a boulder down the road, climbed up that, and had our own world view for free.

Thirty-five kilometers north is the city of Bulawayo, which we instantly liked for its wide streets, late 1800’s architecture, and tree-lined avenues. We liked it much more than Harare, but then again we really only stayed in the suburbs. It has a vibrant artistic community; the international book fair is held here each year. We also went to the Railway Museum; Bulawayo was a central piece to Rhodes’ Cape to Cairo dream. But the highlight was the National Art Gallery showcasing the best of Zimbabwean art, which is some of the most talented in Africa. There was also a graphic exhibit that was off-limits but we sneaked a peak; it is highly critical of Mugabe and reminiscient of his 1983 Matebeleland massacre. It had to stay in the museum until the case went to trial, but the museum did not make it difficult to see the controversial graffiti art. We bought music cds on the recommendation of a friend back in the States; by several accounts also some of the best in Southern Africa, and had lunch in a garden cafe. A most enjoyable day.

We stayed with friends of friends of Jane and Andrew, a young couple from the US who came to Bulawayo four years ago, in the “tough times”, the “Zim dollar days”. Like the duToits, they would frequently go to South Africa for shopping, bringing back carloads of staple goods. They were once tied up and robbed in their home; the thieves apologized for stealing but explained they were desperate. Kayle and Matt went to college in the Boston area; he is from Maine and she is from Indiana, so we made connections. Their two kids are African babies, and the plan is that they will grow up here. I must admit that I envied their ex-pat lifestyle, difficult as it has been, because there still seems to be a higher quality of life that I hoped we would have. They were quite gracious and we stayed with them for two nights.

We’ve just arrived in Victoria Falls, where our story as a couple had its beginning back in 1999. We had met three weeks before in Mariental; then my friend Amy and I left for a road trip through Zimbabwe and Russ embarked on his infamous journey with the Luderitz students. Without knowing each other plans, we ended up at the Falls at the same time and knew it was not a coincidence.

More on our current time at the Falls in a minute...

Family time

We have enjoyed our stay with Andrew and Jane duToit in Harare all week, good friends of Liz and Fred’s with whom we are also quickly becoming friends. We met them last August when they visited Dalton with their four kids – Luke-17, Matthew-15, Christopher-12, and Suzanna-6. (There are also two dogs, one puppy, three cats, a flock of chickens, two chameleons and a snake.) As with any family this size, there is quite a bit of activity going on with school, extra-curricular activities, raucous laughter and lively conversations. I can't keep track of the practices, friends, and comings and goings. I know that tonight, Matthew has a prom to attend, Christopher has a sleepover, and Susie just returned from a birthday party. Tomorrow there is church, a braai, a hike, Luke's driving lesson, and who knows what else.

On Shrove Tuesday, we made over sixty pancakes, except these pancakes were not of the breakfast variety smothered in maple syrup and butter. Pancakes in southern Africa are crepes, which for this occasion were served with the following fillings – mince (ground beef) with tomatoes, mushrooms and cheese, vegetable curry, and spicy mince. For pudding (dessert), there was chocolate sauce (made with baking chocolate and condensed milk which I can highly recommend), cinnamon sugar with a squeeze of lemon, mango and pineapple, and vanilla ice cream. In return this morning, we made American pancakes with Dalton syrup that they had brought back with them. Needless to say, we are being well-fed, but balancing that with walks up and down their hilly neighborhood.

Jane has been wonderful is showing us around. Harare is a sprawling city and still quite English with corner pubs, street names like Yorkshire, Salisbury, Coronation and Devonshire, and countless tea rooms. It's more English than any other former colony we have been to.

On Thursday, we walked around a sculpture garden, watching artists carve small and sometimes enormous pieces of rock into intricate statues. While running errands of her own, she took us to an Indian fabric shop with amazing ribbons and cloths. One day, I want a sari. Later we went to a local craft market which showcased a diversity of handmade items. After driving so much, it is nice to be driven around a city and we have certainly seen more than we would on our own.

Harare is at a higher elevation and the temperature is quite pleasant, almost downright chilly in the evening and early morning. Another cyclone hit Mozambique, so it's been drizzling and raining for the past few days. Which is nice, but makes it hard for laundry. It reminds both of us very much of the Santa Barbara area in terms of temperature and hilly scrub brush landscape (although infinitely more green here). Their house is in the outskirts of the city, actually quite close to Robert Mugabe's house which of course must be gigantic but no one can see it beyond the compound wall and police barricade. It is also the same area that Peter Godwin wrote about in the book I just finished; Jane gave me another of his to read - Mukiwa - which shares more stories about Peter's growing up in what was Rhodesia. This second book is a much easier read than When a Crocodile eats the sun, fascinating nonetheless.

Power outages are common here, lasting anywhere from a couple of hours to a few weeks. The longest one we have experienced is eighteen hours. They have a generator, but it's a hard way to live when it happens often.


We feel very much at home here and will stay through the weekend with them before zig-zagging across Zimbabwe over the next two weeks. Then it’s on to Namibia and back through Botswana.

Health, wealth, and wheels

Here we are in Harare, halfway through our journey both in time and mileage – 49 days and 5000 miles (that’s right, MILES not kilometers). We have been in five countries, with only two to go (we only just entered Zimbabwe, so it’s more like three to go).

Healthwise, we are doing pretty well. There have been a few minor bouts of runny tummy which seemed to subside rather quickly. We’ve dipped into the first aid kit a couple of times for small ailments that come with age and kicking around. With the exception of my visit to the doctor six weeks ago in South Africa to get a topical ointment, we have steered clear of medical care.

Financially, we are also on a good track. With the exceptions of Mozambique and Zimbabwe, all the currencies have been tied to the South African rand, which is about equal to the Botswana pula making it extremely convenient as all of our money is in pula. Mozambique kept us on our toes constantly in figuring out the pula/metical exchange.

Now in Zimbabwe the currency is the US dollar, which although nice to see prices listed in our own currency, is a little unsettling because again we have to convert back to the pula. The other thing about the money situation here is that small bills are rare and coins are non-existent. So if our grocery bill ends up costing $12.60, they will round up to $13, but if we only have a $20 and they don’t have change, then our $12.60 bill puts us out $20 or we find other things to put in the basket or the cashier gives change in small candies. The dollar did stabilize things here tremendously, putting to rest the trillions of Zim dollars that brought the country to a standstill a few years ago. (Russ found a 10,000 million bill on the side of the road yesterday)

We have averaged about US $80 a day, with our biggest expense definitely being petrol at US $6+ a gallon. Lodging and food are fairly inexpensive, so what raises the daily average are expenses like visas, car services, and things we could not have possibly planned.

Speaking of fuel, there are only two choices here in Zimbabwe, petrol and diesel. Meaning, there is no unleaded fuel. I was shocked to learn that we could put leaded fuel in an unleaded car, but I guess the only thing it hurts is emissions (and ultimately then, the planet, right?!)

We love our Rav4. It has been on some rather challenging roads and handled them beautifully. Before we left Gaborone, it went in for a big job, and here in Harare the car got a major tune-up. We have had a couple of leaky tires along the way, but able to get them patched. The air-con is holding up and the engine seems to be running smoothly. We might even buy a Rav4 once we get back home, that’s how impressed we’ve been with this car.

The worst road by far has been from Ramabanta to Semonkong, Lesotho, but that was an off-road four wheel drive trek. It’s remarkable that we still have pads on our brakes (and that was spending the whole time in first gear). Granted, the view of the waterfall was worth it, but not something I would do again. Russ enjoyed the driving more than I did. Mozambique had its share of poor highways, although surprisingly also some of the best. I have been doing most of the driving, unless we calculate that the chances of Russ being stopped at a police roadblock are minimal. It has now a long-running joke that I can breeze right through roadblocks, but he gets stopped more often than not. Only once have we had to pay a “fine” though, and that was in Lesotho.

So, there it is! Moving right along and still enjoying being on the road. More later on our wonderful time in Harare.

Changes in latitude, changes in attitude

(with a nod to Jimmy Buffet, or How I went from a bikini to long sleeves in two days)
Our long drive from Vilanculos to Chimoio on Thursday was relatively uneventful, although through several severely pox-marked stretches of road, we literally came to a crawl. As we moved inland, the reed huts were slowly replaced with mud ones and the palm trees disappeared. Pineapples and bananas were still in abundance however. I should probably mention how impressed I am with women carrying everything from firewood to long reed mats to large water canisters carefully balanced on their heads. We have seen this throughout rural southern Africa, but I have noticed it more in Mozambique. Their stately gaits and perfect postures are compounded often by carrying a baby on their backs. It remains one of the most iconic and incredible things I have seen here.

For the first time in a long time, we were not wow’ed by our destination. Chimoio struck us as a hustling, run-down center where people stop over on their way to somewhere else. We had heard about good hiking in the mountainous area, but decided to keep moving instead of staying another day in a place we did not feel entirely safe. We used our remaining meticals on groceries and gas, spent the night in a noisy backpackers lodge, and crossed into Zimbabwe on Friday morning.

Except at the Komatipoort border as we entered the country, we did not pay any bribes in Mozambique. Given that absolutely everyone we had spoken to (locals and travelers) had been stopped numerous times to the tune of several hundred meticals, we felt more than just lucky. While we went through more than two dozen roadblocks, we were only stopped twice but without incident. God has an eye on us.

Crossing at Mutare could not have been simpler, albeit time-consuming. Russ was happy to be back in an English-speaking country and he struck up several conversations with the Zimbabwe officers as they laboriously entered our extremely detailed information into the computer. I did not think the Portuguese language was much of an issue back in Mozambique, but our interactions were certainly limited.

By the time we climbed into the Eastern Highlands known affectionately as the Bvumba, we realized we had entered a different season and climate zone from the sultry coast we left behind. It felt like fall, which technically will soon be here. We pulled out long pants and sweatshirts that we had been storing all along, expecting there might be a time such as this.

The Vumba Mountains are like nowhere else we’ve been in Africa. It is a lush wooded area, bordering on rain forest. Its’ hilltops encompass a 180-degree diorama, stretching as far as we can see. For the past three nights, we have lodged ourselves on top of one of the hills in a secluded cottage with a beautiful view of a lake. In the mornings, the fog settled in the valley below, giving the feeling that we were in the clouds. Watching the sun rise and set has quite literally taken my breath away. There was a caretaker who set the fireplace for us every evening, and this was the closest to home we have felt in a long time. There was even a flock of clucking chickens and we ate their eggs each day.

The elderly Zimbabwean woman who owns this land also has a small dairy herd, and delivered a liter of fresh cream to us upon arrival. What a treat that has been in our breakfast cereal and with tea. They also make clotted cream, butter, and ice cream for local distribution. Their coffee farm was seized in the land grab ten years ago, but she is remarkably non-plussed about that.

But what choice does she have? In Soviet-style paranoia, it is still a punishable crime to speak against the government, and we had been previously warned not to talk politics. Prior to coming, we met Zim ex-pats and travelers who were essentially boycotting the country until things change. Our feeling is that our tourism helps the local economy; staying away only further hurts them financially, but our absence will not be noticed by the government fat cats who have grossly profited from the country’s rich natural resources.

I am reading Peter Godwin’s When a Crocodile Eats the Sun. Being in the country in which his real-life narrative takes place sheds new light to what it was like to grow up here, flee, and then return to find the sad state of affairs which brought the country to the brink of disaster during the past decade. How it affected his family is gripping. It is an emotionally wrenching novel on many levels, but sheds light about this complicated place we now find ourselves.

What is amazing is the nature of the Zimbabwean people. They are some of the warmest and most welcoming people we have met; this despite facing unimaginable adversity and grievous sins against them (ironically, Mugabe’s madness sorely affected the average black Zimbabwean the most). They remind me of Cambodians we met ten years ago soon after their civil war, who were benign, forgiving, without malice, and presented a calm and peaceful demeanor. It is once again a lesson in faith for me, which I humbly accept. There, but for the grace of God, go I.

Africa has the time

Quite a few people in Mozambique have told us the axiom – "Europe has the clocks; Africa has the time." We know that to be true. Nothing ever happens quickly, especially in a beach community. I don’t have a sense of time since we left Maputo – the time of day and what day of the week has been lost on me. Time is simpler – we eat when we are hungry, nap when we are sleepy. Terreq, who runs Beach Village, was an IT professional in his former life doing some pretty amazing things in South Africa like helping to create a database and protocol for child abuse cases. He left that behind five years ago to help start this place, and loves it. While I know I could stay here for awhile, I am not sure if I could live here.

It’s tempting though. Our time in Mozambique keeps getting better as we travel up the coast. We thought the fish, fruit, and beaches in Tofo were amazing until we arrived in Vilanculos. We knew about the beaches here from our trip twelve years ago – Vilanculos was our Mozambique destination back then and holds a special place in our hearts. The soft white sand is of the confectioner’s sugar quality that I love to sink my toes into. The warm water is shallow and at low tide we can walk out for a couple of kilometers. While Tofo had a low key tourist scene, Vilanculos only boasts a local fishing industry. Not to say that there aren’t tourists here. Au contraire. With the Bazaruto Archipelago sitting out on the horizon, this is a high end destination. Twice a day we hear helicopters flying overhead bringing people from the airport out to the islands. But we have not seen anyone in town and the coastline is large enough that we can walk for quite a while, and never see another traveler. There are of course a few more affordable places like the one we are staying in, but because Vilanculos is not easily accessed with public transport, it’s off the beaten backpacker path. Sometimes having a car has been a burden on our journey, but we are glad to have it to come to places like this.

Nothing makes me feel more like a kid than skipping along the beach and collecting shells. When I washed and set down the shells from this morning, two of them walked away, which was a very funny sight.

The low and high tides are really something to see. At one point, it looks like there is a huge desert out about a kilometer and stretching to the horizon, and then in a matter of hours our entire beach is covered.

The fish has been amazing, and because we are the only ones staying at the Beach Village, the chef is happy to please us. We have been feasting on grilled kingfish, crab, prawns, oysters, and calamari, and each day around noon he walks down the beach to select the catch of the day. The fish market on the beach was something to see – about ten dhows come in to unload their catches. There are women with huge buckets on their heads who sort them out. Some of the fish is cleaned there, while some of it goes to the market in town. It was a beautiful bounty to behold.

We also had the traditional local dish – matapas – for lunch yesterday. The leaves of the cassava plant are cooked down with coconut milk and crushed peanuts and served over rice. It was kind of like a pesto in its richness, and was simply delicious.

Our host Terreq took us into town yesterday and we shopped for pao (bread), cashews, fruit, and local rum at the main Mercado. It was one of the best markets I have been to, with its intricate maze of stalls and alleys. Russ found another pair of shorts and I bought meters of fabric. We also tagged along on his errands and probably saw more of the town than we would normally on our own.

Everything here is made of local materials, which includes an unbelievable amount of mahogany. I have the same mixed feelings I did when I saw the teak forests in Thailand. This is not eco-friendly timber that is shipped all over the world at top prices, or is it ok to be used locally because they do not need to import it? Hmmm…

At the end of the day yesterday, we took a walk down the solitary Baobab Beach. All the fishermen had gone home and the beach was deserted. The sky was under lit an eerie yellow in the east and pinks, purples, and reds settled in the western sky. The sand was scattered with shells of all different shapes and sizes. It was magical.