Coming from Cornwall there is an automatic attraction to water, albeit normally the salted type with big waves.
There is however a distinct lack of coastline in the two countries that I have chosen to make my new home. Funnily when applying for my work permit I had to include all certification to back up my application, I could not resist putting in my Offshore survival training certificate.
I reckon that clinched the granting of the permit myself.
Recently I was offered the opportunity to go down to a place on the Zimbabwean and Zambian border called Chirundu, for a week to look into a few issues that were arising down there. Of course for the chance of a challenge and a glimpse of the Great Zambezi again, I jumped at the opportunity.
After the issues I had last time I went away, with fuel, I decided to get well kitted up, so I went out and bought two new jerry cans and filled up the car tank and the two cans, just to make sure I had plenty. Its only one hundred and seventy five km to Chirundu but I would be staying well out of the town, and travel back and forth each day.
You may think that is a little odd if you have not been to Chirundu, but I have been through there on many occasions and it is a place to make you shudder, whist the setting itself is stunning. The town is clinging to the steep sides of the river then spills out over into the surrounding bush. Unfortunately it is not a town of substance, it has no shops just ramshackle stalls, it has no hub, it has no soul. (or so I thought) The only thing that breathes life into this town are the trucks that pass through it. Wheezing their black carcinogenic fumes into the town too.
A whole industry of freight forwarding and freight clearing has grown up all around, in offices that range from comfortable stone built ones to ones that are made of cardboard and that move closer to the river each time it rains. The biggest industry in Chirundu however is prostitution, with nearly 50% of the inhabitants being involved in this trade one way or another. The town is filthy, dirty with litter occupying every square foot of the place and the smells of burning refuse, dust and drying fish fill your nostrils for most of the day. (am I painting a bleak enough picture for you here?) On the other occasions I have come to Chirundu I have been passing between countries and have had to face the harrowing ordeal of the whole customs and immigration process, thus making the Chirundu experience many times worse. I’ve always just wanted to get through and out as quickly as possible.
So that is why I was not going to be staying in town.
The day I was planning to leave I happened to wake at 03:00 and could not get back to sleep so decided have a leisurely breakfast and make an early start. I searched the fridge to see what was there, that probably would not resemble food by the time I got back in a week’s time. The breakfast menu was suddenly looking like snails in a butter, sorrel, garlic and bacon sauce, with chicken gizzards liver and bacon, with fresh asparagus on the side. Before long I decided just to go for just the asparagus, and take my chances with the rest when I got back. The asparagus was fantastic with butter and a hint of garlic, swiftly followed by fresh orange juice and 2 mugs of espresso. I was on the road by 04:45 out of the bush and into the city. There is something magical about driving through a city in the early morning when it is just pulling itself, into life again. I have never passed through Lusaka so quickly and quietly before, it was a pleasure. Out of the city and into the outlying areas becoming more and more rural until at last I got to the foothills of the escarpment. The escarpment is a truly magical place with breathtaking scenery and hundred foot drops off the side of the road, the hills are steep and the roads and countryside are littered with the carcases of fallen lorries. As with the animals who die here, the trucks too are stripped to the bone of anything that may be of any use. Reminiscent of the olden day Cornish wreckers, hundreds of people live in these hills eking out a living from the unforgiving terrain, animals were hunted to extinction years ago so they have to survive on what they can grow or find. It is rumoured that if you break down in the hills, and unguarded, a truck and a forty foot container can be stripped to its bare chassis, container emptied in one night, There will not be a sign of any of it, by day break.
The morning I came through I saw many women walking, all in the same direction along the road, once I had travelled about fifteen Km I came across an upturned lorry, carrying what seemed to be seed maize. The hill tribes must have thought all their Christmas’s had come at once. At the scene of the crash there was a group of some three hundred people waiting to liberate the cargo while a single guard stood trying to keep them at bay.
I drove on by wondering how long he would be able to hold them back, noticed the hundreds of people coming along the road from the other direction. I realised then it would not be long. There were another six broken down trucks on the way through the hills, two side by side on the brow of a hill on a sharp bend, I just had to go by and pray as I did. If anything had been coming the other way I would not have stood a chance.
I arrived too early, as I had hoped. I decided to go and have a little explore. I took a dirt track off to the left and just kept driving deeper and deeper into the bush, the terrain changed as did the bush, lines of trouser ants crossed the path, these were big ones so I decided to stay in the car not stop to observe. A couple of km further in I found what I was looking for DUNG, yes dung, you cannot believe how excited I was when I saw it. (I never thought that a pile of pooh would ever have this affect on me.) As you have more than likely guessed it was elephant pooh, I stopped got out and studied it, One of my best friends used to be a big game hunter and taught me all about, and how to age pooh. A skill I have not had reason or desire to use in Camborne or in fact any part of Cornwall, and in fact it would be a completely different science as pooh in Africa tends to dry up and eventually blow away where in Cornwall it just gets wetter and wetter then dissolves and eventually flows into the sea. (Appologies for those who are eating, and Sara who hates even the mention of the “P” word.)
Anyway, after much prodding, poking, breaking, squeezing and sniffing, (you don’t have to sniff, that’s optional) I established that this elephant had been through the day before and not that morning. I drove on and on finding more evidence of elephants, but unfortunately not the actual fantastic creatures.
I arrived at a clearing and came upon one of the most spectacular sights in the world. The great Zambezi river stretched out in front of me, fast flowing hugely wide and incredibly powerful, how the elephants had managed to cross I don’t know but they had, and there was evidence of them travelling in both directions from the angles of their spoor, unless they were just messing me around by walking in backwards, But I don’t know if elephants have a sense of humour.
I sat on the banks of that river for about an hour in total seclusion, lost in the magic of the whole scene, the birds the animals the insects the fish and the river, all coming together to create an amazing haunting ambiance that will stay with me forever and always pull me back to this part of Africa.
I could have stayed all day, in fact all my life, but I had to pull myself away and carry on to Chirundu. A place I was not looking forward to visiting but discovered another type of magic which rather surprised me. I’ll tell you about that another time.
Denzil Bark.
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