Livingstone, Zambia

RANEE'S SOUTH AFRICA DIARIES: JOURNAL 4
May 21:

To Livingstone airport, then—small, one-hall-ed, under-secure, slow because of one tiny carousel serving 3 flights in quick succession—we got in line for immigration, passed the kiosk in no time and out we came into the other side of the same, open hall.

On this side, the miniature carousel was still struggling with the luggage from the British Airways flight that had landed before us. Here there were 2 lines of Japanese tourists with neon-belted suitcases; little groups of western tourists in twos and threes; an Indian-Gujarati family group from Calcutta –including a lady who proclaimed to the many boisterous and ill-behaved children in her group that Iberia was a “place in Africa”-- much to Rubik’s amazement and amusement—and the four of us.

On the flight to Livingstone, the air-crew had a hard time getting these abovementioned brats to stay in their seats at take-off, meal service as well as touch down. When we were leaving the aircraft, one of them looked at our two and remarked to the other, “Now those were the only two children on board who were really well-behaved.” The she looked at me and said,”You have such well-mannered children. You must be very proud of them.” “Thank you,” I said. “I am.” And the Indian mother in me glowed tickled-pink!

Zambia was full of beautiful glowing-black faces with high cheekbones, thin lips and doll-like upturned noses; stunning smiles that were genuine and infectious; innocence and simplicity and names like “Precious” and “Happiness.”

Yet we were constantly warned against walking anywhere, even in broad daylight. As we drove into town with our escort, Paul, from Safari Par Excellence—a pleasant, round-faced, sweet-smiling hulk of a man—we see ample signs of extreme poverty battling with the tourist-dollar-boosted town full of modern malls and beautifully restored old buildings.

In 10 minutes, we were at the Zambezi Waterfront hotel right on the mighty Zambezi. The hotel was clean but basic, with individual chalets strewn around a swampy, open area.

Our all-wood family chalet was No.7, on the first floor of a house on stilts. It was basically a large, sharply A-framed African thatched-roofed room with 4 single cots, each with its own ringed-mosquito-net. Out of the room had been carved a spacious en-suite bathroom with a half-wall that didn't reach anywhere near the ceiling.

The entire back of the chalet opened to a very roomy wooden deck with low and deep hardwood slatted chairs that were quite comfortable once you sank into them. The deck overlooked a swamp with a couple of dead trees right in the middle. The swamp was ringed with a lot of lush greenery including palms and ferns and was vibrantly alive with multi-hued insects and birds.

We left our luggage in the chalet and went out to explore. We found a little jetty next to the bar/dinner deck that jutted out into the Zambezi. We discovered that we coulod see the spray of the Victoria Falls from the jetty. The spray was in 3 spurts as far as we could see, with the middle one going up furthest.

It didn't look like water at all, but like white smoke, quite still, with bits of it breaking off from the main column on the top and rising up like a cloud in various sizes and shapes and finally vaporizing into the clear blue sky.

By the time we'd finished exploring the resort complex and been to the Activity Centre to check our vouchers, we had figured out the value of the Zambian Kwacha and thus, we opened our account with a couple of Mosi beers at 6500 Kwacha each.

Before we finished our Mosi, it was time to go for the Wild Horizons Sunset Cruise on the Zambezi.