University of Botswana (UB) Part 6

     Chobe National Park is a truly remarkable place that left a profound impression upon my mind's eye. Seriously, hippo imagery will forever be in my hippocampus :) Following our final night in Chobe, we traveled north to the Zambezi river's quadripoint separating Botswana, Namibia, Zimbabwe, and Zambia. We were going to Zambia to see one of the seven wonders of the world, Victoria Falls. Located between Zambia and Zimbabwe, Victoria Falls is not the tallest waterfall in the world, nor is it the widest, but by combining its extensive length and height, it is considered the largest in the world.
     Arriving at the Zambezi river, we witnessed numerous men in mokoros carrying an abundance of alcohol over the river and I am unsure if they were being legit about it. By foot, we boarded a ferry in which various goods were being transported including fruits, beer, and diapers. After the short ride across the Zambezi, we stepped foot into Zambia. We immediately hopped in a minibus and were asked to fork over our passports, inside of which, we needed to place $20 to pay for the one-day visa into Zambia. Fortune, the older safari guide, gathered all of our passports, went into the immigration office at the border, and came back within 10 minutes; all of our passports were stamped. I remember thinking, "Wait, what the hell!? We weren't required to sign any papers, nor did they look at us to ensure we were the people in our passport photos, I shouldn't have even paid the $20 and just kept my passport on me." This internal dialogue was drown out by the bustling onslaught of hawkers and beggars that enveloped our minibus.
   

Ferry Surrounded by Mokoros on the Zambezi

 "What you want!?", "We have nice African handmade craft!", "Please help us!", "Oh, you have nice shirt, you want trade?" were just a few of the pitches that these hawkers used. Others would attempt to detach your wallet from your heart by carrying their newborn babies, and inform you that they needed your money to feed their children. The crowd seemed endless, shameless, and ruthless. Obviously, I felt bad and in a way, I wanted to buy something and help the financially unfortunate mother. But in another way, it's a feeding frenzy, and if i were to give one hawker or beggar money, all of them would flock to me until my funds depleted.  All I could do was watch in pure awe, and reflect upon how lucky I was to have been born in a country with such a high standard of living and a relatively stable government.
     The sense of guilt was soon overwhelmed and eliminated by the anticipation I felt as we left immigration to go to Livingstone. Livingstone is Zambia's 7th most populated city and the conduit to Victoria Falls. When we arrived near the park, we spent about half an hour bartering with more hawkers under a long row of tents protecting these salesmen from the African sun. To me, these dudes were like African gypsies, accepting any form of currency, including the clothing you wore, and ran their businesses under tents illegitimately and at prices dependent on the pliability of the buyer. It was interesting as I seemed to accrue about twice as many useless, probably factory made in China, crafts as any other member of our crew for a fraction of the price.
     We moved away from the African gypsy camp towards the park entrance where at first glance, could be mistaken for a scene out of, "Planet of the Apes." Baboons run rampant in that area. And although I had become accustomed to the baboons near UB, I was aghast as the baboons seemed to outnumber the humans three to one. We had to eat our packed lunches in the minibus so that baboons wouldn't take the food. After finishing our highly-processed hotdog lunch, we disembarked the minibus to see a baboon sitting nearby playing with his unprocessed hotdog. What took our attention away from this was even nastier as we witnessed a male baboon mount an unsuspecting female on the walking path to the falls in an alarmingly humanized manner. Witnessing the monkeys fuck doggy-style reconfirmed my belief in the evolutionary process.
   

This is not Monkey Masturbation, it's Ape Asexualization

     After guiltily being infatuated with the sexual behavior of the baboons, we walked down the path leading to the falls. While walking, the baboons eagerly accompanied us in every direction. These creatures have definitely become acclimated to human presence, and rather than being afraid of their genetically close counterpart, they see humans as a source of nutritional sustenance. I won't lie, the big boss baboons kind of frightened me as they brushed past me walking on all fours foraging for food. Within minutes of walking down that path, a woman was bamboozled by a baby baboon and the big boss it signaled over. As the woman stood adoring the cute creature, it made a peculiar sound to get the big one's attention. Cued by the sound which i perceived as announcement of human vulnerability, the biggest baboon crept behind the woman distracted by the cuteness of the little one, stood up on its hind legs and snatched her purse with both hands. The little one, whose role in the heist was seemingly over, averted eye contact and joined the big baboon as they ran away. Luckily for the woman, a nearby guide heaved enough rocks at the dirty apes to incite them to leave their spoils behind. 

     Although amazed by the ingenuity of the baboons, i was far more astounded by the environment in which they inhabited. Victoria Falls was incredible. Rainbows formed in the mist created by the vehement flow of the water off of the gargantuan cliffs. Meandering across narrow bridges hundreds of feet above the water, being sprayed by the flow of the Zambezi river, and witnessing countless baboons blithely frolic upon the colossal cliffs was a truly enchanting experience. I couldn't imagine a more ideal location for bungee jumping. 

Victoria Falls, Zambia 2011

     Hearing countless accounts of other travelers doing so, i had made the decision to bungee jump at the falls prior to the safari. Considering the beauty of the surroundings, the height of the bridge (420 ft), and the fact that i would forever be able to say that i went bungee jumping in Zambia, it would have been irresponsible to not have embraced the opportunity. I, and four girls in our group, made our way to the Victoria Falls Bridge to sign waivers ensuring that if we broke our necks or died, it was on our own accord. Because I was the only male in our group of jumpers, i attempted to maximize my masculinity by volunteering to go first and mustered up a facade of nonchalance as the bungee jump facilitator wrapped my shins in a seemingly slapdash contraption attached to the bungee cord. Adamant about ensuring that the facilitator didn't shove me off the platform, i was determined to actually, "jump." I stood on the edge staring out at the sheer cliff in the distance as the man counted down from five. I was shaking with anticipation, but as soon as he got to one, i leapt off the platform and free fell towards the crocodile infested Zambezi River. Although frightening, i was exhilarated and honestly, the dopest part was not the initial free fall, the biggest rush was the elasticity of the cord launching me back up. I retreated back to the platform and relished listening to Amy, and the other three girls scream to express the irrepressible rush of adrenalin associated with jumping off of a 420 ft bridge for the first time. 

     We were pretty lucky as things went as smoothly as bungee jumping in Africa can go. None of us were hurt, and ostensibly, the organization coordinating the jumps seemed pretty reputable. One of the girls i went jumping with shared this link on Facebook showing a girl jump off the same bridge with the same organization less than a year later. Sketchy Shit Going Down on the Zambezi River! 

     Pumped with adrenalin, and boasting about the thrills of bungee jumping to the non-jumping members of the group, we took the minibus back to the border. After a short ferry ride, we were once again in Bots, where we were greeted by Extra and his open-sided safari truck. From the border, we drove to Kasane, where we expected to board an overnight bus back to Gabs. This plan went awry as one of the local UB students facilitating the trip rejected the idea of taking the bus we were scheduled to ride in because it was going to pick up other passengers along the way. He didn't consult any of us about making that decision and it may have been a ploy to make a bit of extra money at the very end of our journey. All of us would have been cool with picking up other passengers along the way because we were eager to get back to UB before classes started and to take a shower, which we hadn't done in over a week. We were forced to stay in Kasane that night and hopefully find a bus in the morning. 

     Prior to canceling our scheduled transportation, the two UB students claimed to not have any money to eat and asked the international students to share their beer. As a result of the bus cancelation, we were obligated to pay for our campsite which the UB students negotiated by speaking Setswana. They then informed us that each of us would have to pay about $10 a piece for the campsite; it seemed a bit expensive but fair. However, my suspicion of being ripped off arose as shortly after collecting the money for accommodation, the two UB students who were complaining about being broke and shamelessly mooching beers, went off to purchase bottles of alcohol and meals from a nearby restaurant. If my suspicions were correct, that wasn't the only time i'd be ripped off that night. 

     Although slightly pissed off about the bus situation, we concluded that it'd be best to enjoy our last night with the guides. In typical Bots fashion, we imbibed the putrid non-palatable alcoholic beverage referred to as, "Chibuku" or, "Shake Shake." Chibuku is a beverage brewed in Bots and other parts of Africa. Due to its tendency for the pulpy shit to settle, one has to shake it often to consume all of its goodness, hence the name, "Shake-Shake." Essentially, it's just fermented maize porridge sold in cardboard cartons at affordable costs. I didn't enjoy the drink but to exemplify my willingness to embrace the Setswana culture, I told the guides that it wasn't so bad. 

     With the help of the guides who seemed to actually enjoy the stuff, we inhaled two cartons of Chibuku and were eager to obtain more. Due to his extensive experience in Kasane and northern Bots, Fortune knew of a hangout nearby where Chibuku was sold. Fortune, two mono-linguistic safari cooks, the two UB students, Amy, and I hopped in the safari truck in search of fermented maize porridge. When we arrived, we were disappointed because the place seemed devoid of life. We rummaged through the area and found a man who seemed to be sneaking out of the building where the Chibuku was stored. Fortune, eager to get his hands on some shake-shake, approached the man and inquired about the beverage. The man assured us that he would be able to satisfy our Chibuku desires. Wanting to express my gratitude towards the guides for the splendid safari, I magnanimously let everybody know that $6 of Chibuku, more than enough to intoxicate an elephant, was on me. I handed the man the money who at first walked, then slithered away with my 40 Pula! Our entire group chased the man down and caught up with him thanks to Fortune's spotlight in the safari truck. 

     It took us a few minutes to catch up with the thief because at first, we trusted that he was going to a place nearby to get us our Chibuku. Fortune was intuitive enough to realize that the man with, "Legalize Marijuana" tattooed on his arm might not be the most trustworthy person, so he announced his doubts and incited the chase. The two cooks caught him because Fortune shined a spotlight into a dark field where the thief attempted to conceal himself. The two cooks grabbed a large piece of wood and swung it at the man without questions. For some reason, the thief abandon, or hid the 40 Pula somewhere nearby and no longer had it in his possession. Pinned on the ground by the cooks, Fortune ransacked the man's pockets and snatched the few things he had. The thief was thrown in the safari truck and the cooks sat on either side of him. The two UB students would later inform me that in Setswana, they threatened to drive very far away and drop the man off in the middle of nowhere, alone and naked. Rather than waste gas money driving far away, we did the more responsible thing and extradited his thieving ass to the police station. 

     The police were violent. This man had been arrested multiple times and the police in Kasane were tired of his antics. I sat alone in a room with the police chief, a woman writing the report and a skinny thief who had his viewpoint regarding marijuana laws tattooed on his arm. Unable to understand anything other than basic greetings, i didn't follow the intense conversation in Setswana. However, I knew that the skinny fellow fucked up as the chief fumed and ended up heaving a three hole puncher into the ribs of the impotent thief. At that point, i kind of felt like shit because it was a mere six dollars that this man was suffering for. It was just $6 and i didn't plan on returning to Kasane, so i told the police chief that i would not press charges. Perhaps dissatisfied with the level of brutality up to that point, or just angry enough to use this as an excuse to inflict violence, the police assured me that they would deliver a substantial beating to the thief prior to his release. I don't condone violence, nor do i approve of stealing, so i felt disconcerted as i lay in my tent on my last night in Kasane. 

     Replaying the insanity of the day continuously in my mind, i got little sleep and woke up at 4 am ready to board a bus back to Gabs. We headed to the Kasane bus station around 5 am optimistic about boarding a bus that morning. The two local UB students informed us that when the bus arrives, we all must jostle our way into it to ensure that we will get a seat or standing space. Boarding the bus was almost as much of a clusterfuck as riding it. 

Waiting for the Bus Kasane 2011

     Against all odds, each of us somehow made it on despite the numerous folks left behind due to the lack of space within the bucket of bolts. Amongst livestock and a profusion of people, we embarked on what ended up being a 16 hour 600 mile journey south to Gabs. The bus was delayed for multiple reasons, including but not limited to foot and mouth disease checkpoints, its overall inability to haul twice as many passengers as seats available, and the constant shit and/or piss stops in the middle of the Kalahari. Due to the lack of human existence along the A33 and A1 highways, there are no legitimate locations to facilitate the passage of bowel movements or urine. As a result, we would intermittently stop on the side of the desolate highway so that anyone within the jalopy could quickly run into the desert to shit and/or piss. Despite how weird this experience seems now as i write it, it was only a day prior that i watched a baboon steal a woman's purse, went bungee jumping, and watched a thief experience police brutality after stealing $6 from me. I know this last line is cheesy as hell but whatevs, TIA right? (TIA=This Is Africa)

Bus Stop in Francistown 2011