The Essence of the Journey!

Matusadona National Park – Zimbabwe

Celeste

 Leaving Chizarira, the road wound through interesting terrain, alternating flat and winding and climbing again through pretty villages. Schoolchildren were outside, collected like

bananas 500 Kwacha each

leaves under large, shade trees; some in uniform, some not. Bicycles, usually with more than one person, the pedaller sweating heavily, the other clinging clumsily behind. Two pumpkins (one for free as a thank you) and ten small, fat finger bananas bought at a roadside stall. Two on a small scooter skidded to a halt on a sandy uphill and had to disembark. Fields of mielies and green, leafy vegetables ( rape) as if crossed between spinach and rocket, each atop its own mound of earth. We purchased eggs (cradled in my lap), bread, beer and suckers at a small shop where we asked for directions. Descending down, down, down through a rocky gorge, we headed for the Ume River, alongside a large group of teenaged schoolchildren – laughing. Little did we know what their keen interest and mirth was all about! They did not know any English apart from the oft-used “What is your name?” Giggle, giggle.

  The bridges must have been washed away many rainy seasons ago, both the high and the low stopping mid-river. The water was running steadily past and the sandy bottom swallowed up our feet up to mid calf with the water about mid-thigh level. It was lovely and cool and clear.

We had to give it a go. Nicolai and I walked through, cameras ready. Marcelo gunned it but was brought to an abrupt halt by the sandy sand, that grainy river sand that swirls away with the eddying water and there the Prado stood, water quarter of the way up the doors and the even heavier trailer deeper in behind. The locals started gathering: more schoolchildren, mothers with babes – unwrapped whimpering from sarongs and suckled on their breasts. Then the men on bicycles, on foot and even on donkey cart. They milled around, pointing, chatting and disconcertingly, laughing at our misfortune. The winch snapped the rocks we

had attached it to on our first attempt. On our second, the winch came all out and took much fixing to be re-attached. There were now three guys helping under the car, toolboxes laid out on the sandy banks. The trailer would not come off the tow bar, jammed. Having the car winch out the trailer, facing one another was the final face-off.  After five hours and several hundred rand in pushing, pulling and lifting fees, eventually we were freed from the Ume River – whose name is carved in our memories.  The chief’s son came to greet us and we were glad to know that only fifteen kms further was the signposted Matusadona. From there he said the road was ‘not good’ but at least there were bridges.

 Relieved to have finally reached Matusadona, we crawled to an achingly slow 8km/hr on the rocky, uneven, eroded track – at least this only one was clearly travelled. Darkness descended as we reversed the trailer into a rocky clearing alongside a stream. We flipped open the tent and slept to the sounds of distant hyena and Scops Owl.

Early morning birding and a naked swim and wash in the stream – how wonderful! The road was long, difficult, up and down huge ascents and descents, with beautiful trees and views. Signing in at the gate with a uniformed lady, gun casually slung over her shoulder – a sharp contrast with the mothers of yesterday. A long, long, slow road with an abandoned trailer on the side. It was new and not yet rusted, broken axle, emptied out. No number plate but sporting a familiar sticker ‘Big Country’ and we knew that it too had been through Richard’s Kya Sands Commercial Park workshop, as our vehicle had done.

 

We finally reached the headquarters, burnt-out vehicles lining the workshop area. Friendly and helpful staff received us, Marcelo even arranging 40l of diesel which the staff travelled to Crocodile Farm across the water to fetch. The campsite was deserted save for the wildlife. A perfect spot, a huge peninsula with Lake Kariba on three sides. Ablutions and large shade trees: Natal Mahogany (Trichilia emetica), Stink Bushwillow (Pteleopsis myrtifolia), Willow-leaved Shepherd Tree (Boscia salicifolia) with a large troop of baboons eating from the huge Common Cluster Fig (Ficus sycamorus). They kept company with the herd of impala, accompanying them down to the lake shore to drink every dawn and dusk.

 

curious mr one tusk

To our delight and consternation, depending on the distance, there were three elephants bathing in the lake, feeding in the camp area and sharing our space (or more accurately us sharing theirs). They were peaceful enough and somewhat curious, coming within three metres of Marcelo sitting in his camp chair. What was he doing? Photographing them, of course.  Where were we? In the car, of course. They were wonderful to watch, bathing and playing in the lake from our vantage point on the side of a particularly large termite mound. From this very same spot, we enjoyed sundowners , the sun teasing the grey clouds with hints of glints. Both Danica and Nicolai were inspired to sketch this scene, deep purple mountains on the horizon.

 Danica and I walked along the lakeshore in the early morning amidst myriads of tracks: elephant, hippo, water monitor, birds, jackals and even white-tailed mongoose. Huge, lumpy crocodiles lay sprawled at the corner and hippos sploshed and jostled along the shallow ridge to the small island. We dipped only our toes in, respecting the local lore of having the hugest and most crocodiles per square kilometre of any lake in Africa!

 We attempted, but failed to reach Hippo Lodge 17km away over nasty and then totally impassable tracks. However, we found the two so-called lodges (just hutted national parks accommodation) that were beautifully positioned with two bedrooms, a central kitchen and lapa area – clean and well-kept. Regular houseboats skitted across the water, their motors audible or not depending on the wind.

 We cooked and baked and ate to our hearts content. We wrote and caught up on schoolwork. We (Nicolai, Danica and I) all had a chance at ‘barbering’ Marcelo’s hair, i.e. shaving it. Nicolai had his shaved down to a number two. I even gave the children each a’ mani- and pedicure’ – looking after one’s hands and feet is of utmost importance – hygienically and functionally.

 

The open sky overhead the expanse of Lake Kariba was majestic: softly shimmering dusk hues changing to grey waves barreled in by the wind.  Our last night was one of humbled awe in the might of Nature’s power. The dry storm brought enormous gusting winds and lightning so intense and vast and prolonged, sheeting across the sky, commanding the retreat of darkness. The tent pegs were uprooted. Marcelo, the brave,

had to re-peg and ‘drop anchor’ of the last remaining stabilizing leg of the trailer as well as park the vehicle so that the we were in the wind-shadow. Then the thunder came rolling in with large drops of pelting rain. ‘When I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds thy hands have made, I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, thy power throughout the universe displayed, then sings my soul ……’