Horace was the worst of one-night stands: he left before I woke. No wonder I
slept in. Although he might deny this, Horace had kept me awake half the
night with his snoring, which was rich and persistent. I wasn’t complaining
too much, however. I’d expected much from my canoe expedition to the
Victoria Falls, but I hadn’t expected to sleep with a hippo.
There was no way I was going to nudge Horace to turn over — not after hearing
my guide, SK, talk about hippopotamus behaviour on my first morning. “Hippos
are dangerous,” he said, as we stood beside the glittering Zambezi near the
Zambian village of Katambora. “They won’t eat you, but if they feel
threatened, they will attack. They have big teeth and they are verrrry
heavy.”
The broad river was sprinkled with islands and fringed with exotic trees. It
seemed like paradise to my sore, city-dwelling eyes — but not to SK. He saw
only the dangers.
“Watch out for the crocodiles,” he went on. “Large, very fast and verrrry
fierce. They grow to 16ft and have up to 80 teeth. Keep your hands and feet
inside the canoe.”
I looked at the inflatable craft we were about to launch and wondered whether
rubber would withstand croc or hippo teeth. I also wondered about that
roaring noise I could hear coming from beyond a stand of trees. We were some
way above the Victoria Falls, which one of the local tribes calls
Mosi-oa-Tunya, “the smoke that thunders”. Was I hearing the thunder? “That’s
just the Katambora rapids,” SK said. “Nothing to worry about.” He handed me
a helmet and life jacket. “But there are dangers,” he added darkly.
FOR EVERYTHING that followed, I have two very different men to thank. The
first is David Livingstone, the Scottish missionary who passed Katambora in
November 1855 on his way to becoming the first recorded European to see the
falls, which he named after his queen. Where other colonial figures have had
bad press in Africa, Zambians still adore Livingstone. As a boy, SK was
taught that Livingstone told the world about the falls and fought slavery.
“Without him, I might not be here.
And you wouldn’t be, either.”
The other person I have to thank is Robert Mugabe. The Zambezi separates
Zambia from Zimbabwe, and until a few years ago, most visitors approached
the Victoria Falls from the Zimbabwean side, which has hotels and tour
companies to look after them. Since Mugabe launched his land- reform
programme, however, most foreigners stay on the Zambian side. While the
Lower Zambezi — below the falls — has become an adventure park, the Upper
Zambezi has wildlife and some beautiful riverside lodges, but is less
visited.
We pushed the canoe out, me in front, SK at the back, a motor behind him. I
scoffed at that. After the rains, the Zambezi flows so fast you don’t really
need to paddle. Even in the dry season, we moved without too much effort,
picking up speed as we approached the rapids, which looked gentle enough,
but still soaked us. SK smiled knowingly.
The Zambezi’s small sand islands closed down the horizon, but provided plenty
to look at. SK pointed out the many birds along their banks — the vultures,
a cormorant, some storks. Then something slid into the river, very near us.
Very near.
“Crocodile,” was all SK said, paddling swiftly across the channel.
Television has made an art out of wildlife-watching, feeding us lingering
views into the private lives of creatures. Real time in the wild is
different: the croc moved so quickly that all I saw was its spine gliding
into the water. I didn’t see much more of the hippos that surfaced briefly
further downstream: “To check who we are,” my guide explained. Then the
breeze picked up and SK laughed. “Still want to paddle?” Well, I did, but
the wind was practically blowing us back upriver. We motored to Siankaba.
Without Mugabe’s folly, the islands of Siankaba probably wouldn’t exist. It is
the reason that Simon Wilde, a Zimbabwean, opted to set his luxury camp on
two Zambian islands. On one, he built six wooden rooms, hidden in the trees.
On the other, he built a restaurant, bar and pool.
Wilde is so successful at creating a house-party atmosphere that even the
honeymooners joined in as we ate together, strolled through nearby Siankaba
village and paddled out onto the river for a sundowner. The first day of my
journey concluded in classic African style: around the campfire, galaxies
above us, unidentified sounds all around.
Gathering around a fire is one experience we can still share with Livingstone,
150 years on. Another is travelling in a mokoro, a dugout canoe like those
the explorer used to reach the falls in 1855. Mine had been carved from a
balsa-like manketti tree. I sat on a chair in the middle while Lemmy Nyambe
punted us into the stream.
As well as wielding the heavy oar, Lemmy was skilled at spotting game —
bushbuck, hippos, crocs — and at identifying trees. I was particularly
struck by the tentacle-like roots of the waterberry, the arms of the baobab
and the leaves of the mangosteen. Lemmy took me as far as Sindabezi, another
island bush camp, this one with just five beds. I spent the evening watching
baboons play in the Zambezi National Park while the red sunset dissolved
into the river.
But the real thrill at Sindabezi came after dark. There is no electricity, so
five of us were dining by candlelight — crocodile on the menu — when
conversation was halted by a noise from the riverbank. A hippo strolled
slowly past the table.
“Don’t stop talking,” our hostess suggested. “Horace likes voices.”
Unlike other hippos, Horace grazes all day and comes ashore at night. So it
was that he chose to kip near my bed, snoring through vast nostrils. All
things considered, I was glad he was a heavy sleeper.
Continued on page 2
()Just a few more miles of beautiful river to the falls. Most of Zambia’s
riverside developments lie below Sindabezi, including the Zambezi Sun, where
I spent the following night.
The Sun and its upmarket twin, the Royal Livingstone, have been built inside
the national park, right beside the falls. This must have had wildlife
campaigners gnashing their teeth, but it doesn’t seem to have upset the
animals, which got to me before I’d even had breakfast.
A sign outside my room asked me to Please Beware of Crocodiles. I assumed it
was a gag, but it turned out to be the beginning of a safari: I encountered
a small croc sunbathing just behind the sign; zebra were cropping the grass;
baboons were bothering guests at the terrace restaurant; and a family of
elephants were crossing the road. Overexcited, I returned to the river.
Livingstone landed his mokoro on a small island in the middle of the surging
stream, which has since taken his name. The island is sacred to the local
tribe, who made sacrifices here to the river gods, and it provides the most
spectacular view of one of the wonders of the world. Livingstone crawled to
the edge, looked down and declared this “the most wonderful sight I had seen
in Africa”.
There was one trick, however, the good man missed. I stormed across to
Livingstone Island on a twin-engined banana boat, and a guide named Samson
took me to the south bank, where he suggested that I dive into the river. We
were a dozen feet from the edge of the falls. Apart from the obvious, I
thought about the dangers SK had warned against, but Samson declared that
hippos and crocs don’t like fast-flowing water. In I jumped.
Below the falls, people were bungee-jumping and white-water rafting, flipping
helicopters inside the gorge and flying microlights above it. But nothing
could compare to this.
The river, surprisingly warm and unsurprisingly powerful, pushed me towards
the brink of the falls, where a ridge of rock stopped me from going over.
Leaning across it, I watched the river fall 328ft and throw back a spray —
the “smoke” — and a roar — the “thunder”. It also made a rainbow.
It wasn’t till I got home and saw the photographs that I realised the
rainbow ended, leprechaun-style, in the river, just beside me.
- Anthony Sattin travelled as a guest of Sunvil Africa
Travel brief
Getting there: it’s best to fly to Livingstone from Heathrow,
via Johannesburg, with British Airways (0870 850 9850, www.ba.com) or
South African Airways (0870 747 1111, www.flysaa.com); from about £800.
Tour operators: Sunvil Africa (020 8232 9777,
www.sunvil.co.uk/africa) offers 10 nights in Zambia, with stays at
Siankaba, Sindabezi and the Zambezi Sun, from £1,737pp, including BA
flights from Heathrow via Johannesburg, activities andsome meals. A
three-night stop in Livingstone as an add-on to a safari in Botswana
starts at £269pp.
Other operators include Tribes (01728 685971, www.tribes.co.uk), Audley Travel
(01869 276250, www.audleytravel.co.uk) and Cedarberg Travel (020 8941
1717, www.cedarbergtravel.com). Run Wild (00 26 097 653719, e-mail
runwild@ iwayafrica.com) offers half-day river safaris from £44pp,
including drinks. Trips to Livingstone Island cost £24 for breakfast,
£56 for lunch and £32 for tea, including with transfer and guide (00 26
097 771488, www.tongabezi.co.za/livingstoneisland).
