Dec 24th - Livingstone
If Mozambique was my scariest border crossing, Zambia was the most ridiculous. It was Christmas Eve and I was planning on spending the holidays in Livingstone, on the other side of Victoria Falls.
It was hot and sunny; I was overloaded with my backpack, computer bag, and tent; and neither the Zambian border nor a taxi was anywhere in sight. I was pouring sweat when a man on a bike with a sort of makeshift rickshaw offered to take me for $15. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I bargained him down to $2 and with my backpack still attached I curled myself onto the wooden planks stretched across the back of his bike. My knees were to my chin and I felt as silly as if I’d just hopped onto Santa’s sleigh in the children’s display at the mall.
The poor guy ran with the bike for awhile to get momentum before mounting it, but the weight of me and all my stuff was too much for him to pedal. I told him I would get down, lay the bag across the back and walk with him. “No!” He refused. He seemed to find my suggestion absolutely unacceptable and would not let me down. So I was hunched into a little ball and now crossing the bridge over the fall’s gorge where people were taking a pause from the view to watch me parade by on a bike with a man sprinting along its side. I pictured how it looked and it just felt so wrong. I was begging him to let me down, but he insisted on carrying me until we reached the border. When I descended, I shoved the dollars and some extra South African rand at him and walked away quickly with my head down.
After crossing into Zambia I discovered that Livingstone was much larger than Victoria Falls. I walked around the markets, which had a more familiar African ambience – shouting, chaos, cheap wares and trash abound.
I had forgotten about the holiday rush to the ATMs and waited in line for an hour.
Finally, I went to the supermarket and bought the makings of my Christmas Eve dinner – a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Doritos and a Cadbury raisin and nut bar. I couldn’t have been happier.
Dec 25th - Livingstone
To be honest, Christmas is not one of my favorite holidays, and I’m not sorry that this is my third one abroad. Of course I like being with my family and eating good food, but I don’t miss the cold weather, the stores jammed with stressed-out shoppers, and the terrible songs.
On Christmas morning, I took a boat to Livingstone Island and at the bank I watched the river, with its strength and purpose, descend into one of the greatest forces of nature on earth.
Victoria Falls originate from the Zambezi River and descend from the cliffs of the Zambia side. Along the river there are small sections of rock and land, including Livingstone Island, which is along the edge of the main falls.
Afterwards, I took a walk on the grounds of the Royal Livingstone Hotel, where the boat had picked us up and dropped us off. Walking through the lobby, I was jealous of the wealth, the comfort, and the luxury that surrounded me. I was tempted to stay there and hide from rough bus rides and shouting men. I imagined having mimosas or bloody marys at the bar, eating a dinner buffet, and putting a room on my visa. But I hadn’t brought more than the equivalent of twenty US dollars and since the room rates started at $830 (I checked online later) I’m guessing that probably would not have bought me more than one drink. However, I was pretty content with my morning, so the feeling passed quickly and I continued on my way.
The voices of the hotel’s carolers followed me as I took a dirt path in search of the rose garden. I made a wrong turn and ended up face to face with a family of giraffes. I was nearly in hand’s reach of the mother. Afterwards I inhaled the fresh scents of different hybrids of roses.
I spent the rest of the day relaxing by the pool and reading Anthem, by Ayn Rand.
In the evening I had dinner with a few other Americans I had met the day before. We shared an Italian buffet of pumpkin ravioli with sage and butter sauce, lasagna, Greek salad and bread with pesto sauce.
Although I missed my family, I certainly did not miss Christmas.
December 26th – Dec 28th- Lusaka
I didn’t see a lot of Lusaka, but I saw enough to know that it is a blend of western shopping malls, fast food restaurants, high-rise buildings and traditional African markets, food vendors on the road sides, and fruit stands on the corners.
Maybe I should feel bad for venturing out less, but the guidebooks were sparse on activities, and the truth is I enjoyed shopping at the mall for a New Year’s Eve dress, roaming the isles of the supermarket, and eating ice cream in a booth at a fast food place.
After two and a half years in one of the most difficult countries in Africa, I thought it was okay to take a few days to enjoy some western pleasures. I was actually surprised to find them here in Zambia because I thought the country would be less developed and more traditional.
So far, in comparison to Cameroon, all the countries I have visited in the past few weeks have had far more infrastructure such as industry, buildings, and paved roads. They have also had less culture, as neither the men nor women dress in traditional clothing, there are more chain restaurants and stores, and a majority of the music is American.
It seems that as countries become more developed they also give up more of their culture.
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