The village

About twenty kilometres outside Livingstone, the capital of Zambia, there’s a small village called Simonga. To me, it is a very sad place, not because of any disease or social problems like alcohol, but because of the journey that it’s on.

It is a tiny example of what’s happening all over Africa and what happened in the old days of colonisation in India, Canada, the US, Australia and many other places. The clash of cultures. But let me go to the beginning.

Karen and I were staying nearby at Sussi and Chuma lodge, on the Zambezi River. (There’s a reference to the resort in another post in this blog.)They asked us if we’d like to visit a typical village and we said yes. I wondered about tourists visiting  a “typical” village. So a guide in an open-topped Landcruiser took us to the village for a walking visit, and to meet the head lady.

Karen and the Queen. "Free range" duck in he background.

Her name is Elizabeth Inonge, she was chosen by the royal family to be head lady when her father died in 1971 and when you address her, you remove head covering, bow slightly and clap your hands slowly, three times.Karen gave her some pencils and things that we’d brought from Australia for the school.

We sat on the patio of her little old house on old furniture while I talked with a man called Bernard Mayumbelo, who is called Village Co-ordinator.

We talked about a lot of things – health, education, water, sanitation, food and so on.

They live a life that I couldn’t live. There’s an impression everywhere of dirt and decay, domestic neglect, torn clothes and a kind of rough village life that wouldn’t suit me at all. But it’s a wrong impression, I discovered. It’s just not our way.

House with tin roof, plastic and tv aerial

Mud house under construction

What about their food, for instance. They eat everything they grow themselves. Maize, vegetables, the best spinach you’ve ever seen in your life, dried fish, eggs, chickens, ducks. It goes on and on.

A mid-morning snack was a bowl of newly boiled maize kernels. Everyone was eating them.

If you asked them about organics they wouldn’t know what you’re talking about because everything’s “organic”. They don’t eat food with preservatives, cheese, sugary cereals, ice cream, cakes and biscuits, alcohol. The chickens are all “free range”, together with the ducks. Their food is what we should all be eating.

The charcoal maker

I photographed a man with a traditional axe. He was the charcoal maker, I learned, who produced the fuel for the cooking fires.

Despite the “long drop” toilets, there are no flies anywhere.

The chickens lay in here - convenient.

And there’s no obesity among children or adults. The kids are all bright eyed, energetic and they are clean, with the healthiest looking teeth I’ve ever seen.

But civilisation is intruding now. There’s a school, with 379 kids from grade one to grade nine and 14 teachers. Problem is, after grade nine it’s 18 kilometres to get to a school in Livingstone where they can continue their education. And there’s no way to get there – no bus, no cars – just a walk of nearly three hours each way, each day. Imagine the frustration. What happens to those kids, in their teens, who want to learn, to be part of western life, but who know that it’s not going to happen. Frustration, I think. That will motivate some, destroy others.

Is all this exposure to what we call civilisation good or bad, at the end of the day. I don’t know.

In the village, things are still done the old way in lots of cases. But we were shown around by a teenaged “guide”. And one family had bought a TV set, powered by car batteries hooked up to solar panels so they could watch the world cup. They took the TV set outside their mud hut for everyone to share. So the kids get to see commercials about cola drinks, cereals and iPods.

And they can look at the white people, especially children, living a life of apparent luxury. They don't see the bad things that civilisation brings.

Outside the village, down the main road, tar-sealed, as you approach the town, there are big wide drains either side of the road that are repositories for rubbish. People sit around in the dirt and under tin shelters, smoking and not doing much. Then you get to the city, where there are cars, people in suits, taxis and fast food.

I felt that this piece of road  was the story of evolution of Africa, in 20 kilometres. Was it evolution or destruction? I couldn’t say.

Gradually a feeling of sadness came over me. In Simonga Village, there’s a conflict between tribal and western civilisations, and there’s no solution. It’s not possible to select only the best of both worlds. I wondered whether there would be a place for Head Lady Elizabeth Inonge, not too far into the future.

I remembered a book called “Naked Under Capricorn” by Olaf Ruhen, about the effects of whites on aboriginal society in north eastern Australia. Read it, if you can find it. They made it into a film with aboriginal actor David Gulpilil.

The broken pump - note the red shoes

When Bernard and I talked about water, Bernard told me that a Japanese aid group had put in a pump in 1998 but it had broken recently. Now, they were relying on a second well, which was operated by a diesel pump, but they only had money to buy fuel every so often.

Karen and I decided we would pay the $US300 for repairs.

I asked Bernard how we could make it happen. So at his suggestion, we transferred the money directly into the “Simonga Village Project Account” with the Zambia National Commercial Bank. The Sussi and Chuma managers, Simon and Isobel, offered to manage the little project for us.

Bernard gave us his email address (would you believe) for ongoing communication. When we were leaving, Bernard’s cellphone rang, the only one in the village, he told me........ It seemed to me that it was the world calling and it was the saddest sound I’d heard for a long time.

Abercrombie and Kent

I cannot speak too highly of Abercrombie and Kent. My wife and I spent most of August in Africa – in Kenya, Botswana, Zambia and South Africa, then back to Australia to Perth and south-western Australia .

I am a photographer and I wanted to see the wildebeest migration in Kenya’s Masai Mara, Victoria Falls in Zambia, the Okavango delta in Botswana and Cape town in South Africa.

It was a difficulty itinerary and it took a lot of work for a lot of people over several months to make it work.

The top honcho was Faye Dowling  from Melbourne – she battled through flights, accommodation reservations and other issues – back and forth with us, made all the more difficult because we were in Europe, Australia and New Zealand while it was all going on. Finally, she had it nailed.

Then, right at the end, on the weekend before our departure, when the wheels came off our Perth agenda and Faye was away (not her fault, by the way), Patrick Clementson jumped into the breach, with emails and phone calls flashing back and forth. Good guy, Patrick, and I speak highly of him.

It is difficult to find bad things to say about A&K. I think they use too much paper but if that’s the only criticism, then hey, it’s small potatoes.

The best part was that dreadful A&K sign. I’ve spent a lifetime in the world of media, and it breaks many of the rules. It’s not pretty, but it really works and that’s what’s important. It was an absolute joy to see the sign in the arrivals halls of the airports. Many a time we heaved a sigh of relief to see that yellow sign and the smiling face behind it.

The guides took over in the arrivals hall, leaving the airport, carparks, everything. And a package of information about what we’d be doing at this location. The itinerary was planned down to the last detail with things we wanted to do, not some kind of one-size-fits-all package.

Now what about this: They even tip the bellboy at the hotel when you arrive. They explained to us that most travellers wouldn’t have local currency, so the A&K guide does it.

And when you leave, at the airport, they don’t just abandon you at the door or even at the check in counter. Your guide will walk with you to the check in desk, see you all done, then watch you through security and immigration until you are safely inside the terminal.

The photo shows Wanda meetings us at Perth airport. The sign stands out here, but in an African airport, with maybe a hundred (I am not joking) people with signs in the arrival hall, and you see the yellow sign, it is a huge comfort.

Everything was so smooth I called it the Teflon organisation – nothing sticks. We found out it takes more than a year of training and education to become an A&K guide.

We had nearly 20 flights, involving six countries – Australia, New Zealand,Kenya, Botswana, Zambia and South Africa. (It sounds like a lot, but many of the flights were light aircraft from an airport to a camp; they still had to be organised, however.)

The A&K people know their market, they have worked hard to understand what people like us (retired) need in the details and they make sure they deliver.

The accommodation they chose for us was the very best – high quality. I remember the Cape Grace Hotel in Cape Town. Right at the marina, walking distance to everything and the people were incredible. It has become my new favourite hotel in the world.

I must mention the Richardson Hotel in Perth. I had lost my power cable for my laptop and asked where I could buy one. Nope, they said. We’ll do that for you. Sent someone out to buy the cable and charged me only the price of the item. Talk about service!

A couple of other things. Somehow (I suspect Faye had a hand in this) everyone knew it was my birthday and a few days later, our wedding anniversary. At the Cape Grace hotel, a silver tray of chocolates arrived with “happy birthday” written in chocolate.

Earlier, at the Olonana resort in the Masai Mara, Kenya, there was a celebration of my birthday int he main dining room. All the staff came out in a conga line, chanting, with the head chef carrying a cake, complete with candles. I felt obliged to make a speech at the end of it. All the guests had a piece of the cake and later came up to me offering birthday congratulations. So that’s A&K for you.

We had brushes with several A&K people, but special thanks to the following A&K people:

Fiona in Nairobi, who did battle with a bush airline that wanted to charge us excess baggage for my cameras.

Yvonne in Johannesberg, who rocketed us through the airport when our arriving flight was late and we were at risk of missing the departing flight.

Peter Rowe in Cape Town. A great feller and most interesting conversationalist. That’s him in the other picture with my wife, Karen. We were at lunch in wine country and they brought out enough food to feed ten people.

Wanda in Perth – the smiling lady behind the sign.

And to the people behind the scenes.

A&K are very personal in matching your trip to your wants and needs. They’re not for backpackers, they don’t have great big buses with fifty people, but if you’re getting on a bit, like I am, and you want comfort, nice people and everything to work with no wheels coming off, then do what we’ll do from now on – A&K.

Cape Town -- the end of the Africa trip.

Cape Town. Karen has gone for an after-breakfast walk and I am sitting here writing. We leave for Perth this afternoon. I hope our luggage is OK. I will carry the electrical things rather than putting them into the sea to summit bags and I have couriered my two knives (the Leatherman and a little sheath knife I use to cut fruit and so on) to the hotel in Perth. So hopefully the xray machines won’t show up anything appealing to the bad buggers in the airport.
Cape Town is wonderful. All the horror stories we heard are about events that would take place in any large city.
We went to the funicular railway at the Cape, and boughtt two plastic wrapped sandwiches. I put Karen's on this little stand-up table, right by my hand, inches away, while I unwrapped mine. Suddenly there was a thump and a flash and there was a baboon's bum, three metres away, with Karen's  sandwich. A coouple of minutes later she saw him, a lump of her egg and mayonnaise sandwich in his cheek and the mixture all over his lips. She lectured him, but he didn't seem to care. I re-enacted the scene for the photo in this blog.

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I have talked to a few whites and blacks, and there are still issues – like a whole generation of people who weren’t educated when apartheid was around. They all work hard because they want more for their kids.
We also saw penguins, one of only three land-based gatherings in the world.
The hotel, the Cape Grace, is easily the best hotel I have ever been in. The decor is magic, the people wonderful. It is kind-of old English, yet modern. When we arrived here, they'd heard about my birthday (from A&K, no doubt) and there was a bottle of champagne and a decorated tray of chocolates.
And the picture above shows how they decorate their things for afternoon tea. Very elegant.

Just down to the road from us on the wharf, there's a huge "man" made of normal Coca Cola crates. I have no idea what it's about, but it's sure spectacular.
In the park, the squirrels are so tame they come right up to you, expecting food. One liked Karen so much he climbed her leg.
We also went to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was incarcerated. I took pictures of the island rocks and flowers, and also his cell.
I would come back to South Africa, if we could avoid Johannesberg.

Japanese snack food and Victoria Falls.

Victoria Falls from the air

Our next stop was Victoria Falls, staying at a camp called Sussi and Chuma. Funny thing – because of people’s bad pronunciation (or perhaps my hearing!), I thought people were saying “Sushi n’Chuma”. I thought it was a Japanese snack food with some kind of local drink. But in fact Sussi and Chumas were the two loyal blacks who were with Dr Livingstone during his explorations. Nothing to do with Japanese snack food.
Anyway, at Livingstone we saw the Vic Falls, of course.

Sussi & Chuma (S&C from now on) was fascinating.
The lodge is on the Zambesi River and that was very romantic by itself.

My wife Karen outside our "lodge"

Staff were wonderful, nothing was too much trouble, it was spotlessly clean and evening drinks around the firepits were something else. Watching the sun go down over the Zambesi when the barman handed you a gin and tonic was straight out of an old "white hunter" movie. There were monkeys and elephants right outside our lodge.

He was five metres away

"You better come away from him"

The best part was the rhinos in an area a few kilometres up the road. We had one closeup encounter with a big male. I couldn’t get a good pic of him through the grass, so I circled to my right, to this kind of flattened path he was using. He started to come towards me. “Bloody good,” I thought and kept shooting. What I didn’t know, looking through the eyepiece, was he was five metres away “and closing”. The ranger, armed with an AK47 hauled me out of the way and told me later that the rhino was heading for the flattened grass under “his tree”, behind me.  He’d have seen me soon and then things could have gotten ugly.
The rangers stay with the five rhinos in the park on four-hour shifts. I asked him what would happen if he found a poacher. “We arrest them,” he said. “What if they resist, start to shoot?” I said. “Then we shoot back,” with a little smile.

Monkey duty with catapult.Dining area is behind the camera

One morning at breakfast, there was this man with a catapult in his hand. The manager’s partner, Isobel, told us the monkeys had been “naughty” and stealing food off the breakfast tables. The guard’s job was to scare them away.
We went to a local village and Karen gave the head lady the pencils and things we’d brought from Australia. (see the post called "The village") We also decided to fund repairs on a pump that was broken. We saw it, and it was. The S&m manager, Simon, will supervise the repairs and make sure everything is on the up and up. But that’s another story....

Chief's Camp, in the Okovango Delta.

We flew out of Bains Camp on the morning of the 19^th for Chief’s Camp, and the difference was chalk and cheese. Both still in the Okovango delta, but where Bains was an hour through windscreen-deep water to get there from the airstrip, Chief’s was a few minutes and dry.

Our guide at Chief’s was called Sky, who had a deep and throaty voice and an extraordinary sense of humour.

Mostly, the big cats sleep during the day, but we were lucky enough to follow a pride – females and two males – as they tracked some impala. Didn’t see a kill, but they were serious enough. I managed to get some good pix of one of them walking through water and taking a drink by a pool. The reflections make the pictures.

There were also some incredible sightings of babies --- twin giraffes, timid baby elephants staying close to their mothers and even a baby hyena hidden in a thorn thicket.

Each afternoon, out on the savannah, we would stop for sundown drinks. I caught a picture of Karen doing her “Out of Africa” imitation. I like this picture.

We did a helicopter flight, and the pilot obligingly took off the doors for an unimpeded view. Karen sat in the right hand seat so she had the best view in the chopper.

The food at the camp was unbelievable. Each night it was white tablecloths and imaginative things to eat. The wine list wasn’t bad, either!

The bears had a good time. They went out on a wooden canoe. Ted wasn’t impressed because he doesn’t like water, but Po thought it was good. Being a polar bear, he was looking for seals to eat and was disappointed when we told him there weren’t any.

The camp had baboons, which was good, becase in the night if you heard them screaming, they were chasing away lions.

The night dining shot shows how we ate most nights. Only a couple of dozen people.

The guide with the cap turned around is Sky, scanning for animals.

Baines Camp

It is the day after our anniversary, 18th August, and I am sitting in the communal room of Baine's Camp. If you want to know more about it, check on the internet.
Getting here was a nightmare trip -- this was the sequence: leave Olonana in the Masai Mara and fly to Nairobi, wait for a while and then take a commercial flight to Johannesberg. It's back into South Africa of course from Kenya, another country. Then it was overnight in the Intercontinental hotel at the airport. Pickup at 8 a.m. next day, then fly in a small commercial propjet to Maune, capital of Botswana. Maune is pronounced like a cat wanting food.
Maune is a country airport with customs in demountable plywood little cubicles. So we were met by an A&K rep, and introduced to our light aircraft pilot. Eight people. Now here's an interesting thing - Id been worried about overweight luggage because someone had said 17kg total including cameras. Both our soft bags weighed a little over that, but my cameras were 10kg on their own. Howeerr, the South Afrian pilot, named George, just loaded everything into the baggage carrier under the aircragft and off we went.
Fifteen minutes to Baine's Campp and then the fun really started. The drivers told us to keep our feet up beause there had been a lot of rain in countries north of here and everything is flooded. He wasn't kidding. It took an hour of up and down through the swamps. Picture shows the windscreen with water over the bonnet of the landcruiser.
There's another photo of us sitting down at the dining room table -- it was our anniversary, remember.
Then today we had this incredible elephant outing. The animals are "wild" in the sense that they wander freely, but the owner/manager/friend has them trained, though that's the wrong word.
Various of the photos are self explanatory, though there's one of Karen with her face screwed up. The idea was that I'd kiss her from one side, and the elephant from the other
Other thoughts:

• I wish we'd brought more cash. Most places happily take US$, UK pounts and wait for it, Oz dollars
• No problems. Mozzies? Yep, a few, but not as many as Brisbane in a summer evening. Here at the camp they don't take malaria tablets
• I left my computer charge cable -- thebit that plugs into the wall - in NZ, so I am now using a South African cable.

Karen just commented that this whole trip to Baine's Camp has been about the elephant experience and it's been perfect.
Tomorrow we go to Chief's Camp, a few minutes' flight time away. Look it up too, if you have a mind to.

TheOlonana pix at last

Here are the Olonona pizx at last. We are at Nairobi airport on the way to somewhere.... I dunno. Do what I'm told now.