This has nothing to do with Philly. That's the point.
The Zambezi River runs along the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe. Where it crashes over the Victoria Falls, both countries have erected a bridge from which to view the cascade and, incidentally, to cross borders. Below the Falls, the river foam dissipates, the crocodiles sleep on little sand bars and the flow deepens into a meandering river that could be anywhere – Mississippi, Brazil, Paris.
Suddenly, though, a herd of elephants appears on the Zimbabwe side and I know we are not just anywhere. There must be seventy of them. Our guide, who has been managing the outboard motor in our aluminum boat, suddenly shuts it off and whispers at us to be quiet. "I think they may want to swim across," he says, "Don't spook them."
So we sit silently in the hot African breeze as mokurues, dug-out canoes, glide by paddled by native people. They wave at us, careful to be quiet too.
A massive elephant, the herd's matriarch, steps out into the river, proceeds about twenty yards and stops to look around. We are only 50 yards away, but we don't appear threatening and we don't make a sound. Slowly, other elephants join her and they wade out further into the river. Then come the babies, cradled in the crooks of their mothers' trunks. They don't swim but they sure appear to be enjoying the ride.
And now the first elephants in the parade are reaching the Zambia side of the river, where they either shake themselves like poodles or role on the ground, making happy grunts and bleats.
The herd takes about a half hour to make the crossing from Zimbabwe to Zambia, where they continue their trek.
The Guide powers up the outboard and we continue our trek too. But we will never forget the moments.
The Zambezi River runs along the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe. Where it crashes over the Victoria Falls, both countries have erected a bridge from which to view the cascade and, incidentally, to cross borders. Below the Falls, the river foam dissipates, the crocodiles sleep on little sand bars and the flow deepens into a meandering river that could be anywhere – Mississippi, Brazil, Paris.
Suddenly, though, a herd of elephants appears on the Zimbabwe side and I know we are not just anywhere. There must be seventy of them. Our guide, who has been managing the outboard motor in our aluminum boat, suddenly shuts it off and whispers at us to be quiet. "I think they may want to swim across," he says, "Don't spook them."
So we sit silently in the hot African breeze as mokurues, dug-out canoes, glide by paddled by native people. They wave at us, careful to be quiet too.
A massive elephant, the herd's matriarch, steps out into the river, proceeds about twenty yards and stops to look around. We are only 50 yards away, but we don't appear threatening and we don't make a sound. Slowly, other elephants join her and they wade out further into the river. Then come the babies, cradled in the crooks of their mothers' trunks. They don't swim but they sure appear to be enjoying the ride.
And now the first elephants in the parade are reaching the Zambia side of the river, where they either shake themselves like poodles or role on the ground, making happy grunts and bleats.
The herd takes about a half hour to make the crossing from Zimbabwe to Zambia, where they continue their trek.
The Guide powers up the outboard and we continue our trek too. But we will never forget the moments.
Unexpected and refreshing, b'wana! I can see you and MizKay standing in for the cast of Bogey's African Queen on that river...say hello to Stanley and Livingstone if you run into them up river.
ReplyDeleteForget Rider Haggard...I'd recommend Alexander McCall Smith's "No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" series for this trip -- deceptively simple writing that demonstrates the author's real affection and understanding of the people and customs of 'darkest' Africa.
By the way, can we get the herd of reactionary elephants (GOP) to follow in lock trunk across the river to Zimbabwe or Zambia, n'importe quoi?