Where's Zambia?

TDA Days 85 to 95
Zambia

It's been a very long time since I have last been homesick. Of all places in Africa it was on a winding road up hills and more hills in Zambia that it struck me. There was something about those hills and the forest that touched me. And then there was the foliage colour on some: yellow and red and rusty. "It is fall!" I suddenly realized and homesickness took over soon.

Yet on these days I did not take pictures. Spiros was sick and as much as I tried to overcome it I felt sad for days in a row. Not even Pepe was able to cheer me up consistently in spite of his efforts. The beauty of the rolling hills and clouds finally reached me only the day we rolled into Lusaka. Over the many sleepless hours I kept thinking about this journey and the strength - or weaknesses - it made you discover in yourself and others. We had all come here for challenge and with some expectations. And yes, we were all challenged in many ways, yet the strength that was tested - and we discovered - was not always what we had expected. It was not the physical aspect of the tour but the mental and emotional one that was most challenging.

We passed sunflower fields and beautifully painted round mud huts. Quite often only the tall bags full of charcoal lined up on the roadside indicated the presence of people. The roads were all of a sudden devoid of people, the villages hidden behind the tall golden grass bordering the road. On the roadside large patches of bright orange flowers were asking for attention. Solitary red gladiolis felt lost in the tall grass.

The hills mellowed down into flat land shortly before reaching Lusaka. Lusaka, a very modern city, had a shocking effect. It somehow did not fit into the picture of the countryside we had just ridden through. This was not the same country of soft smiling people wishing you a safe journey but a buzzing place with busy people and lots of mzungus around the huge malls. Cinema and ice-cream, cappucinos and pizza - this was a place we all pampered ourselves one way or another before continuing our tour to Livingstone.

Livingstone, the town on the edge of the famous Victoria Falls offered some more pampering. An expensive resort catering to people from all over the world and offering some employment opportunities to the locals.

But, as I learned from a conversation with the "kind man born at midnight" as Lusungo's name translates into, finding a job was tough and not always was the employment matching the skills. Lusungo, a handsome young father of three with big sad eyes was working as security guard in the expensive resort. Six days a week, almost 11 hours a day. Cook by trade he wasn't able to find a job as a cook and did not have the spare time to look for it, either. He touched my heart, the kind man, telling me about his family's daily struggle. In a country with an extremely high rate of HIV and poverty children's education is by far the most important means of fighting this plague and ensuring a future. Yet providing that education to his children was not an easy task.

The encounter made me think again about how fortunate I was. And how many things I took for granted and often forgot to be thankful for. Like the simple fact of being here and being reminded of this. Africa - a lesson in beauty and humbleness - I only liked it more and more every day. Yet it felt like trying to understand the secrets in the depth of a sea by just watching the waves. Our journey only touched the surface of this sea, we hardly peeked beneath it.

Here at Victoria Falls we all spoilt ourselves with some unforgettable luxury: from bungee jumping and boat trips to flying over the falls. I chose the helicopter flight over the bungee jumps and admired in awe the size and splendour of the falls and the Zambezi river gorge at sunset. There are hardly any words to express that. And neither do I have the pictures to show their magnificence.
Further up along the Zambezi river we could spot hippos and elephants. On the shore within the resort a few "tamed" zebras and giraffes were providing a confortable wildlife experience to the visitors.

The day we left Livingstone we entered Botswana on a small shuttle ferry across the Zambezi river.



By entering Zambia we had clearly entered the world of Christian songs and gospels; the gospel song of the villagers praying and singing on a Sunday morning somewhere close to the road echoes in my heart forever. The warmth of the voices combined with the strength of the worshippers' faith - no recording could ever create or reproduce that lasting impression.

I don't feel yet educated as to where Zambia is on the world's map, yet I know where it is on the map in my heart. It is the place where homesickness strikes you and the human song transcends the human dimension.