At the Jo-burg airport right now. For those of you who aren't up on your international crime rankings, Jo Burg is right up there with Detriot (just kidding blake). They maintain that there are worse off countries, but they just keep better statistics than the rest. Hmmmm.
So there was no signs of crime in our short stay in an upscale suburb, but a funny thing happened at the airport. A guy came to our taxi van and started unloading bags and and he looked very official with a bright yellow vest and such...next thing you know the police are giving him the business, asking for ID, exchanging words, and then carting him off. Disaster avoided! Nice work Jo-Burg P.D. You prevented bags upon bags of African crafts from being pilfered.
Our next adventure came upon check-in. Between the 6 of us, we look like Boer Trekers from the SA days of old. All we needed were some ox-drawn carts bringing us up to the check in counter. We were advised that we exceeded the baggage quantity limit, but we were still underweight, so with the help of one of our wheelchair handlers we just shrink wrapped a couple of bags together to create one big bag, and we passed through no questions asked. It was pretty ridiculous. Same stuff, same weight. The only difference was that we wrapped it all together in a rather odd looking blob that one of us will undoubtedly be embarrased to pick up off the luggage carousel back home.
We will be boarding shortly, and the Great Trek Part Deux begins.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Dining on Tripe in Soweto
Wrapping up our brief stay in Jo-burg today. Almost ready to make the day long trek back.
Yesterday I took advantage of our free day and took a tour of town that included...
* a visit to constitution hall - the former prison who claims nelson mandela and mahatma gahndi as two of its former guests. So it was like a pilgrimage for me, since I admire both. this former prison now houses their supreme court, which upholds their relatively new constitution. i love how they decided to put the court on pint for defending rights in a building where rights were so commonly violated in SA's complicated history.
* a visit to the apartheid mueseum, which featured some amazng film and video. And an entire wall dedicated to resistance movement posters that I stared at for at least 2 hours.
* A visit to Soweto, the township where much of the resistance struggles were centered. I ate lunch at a cafe that resided in between the former residences fo two former nobel peace prize winners - ArchBishop Tutu and Mandela. I had a beer, and some Tripe (if you don't know what tripe is, don't ask - I had my Hep shots so I was feeling bullet proof) and enjoyed the scene. So far no stomach ailments (fingers crossed).
* lastly - I went to the scene of the '76 soweto riots, and quite accidently met one of the protesters that was featured in a well known photogragh of the infamous event. After meeting her, my tourguide pointed to an enlarged version of the photo and said "The girl on the left is her" Any of you who have scene the photgragh (the one of hector peitersen being carried from the scene) will remember it. At the time, it was in every international newspaper.
All in all, a very good day for a history geek like me.
And though the tripe was a bit exotic, the rest of our meals over the past week have been 5-star quality. the last safari lodge we visited has a gourmet reputation, and we determined that they fed us up to 8 times a day. And since I went up for seconds frequently, that counts for 10. So basically, I was not unlike the 2 ton rhinocerous that feeds for 18+ hours a day. I just hope the airline doesn't charge me a ticket for each ass cheek on the way back. But consider these menu items, and you'd be right there with me...
- Grilled Ostrich Steak served with a Port Wine Jus
- Little lemon pudding with passion fruit slices, almonds, biscuits and brandy snaps
- roasted pair and walnut salad w/ blue cheese dressing
- grilled rack of lamb served with a red wine and mint jus
- Pan fried salmon fillet served with avocado salsa and fresh lemon
I could go on here, but its making me hungry. Bottom line is that we dined well on our visit, so for those of you who I told "what we eat depends since we only eat what we kill" or "do you remember the dinner scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" - I was just kidding.
Yesterday I took advantage of our free day and took a tour of town that included...
* a visit to constitution hall - the former prison who claims nelson mandela and mahatma gahndi as two of its former guests. So it was like a pilgrimage for me, since I admire both. this former prison now houses their supreme court, which upholds their relatively new constitution. i love how they decided to put the court on pint for defending rights in a building where rights were so commonly violated in SA's complicated history.
* a visit to the apartheid mueseum, which featured some amazng film and video. And an entire wall dedicated to resistance movement posters that I stared at for at least 2 hours.
* A visit to Soweto, the township where much of the resistance struggles were centered. I ate lunch at a cafe that resided in between the former residences fo two former nobel peace prize winners - ArchBishop Tutu and Mandela. I had a beer, and some Tripe (if you don't know what tripe is, don't ask - I had my Hep shots so I was feeling bullet proof) and enjoyed the scene. So far no stomach ailments (fingers crossed).
* lastly - I went to the scene of the '76 soweto riots, and quite accidently met one of the protesters that was featured in a well known photogragh of the infamous event. After meeting her, my tourguide pointed to an enlarged version of the photo and said "The girl on the left is her" Any of you who have scene the photgragh (the one of hector peitersen being carried from the scene) will remember it. At the time, it was in every international newspaper.
All in all, a very good day for a history geek like me.
And though the tripe was a bit exotic, the rest of our meals over the past week have been 5-star quality. the last safari lodge we visited has a gourmet reputation, and we determined that they fed us up to 8 times a day. And since I went up for seconds frequently, that counts for 10. So basically, I was not unlike the 2 ton rhinocerous that feeds for 18+ hours a day. I just hope the airline doesn't charge me a ticket for each ass cheek on the way back. But consider these menu items, and you'd be right there with me...
- Grilled Ostrich Steak served with a Port Wine Jus
- Little lemon pudding with passion fruit slices, almonds, biscuits and brandy snaps
- roasted pair and walnut salad w/ blue cheese dressing
- grilled rack of lamb served with a red wine and mint jus
- Pan fried salmon fillet served with avocado salsa and fresh lemon
I could go on here, but its making me hungry. Bottom line is that we dined well on our visit, so for those of you who I told "what we eat depends since we only eat what we kill" or "do you remember the dinner scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" - I was just kidding.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
A Chorus of Oooo's and Ahhhh's
Back from the Bush! Sorry to be out of touch. The internet access in the bush is so spotty these days.
We are back from the 3rd and final safari excursion and now giving Grandma and Bea a chance to rest here in Johannesburg before we make the long trek back. Grandma and Bea were amazing once again. I hope I have their spirit when I reach 85 and 88. Amazing. Between the two of them, they sat out only a handful of game drives over the course of the trip. Unreal. 5:30 am wakeup calls to be on a bouncy truck for two 3+ hour games drives each day...and they thrived!
And it's easy to understand what energized them when you consider some of the sightings we've had. Here are a few quick highlights.
From Phinda Forrest
* 6 Cheetah munching on a dyker (a small antelope). They were each taking their turn, when two lifted their redened faces from the kill - they heard the growl of a leopard nearby. The leopard has a physical edge on the cheetah, so they forfeited the rest of the kill and walked away into the brush - all 6 - in single file. The leopard somehow alluded us that night. We would hear it, then turn towards it...and then we'd her it behind us. We'd back up and move to the left and it would sound off to our right. It simply didn't want to pose for pics, not many leopards do. They're solitary and hunt at night, so they are very difficult to find. They are the rarest (and in my opinion greatest) of sightings.
* A momma elephant that squared off with our Land Rover and gave us a little mock charge while her young crossed the road behind her. It sat there staring at us, and when the rest of the elephants had crossed she casually walked into the bush along with them, knocking down tree branches as they went. "They're not delicate creatures," said Tree.
* An epic scene at a watering hole during one of our evening drives. 10 or so hippos sounding off to our right. Geese honking and duck quacking overhead. A male lion with a HUGE head was purring to our left. Directly in front, a lioness tended to 3 cubs, one of which got to close to a croc on the bank. The Lioness gave the croc a staredown, but that was that. That croc retreated a few steps - no harm done.
From Ngala, near Krueger national park...
* Two leopard sightings in daylight. Amazing. The first was feeding on a grey dyker. We have picks and video of the cat going to town like matty and me at the all you can eat pizza buffett. The second leopard sighting featured mom and cub, and the cub was about the coolest animal ever. looked like kitty cat, only it would bite your hand off. They took turns taking bites from a buffalo that had fallen sick and weak and then died the previous evening. At one point the cub stood on top of the fallen buffalo like it was a conquering hero despite the fact that it was a small fraction of the buff's size.
* A breeding herd of elephant - 35 to 40 in all - walking accross a plane and then crossing a dried out riverbank in single file. i haven't seen an elephant walk like that since my fraternity pledging days. We met up with them at a watering hole, as all animals circled the hole and slurped down water. Also saw a breeding herd of buffal whose numbers were well over 100. We drove to see the 4-5 that we saw from the road, and quickly realized that we were surrounded by them. We were safe, though I'll admit some concern when something we did in the truck spooked one, which caused him to stammer off. This prompted a few others to stammer off, but a stampede was avoided. I was ready to take off my fleece and play matador, but thankfully that humiliating means of dying was averted.
* A baby elephant gave us a mock charge - a few clumsy steps - a kick of dust - waving of the trunk. It was clearly a maneuver learned from his mother, but it was more endearing than intimidating. Since the charge was ineffective, it retreated a few steps and then tried again. Our truck still didn't budge, so the young elephant hung its head and strolled back into the brush to a chorus of adoring "Ahhhhhh"'s from tree, carol, bea and grandma who wanted to run up to it and pinch its cute little cheeks.
And last, but definately not least...from this mornings drive, our last of the trip...
We were taking photo's of 4 cheetah that were lounging like your every day house cats. They were rolling and scratching and licking and I was drawing comparisons between these harmless cats and Garfield. They got spooked by the territorial call of a lion, and began walking away. We started driving to see the Lion, when we saw one of the Cheetah make a break behind us. The other three followed. The opportunistic hunters had found a young dyker that was grazing solo. The cheetahs were behind us and to my right, we could barely see their sprint through the bush. Next thing you know, we see them chasing behind us to the left. All 6 of us were looking in all directions, we could hear the struggle but couldn't see where it came from. Then the noise intensified to my right, and maybe 20 yards away the dyker emerged from the brush with the cheetahs in hot pursuit. The lead cheetah clawed the dyker and disrupted its balance. Once grounded, it let out a wail as the other three cheetah systematically restrained the dykers legs, neck, and snout. Their was not much of a struggle, the cheetahs were efficient. We watched them as they took turns eating - munching dyker for breakfast - one of the three always on the lookout for the lions that had spooked them earlier. They took turns eating in a surprising display of civility.
While I was repeatedly uttering the phrase "HOLY LIVING SHIT!", Bea was diverting her eyes. I checked on her moments later at our bush stop and she she confided that it was harsh to see - "but its OK. its life". It was unbelievable to everyone. The transformation from beautiful cats to hunters was instantaneous. Amazing. Grandma was wide eyed "OH WOW!" was her comment.
Now that we're at a hotel with internet service, I should be able to get some pics up shortly. Stay tuned for pics and highlights and stories from the game drives.
We are back from the 3rd and final safari excursion and now giving Grandma and Bea a chance to rest here in Johannesburg before we make the long trek back. Grandma and Bea were amazing once again. I hope I have their spirit when I reach 85 and 88. Amazing. Between the two of them, they sat out only a handful of game drives over the course of the trip. Unreal. 5:30 am wakeup calls to be on a bouncy truck for two 3+ hour games drives each day...and they thrived!
And it's easy to understand what energized them when you consider some of the sightings we've had. Here are a few quick highlights.
From Phinda Forrest
* 6 Cheetah munching on a dyker (a small antelope). They were each taking their turn, when two lifted their redened faces from the kill - they heard the growl of a leopard nearby. The leopard has a physical edge on the cheetah, so they forfeited the rest of the kill and walked away into the brush - all 6 - in single file. The leopard somehow alluded us that night. We would hear it, then turn towards it...and then we'd her it behind us. We'd back up and move to the left and it would sound off to our right. It simply didn't want to pose for pics, not many leopards do. They're solitary and hunt at night, so they are very difficult to find. They are the rarest (and in my opinion greatest) of sightings.
* A momma elephant that squared off with our Land Rover and gave us a little mock charge while her young crossed the road behind her. It sat there staring at us, and when the rest of the elephants had crossed she casually walked into the bush along with them, knocking down tree branches as they went. "They're not delicate creatures," said Tree.
* An epic scene at a watering hole during one of our evening drives. 10 or so hippos sounding off to our right. Geese honking and duck quacking overhead. A male lion with a HUGE head was purring to our left. Directly in front, a lioness tended to 3 cubs, one of which got to close to a croc on the bank. The Lioness gave the croc a staredown, but that was that. That croc retreated a few steps - no harm done.
From Ngala, near Krueger national park...
* Two leopard sightings in daylight. Amazing. The first was feeding on a grey dyker. We have picks and video of the cat going to town like matty and me at the all you can eat pizza buffett. The second leopard sighting featured mom and cub, and the cub was about the coolest animal ever. looked like kitty cat, only it would bite your hand off. They took turns taking bites from a buffalo that had fallen sick and weak and then died the previous evening. At one point the cub stood on top of the fallen buffalo like it was a conquering hero despite the fact that it was a small fraction of the buff's size.
* A breeding herd of elephant - 35 to 40 in all - walking accross a plane and then crossing a dried out riverbank in single file. i haven't seen an elephant walk like that since my fraternity pledging days. We met up with them at a watering hole, as all animals circled the hole and slurped down water. Also saw a breeding herd of buffal whose numbers were well over 100. We drove to see the 4-5 that we saw from the road, and quickly realized that we were surrounded by them. We were safe, though I'll admit some concern when something we did in the truck spooked one, which caused him to stammer off. This prompted a few others to stammer off, but a stampede was avoided. I was ready to take off my fleece and play matador, but thankfully that humiliating means of dying was averted.
* A baby elephant gave us a mock charge - a few clumsy steps - a kick of dust - waving of the trunk. It was clearly a maneuver learned from his mother, but it was more endearing than intimidating. Since the charge was ineffective, it retreated a few steps and then tried again. Our truck still didn't budge, so the young elephant hung its head and strolled back into the brush to a chorus of adoring "Ahhhhhh"'s from tree, carol, bea and grandma who wanted to run up to it and pinch its cute little cheeks.
And last, but definately not least...from this mornings drive, our last of the trip...
We were taking photo's of 4 cheetah that were lounging like your every day house cats. They were rolling and scratching and licking and I was drawing comparisons between these harmless cats and Garfield. They got spooked by the territorial call of a lion, and began walking away. We started driving to see the Lion, when we saw one of the Cheetah make a break behind us. The other three followed. The opportunistic hunters had found a young dyker that was grazing solo. The cheetahs were behind us and to my right, we could barely see their sprint through the bush. Next thing you know, we see them chasing behind us to the left. All 6 of us were looking in all directions, we could hear the struggle but couldn't see where it came from. Then the noise intensified to my right, and maybe 20 yards away the dyker emerged from the brush with the cheetahs in hot pursuit. The lead cheetah clawed the dyker and disrupted its balance. Once grounded, it let out a wail as the other three cheetah systematically restrained the dykers legs, neck, and snout. Their was not much of a struggle, the cheetahs were efficient. We watched them as they took turns eating - munching dyker for breakfast - one of the three always on the lookout for the lions that had spooked them earlier. They took turns eating in a surprising display of civility.
While I was repeatedly uttering the phrase "HOLY LIVING SHIT!", Bea was diverting her eyes. I checked on her moments later at our bush stop and she she confided that it was harsh to see - "but its OK. its life". It was unbelievable to everyone. The transformation from beautiful cats to hunters was instantaneous. Amazing. Grandma was wide eyed "OH WOW!" was her comment.
Now that we're at a hotel with internet service, I should be able to get some pics up shortly. Stay tuned for pics and highlights and stories from the game drives.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Bea Copeland: That Girl Is Posion
It's true, Bea earned the nickname "USHEEVU", which is Zulu for "Poisonous". Why? Her taste for Coco and Amarula Cream at 9:30 in the morning at our coffee stop in the middle of the bush. Is that a lion roaring in the distance? Bea doesn't mind! She's got some booze to cool her nerves! Breakfast is served? How about topping off that orange juice with a little champagne? That's how Bea kicks it at Phinda Forrest, and our guide had a tremendous amount of fun with her. He always asked bea if she walked a little "poison" with her cocoa or soft drink, his word for alcohol. He even offered to take her back to her room in a wheel barrow if she had too much to drink at dinner, to which Bea responded "I would expect a gold guilded carriage, thank you very much."
Other nicknames and highlights from our stay in KwaZulu Natal...
Grandma..."GANEELE GOGO"...or "One Tough Grandma"...The long travel days have caused some aches and pains. We've consulted doctors and nurses, who gave her the green light to play with pain, and play she did. She wills herself to the vehicle, walked lengthy stretches over sandy and uneven terrain. She carries a cane, but doesn't always use it - sometimes it doesn't hit the ground. Its a sign of excitement that we only see during the christmas shopping season. She is comfortable inside the vehicle and enjoys taking in the wildlife one animal at a time. While the rest of us are snapping pics and rolling video to preserve the moment for eternity, Grandma takes it all in moment by moment. So while I watch the wild life through the lense of a camera, she takes it in fully and gloriously. And that seems to make the pain subside.
Tree..."ENTIBAN ABUNFU"...or "Red HEaded Warthog"...Only I could get away with calling my wife this and still have her think its cute and endearing! This nickname comes from the red-tinged warthogs that tree said were "so ugly, they are cute". I am happy to say that tree bears no physical resemblance to the hogs, other than the color of her hair.
(and with that, I may have pushed my luck. Expect another dispatch from the doghouse shortly...)
Other nicknames and highlights from our stay in KwaZulu Natal...
Grandma..."GANEELE GOGO"...or "One Tough Grandma"...The long travel days have caused some aches and pains. We've consulted doctors and nurses, who gave her the green light to play with pain, and play she did. She wills herself to the vehicle, walked lengthy stretches over sandy and uneven terrain. She carries a cane, but doesn't always use it - sometimes it doesn't hit the ground. Its a sign of excitement that we only see during the christmas shopping season. She is comfortable inside the vehicle and enjoys taking in the wildlife one animal at a time. While the rest of us are snapping pics and rolling video to preserve the moment for eternity, Grandma takes it all in moment by moment. So while I watch the wild life through the lense of a camera, she takes it in fully and gloriously. And that seems to make the pain subside.
Tree..."ENTIBAN ABUNFU"...or "Red HEaded Warthog"...Only I could get away with calling my wife this and still have her think its cute and endearing! This nickname comes from the red-tinged warthogs that tree said were "so ugly, they are cute". I am happy to say that tree bears no physical resemblance to the hogs, other than the color of her hair.
(and with that, I may have pushed my luck. Expect another dispatch from the doghouse shortly...)
The 1st Most Contagious Affliction in the Bush
The stomach virus that affected Tony and Carol was contagious, but not nearly as contagious as what has become known as Giggilous Maximus...or The Giggle Fit.
The root cause of the giggle fit is typically a coca-cola or glass of wine. A cup of hot coco also does the trick, and the effects of the giggle fit seem to be heightened when the coco is combined with some the african equivalent of bailey's cream (called amarula cream, which is made from the fruit of the native amarula tree).
The giggle fit most frequently manifests itself in carol first, typically following the combination of sugar and alcohol. It is always initiated with a light hearted exchange, such as this one from yesterday's drive:
Carol: "I think I'm going to call that giraffe 'Cuddly'"
Bea: "How cute. Is that because you want to cuddle it?"
Carol: "No, its because of the way it chews its cud."
This prompts a giggle from bea, which is met in kind with a chuckle from Carol. The chuckle is then matched by a chortle from Tony. By this point, grandma has picked up on the good times, and though she wasn't able to hear the joke, the site of three people laughing is more than enouh reason to laugh herself. The site of grandma laughing is extremely contagious, because no one enjoys a laugh more and it compels others to join in. By this point Tree gets a little snicker in, and before you know it I am in the midst of a full-on belly laugh. Our guides of African dissent had an immunity to the giggle fit, but that is fading fast. Our guide at Phida would elevate the affliction with his high pitched "hehehe" cackle while our tracker Toks let out a baritone "hahaha". The laughs would subside for a moment...and then a reoccurence would hit us like an aftershock as soon as someone repeated the line that kicked the fit off in the first place. I could initiate a giggle fit right now simply by wispering the hyper senstive word of "cud" right now. I dare not due it, for fear that the affliction would catch on to the rest of the camp.
The root cause of the giggle fit is typically a coca-cola or glass of wine. A cup of hot coco also does the trick, and the effects of the giggle fit seem to be heightened when the coco is combined with some the african equivalent of bailey's cream (called amarula cream, which is made from the fruit of the native amarula tree).
The giggle fit most frequently manifests itself in carol first, typically following the combination of sugar and alcohol. It is always initiated with a light hearted exchange, such as this one from yesterday's drive:
Carol: "I think I'm going to call that giraffe 'Cuddly'"
Bea: "How cute. Is that because you want to cuddle it?"
Carol: "No, its because of the way it chews its cud."
This prompts a giggle from bea, which is met in kind with a chuckle from Carol. The chuckle is then matched by a chortle from Tony. By this point, grandma has picked up on the good times, and though she wasn't able to hear the joke, the site of three people laughing is more than enouh reason to laugh herself. The site of grandma laughing is extremely contagious, because no one enjoys a laugh more and it compels others to join in. By this point Tree gets a little snicker in, and before you know it I am in the midst of a full-on belly laugh. Our guides of African dissent had an immunity to the giggle fit, but that is fading fast. Our guide at Phida would elevate the affliction with his high pitched "hehehe" cackle while our tracker Toks let out a baritone "hahaha". The laughs would subside for a moment...and then a reoccurence would hit us like an aftershock as soon as someone repeated the line that kicked the fit off in the first place. I could initiate a giggle fit right now simply by wispering the hyper senstive word of "cud" right now. I dare not due it, for fear that the affliction would catch on to the rest of the camp.
Love in the time of Dysentery
A quick update on how Tony and Carol earned the Zulu nickname "MAFAVUKA"...
On our last night in Zim, Tony left dinner early with some stomach problems. By the time we had reached the room Tony was feeling faint and in the process of plunging head first into the wall as he exited the rest room. We peeled him off the floor and got him to bed. After losing about 5 pounds of water weight during the night after an impressive display of projectile vomitting, Tony felt better but weakened. He insisted that he get on the plane with us to South Africa, so we put him in a wheelchair along with Grandma and Bea and wheeled him onto the plane. He may not have been pleased about the wheelchair, but let me assure you, John Wayne has nothing on Tony when it comes to toughness. He was feeling better after 24 hours and eating like his old self within 36.
Shortly after arriving in Phinda forrest for the second leg of our Safari, Carol got the affliction. Despite the intense level of gastro-intestinal distress, she still managed to fold her sick bags neatly and sealed them with a smiley face sticker and ribbon before the cleaning crew stopped by to pick it up. OK, that may not be true, but you know Carol would have done that if she had stickers, glitter, and ribbon at her disposal. No way a little stomach virus is going to get Carol down!
After 24 hours, she was weakened but back in action. We took her into town where we took a tour that featured a visit to a "Sangoma", which is a traditional healer in the Zulu culture. We went into her hut, she got some insence blazing, and she began channelling some ancestors through a series of dance steps and drum beats - imagine james brown at the appollo, only in a smokey hut with a much more forgiving crowd. So the healer/medicine woman/priestess/pharmacist/psychic did her thing, and Carol said "You know what? I Feel better!" And she did. She was laughing and yuckin' it up with the rest of us by the end of the night. The affliction had passed! We celebrated with a thanksgiving feast featuring dry toast and Sprite.
And this is how Tony and Carol earned the Zulu nickname "MAFAVUKA", or in English..."BACK FROM THE DEAD". Proof once again that the couple that "sprays" together, stays together.
On our last night in Zim, Tony left dinner early with some stomach problems. By the time we had reached the room Tony was feeling faint and in the process of plunging head first into the wall as he exited the rest room. We peeled him off the floor and got him to bed. After losing about 5 pounds of water weight during the night after an impressive display of projectile vomitting, Tony felt better but weakened. He insisted that he get on the plane with us to South Africa, so we put him in a wheelchair along with Grandma and Bea and wheeled him onto the plane. He may not have been pleased about the wheelchair, but let me assure you, John Wayne has nothing on Tony when it comes to toughness. He was feeling better after 24 hours and eating like his old self within 36.
Shortly after arriving in Phinda forrest for the second leg of our Safari, Carol got the affliction. Despite the intense level of gastro-intestinal distress, she still managed to fold her sick bags neatly and sealed them with a smiley face sticker and ribbon before the cleaning crew stopped by to pick it up. OK, that may not be true, but you know Carol would have done that if she had stickers, glitter, and ribbon at her disposal. No way a little stomach virus is going to get Carol down!
After 24 hours, she was weakened but back in action. We took her into town where we took a tour that featured a visit to a "Sangoma", which is a traditional healer in the Zulu culture. We went into her hut, she got some insence blazing, and she began channelling some ancestors through a series of dance steps and drum beats - imagine james brown at the appollo, only in a smokey hut with a much more forgiving crowd. So the healer/medicine woman/priestess/pharmacist/psychic did her thing, and Carol said "You know what? I Feel better!" And she did. She was laughing and yuckin' it up with the rest of us by the end of the night. The affliction had passed! We celebrated with a thanksgiving feast featuring dry toast and Sprite.
And this is how Tony and Carol earned the Zulu nickname "MAFAVUKA", or in English..."BACK FROM THE DEAD". Proof once again that the couple that "sprays" together, stays together.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Making it Rain in Zimbabwe
A very very very quick recap of our trip to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. The falls are beautiful. Although my writing talent may be good for a laugh here and there, it falls well short of being able to capture what we saw so I won't even try. At one point the mist from the falls feels likje a full-on down pour. In others places peaceful and serene. In some places powerful and violent. I will attempt to get some pics so that you can see the endless falls and countless rainbows in a scene so spectatularly beautiful that i told be that the next time we visit I'll bet St Peter is our guide.
As for Zim, you have probably gotten an impression of the country's political situation from my previous posts. Its ugly. An aging and increasingly dillusional dictator has shaken the outside world's confidence in the country, which plunged it into economic turmoil. I got a feel for the hyper inflationary economy first hand when I exchanged a single US dollar for ten billion four hundred and ninety four million and several thousand more Zimbabwean dollars. No joke. Tony and I went to a grocery store, and the shelves were practically empty...and this in a nation with fertile soil that once made it known as Africa's breadbasket. A box of serial costs $60 billion Zim dollars.
So yeah, I am a billionaire in Zimbabwe, but its not a laughing matter really. The currency is essentially worthless, so they can't import anything. All trading is done in foreign currencies or on the black market. Zimbabweans go accross the borders of neighboring countries to resell or trade back home, which has ratched up the deman & costs in those countries as a result. Think your gas prices are bad? Try $18 USD per liter in Zambia, which is blamed on the Zim situation. As you might expect, xenophobic violence is an unfortunate consequence of the situation. Its like the movie Gangs of New York, only real...and just as violent.
The desperation of the Zim situation hit home when we went to mass last Sunday. Along with members of the Catholic Women's Group, who wore shirts reading "Better Fields, Better Homes, Better Lives", we sang the classic hymm "The Lord Hears The Cry of the Poor"", which takes on an entirely new meaning and feeling in this setting.
So how do we handle all of this desperation? Time to go back to the 5 star hotel for some serious pampering!
The Victoria Falls Hotel is a colonial British masterpiece with first class service and amenities o'plenty. We attended high tea daily. What better way to wash the away the painful image of poverty than with some tea and crumpets?
After visiting the market, Tree exploited the economic situation to her advantage and scored some beautiful hand carved crucifixes at a discount price. That tree drives a hard bargain! She would have made my fellow MBA classmates proud!
Meanwhile, I got some stone carvings in exchange for a pair of socks. Absolutely true. Just peeled my socks off and handed them over like currency. Think about that. A sweaty pair of gym socks has more value in the market than the local currency. Why? The artist named Everton who made the trade explained that he had been wearing the same pair since the economic woes picked up and importing new clothes became difficult. Armed with this knowledge, I traded my squeaky brown dress shoes for a wood carving and a few Wisconsin Badger T-Shirts for a stone soap tray. This exploitation thing ain't so hard after all!
I felt a bit bad about doing that, but that feeling quickly subsided after I joined Grandma and Bea at the Hotel's beauty salon. Yep, grandma and Bea were all done up in curlers and the big helmet like hair dryers while I was right there with them getting a trim and a shave. Its the best haircut east of Brookfield, WI. Tree also felt bad about driving the hard bargain on the crucifixes of all things, but those thoughts were gone by the time of her pedicure.
(If you are picking up on the tension by this point, good for you because I am laying it on pretty thick!)
We all at one point or another struggled with the tension - the disparity between our lives and the people we offered our socks and pocket change to. Better that we immerse ourselves in that tension and feel the discomfort even if only temporarily rather than to ignore it alltogether.
I talked with Dulesi, our tour guide, about the tension and the limits of charity, and how pumping my tax rebate check into the Zim economy helps only so much (probably not what the house and Senate had in mind, oops). Delusi simply asked that we remember the people here - Everton the sock trader - the girls in the Women's group at church - the porters and waitresses and haridressers. If I can manage to remember those people, perhaps I'll also remember to reconcile my own interests with theirs when it comes time to make a business decision, an investment decision, cast a vote, volunteer, etc.
(Dulesi means peacemaker by the way.)
More updates to follow...
As for Zim, you have probably gotten an impression of the country's political situation from my previous posts. Its ugly. An aging and increasingly dillusional dictator has shaken the outside world's confidence in the country, which plunged it into economic turmoil. I got a feel for the hyper inflationary economy first hand when I exchanged a single US dollar for ten billion four hundred and ninety four million and several thousand more Zimbabwean dollars. No joke. Tony and I went to a grocery store, and the shelves were practically empty...and this in a nation with fertile soil that once made it known as Africa's breadbasket. A box of serial costs $60 billion Zim dollars.
So yeah, I am a billionaire in Zimbabwe, but its not a laughing matter really. The currency is essentially worthless, so they can't import anything. All trading is done in foreign currencies or on the black market. Zimbabweans go accross the borders of neighboring countries to resell or trade back home, which has ratched up the deman & costs in those countries as a result. Think your gas prices are bad? Try $18 USD per liter in Zambia, which is blamed on the Zim situation. As you might expect, xenophobic violence is an unfortunate consequence of the situation. Its like the movie Gangs of New York, only real...and just as violent.
The desperation of the Zim situation hit home when we went to mass last Sunday. Along with members of the Catholic Women's Group, who wore shirts reading "Better Fields, Better Homes, Better Lives", we sang the classic hymm "The Lord Hears The Cry of the Poor"", which takes on an entirely new meaning and feeling in this setting.
So how do we handle all of this desperation? Time to go back to the 5 star hotel for some serious pampering!
The Victoria Falls Hotel is a colonial British masterpiece with first class service and amenities o'plenty. We attended high tea daily. What better way to wash the away the painful image of poverty than with some tea and crumpets?
After visiting the market, Tree exploited the economic situation to her advantage and scored some beautiful hand carved crucifixes at a discount price. That tree drives a hard bargain! She would have made my fellow MBA classmates proud!
Meanwhile, I got some stone carvings in exchange for a pair of socks. Absolutely true. Just peeled my socks off and handed them over like currency. Think about that. A sweaty pair of gym socks has more value in the market than the local currency. Why? The artist named Everton who made the trade explained that he had been wearing the same pair since the economic woes picked up and importing new clothes became difficult. Armed with this knowledge, I traded my squeaky brown dress shoes for a wood carving and a few Wisconsin Badger T-Shirts for a stone soap tray. This exploitation thing ain't so hard after all!
I felt a bit bad about doing that, but that feeling quickly subsided after I joined Grandma and Bea at the Hotel's beauty salon. Yep, grandma and Bea were all done up in curlers and the big helmet like hair dryers while I was right there with them getting a trim and a shave. Its the best haircut east of Brookfield, WI. Tree also felt bad about driving the hard bargain on the crucifixes of all things, but those thoughts were gone by the time of her pedicure.
(If you are picking up on the tension by this point, good for you because I am laying it on pretty thick!)
We all at one point or another struggled with the tension - the disparity between our lives and the people we offered our socks and pocket change to. Better that we immerse ourselves in that tension and feel the discomfort even if only temporarily rather than to ignore it alltogether.
I talked with Dulesi, our tour guide, about the tension and the limits of charity, and how pumping my tax rebate check into the Zim economy helps only so much (probably not what the house and Senate had in mind, oops). Delusi simply asked that we remember the people here - Everton the sock trader - the girls in the Women's group at church - the porters and waitresses and haridressers. If I can manage to remember those people, perhaps I'll also remember to reconcile my own interests with theirs when it comes time to make a business decision, an investment decision, cast a vote, volunteer, etc.
(Dulesi means peacemaker by the way.)
More updates to follow...
A Palm Greaser's Guide to Africa
Your Mission if you choose to accept it: Get two senior citizens accross the borders of three african countries in a single day without losing a single bag or suffering a single nervous breakdown.
That's what we did when we left Dar Es Salaam for Victoria Falls. We went from Tanzania to South Africa to Zimbabwe through a series of connecting flights. Tony was the brains behind the operation. He deftly navigated the airport, which was made easier by well placed dollar bills in the hands of porters and wheel chair handlers. Tony knew that the only living creatures in the world that are universally loved as much as grandmas are perhaps kittens. So Grandma and Bea would put the sweet stuff on the airport help while Tony made sure they knew there was something else in it for them. As a result - no bags lost, no heart attacks, no hold ups in customs or security. Not a single jar of cold cream or can of hairspray was comandeered. We breezed through the airports fairly quickly, and even got a free upgrade to first class on our 2 hour flight from Zimbabwe to Johannesburg. So by my estimation, Grandma and Bea's cuteness is worth several hundred if not thousands of dollars. Amidst all the hustle, Tony confided in Theresa and I saying "Ï Love this!" So did the porters and handlers, since they occasionally got the triple dip, when Tree and I tipped on the back end after Tony had already tipped on the front end.
If Tony was the brains behind the operation, I was the braun. At one point I had a backpack on my back and one accross each shoulder. Also had two bags in my hands and a camera bag around my neck for a total of 6 bags. to make the sight even more ridiculous, my pants were sagging because I didn't have enough time to get my belt on after a security check, so i just jammed it in my pocket and showed off my new leopard print boxers to my fellow travellers.
Tree and Carol were the spirit behind the operation. since their hands were relatively free, they could make sure grandma and bea were cared for and stayed with the group. there was a brief moment in Arusha where grandma was almost rolled onto a cargo plane headed for Samalia, but Tree and Carol prevented such mishaps.
So to those of you wondering how and the heck we are getting from point A to point B with several stops in between, the answer is threefold:
(1) Travel with a grandma, (2) be cute, and (3) have someone jamming a $5-spot into the hands of your help to grease the tracks.
That's what we did when we left Dar Es Salaam for Victoria Falls. We went from Tanzania to South Africa to Zimbabwe through a series of connecting flights. Tony was the brains behind the operation. He deftly navigated the airport, which was made easier by well placed dollar bills in the hands of porters and wheel chair handlers. Tony knew that the only living creatures in the world that are universally loved as much as grandmas are perhaps kittens. So Grandma and Bea would put the sweet stuff on the airport help while Tony made sure they knew there was something else in it for them. As a result - no bags lost, no heart attacks, no hold ups in customs or security. Not a single jar of cold cream or can of hairspray was comandeered. We breezed through the airports fairly quickly, and even got a free upgrade to first class on our 2 hour flight from Zimbabwe to Johannesburg. So by my estimation, Grandma and Bea's cuteness is worth several hundred if not thousands of dollars. Amidst all the hustle, Tony confided in Theresa and I saying "Ï Love this!" So did the porters and handlers, since they occasionally got the triple dip, when Tree and I tipped on the back end after Tony had already tipped on the front end.
If Tony was the brains behind the operation, I was the braun. At one point I had a backpack on my back and one accross each shoulder. Also had two bags in my hands and a camera bag around my neck for a total of 6 bags. to make the sight even more ridiculous, my pants were sagging because I didn't have enough time to get my belt on after a security check, so i just jammed it in my pocket and showed off my new leopard print boxers to my fellow travellers.
Tree and Carol were the spirit behind the operation. since their hands were relatively free, they could make sure grandma and bea were cared for and stayed with the group. there was a brief moment in Arusha where grandma was almost rolled onto a cargo plane headed for Samalia, but Tree and Carol prevented such mishaps.
So to those of you wondering how and the heck we are getting from point A to point B with several stops in between, the answer is threefold:
(1) Travel with a grandma, (2) be cute, and (3) have someone jamming a $5-spot into the hands of your help to grease the tracks.
GoGo Girls of the Zulu Nation
This Independence Day edition of the Daily Dispatch comes from Phinda forest in the Kwa Zulu Natal province of South Africa. Turns out the Zulu word for Grandma is "GoGo", and you can imagine the fun we are having calling Grandma and Bea GoGo Girls. We've saw a baby rhino with mother this morning, and a baby giraffe trying to keep up with mom and dad. I had a cocktail with breakfast at 9:30 and Bea said "Ï am glad to see you're boozing it up. I may join you!" And she did. Does it still count as peer pressure if I am 33 and she is 85?
Only a few minutes on the computer left, so as promised...the Swahili nicknames bestowed upon us while staying in the Seregenti.
Carol...MWIBA TAKONI...in English..."Thorn in the Backside"...While taking a pit stop in the bush,Carol learned the hard way that it is necessary to check for thorns first. Tony played the role of surgeon and Carol is once again sitting upright and pain free.
Tony, our able leader...MUNGU MFALME WA MBUNGO...In English..."Lord of the Tse-Tse Flies"...The most fearsome predator in the Serengeti has no fear of humans and its bloodlust is insatiable. It is too quick to be photographed and you become aware of its preseence only after its bitten you. The name of this beast? The Tse Tse Fly (aka the Teetsy). We were constantly under bombardment from these fearsome pests. Thankfully, only 2 of the 6 breeds carry disease. I didn't ask if the flys in our area were either of the 2, because I didn't want to know the answer.
Bea...MALIKA WA SIMBA...in English...The Lion Queen...As mentioned before, Bea is a lover of animals - a modern day St. Francis. When we saw two cheetahs hunting a baby wildebeest, Bea started praying for the young animal and sure enough it was spared. Boy was I pissed. I wanted to see some blood, but there goes Bea again with her direct line to St. Francis.
Grandma...MAMA CUBWA...In English...Big Mamma...We asked for "mother of all mothers", since she's the elder statesman of the Three generations present on this trip, but Big Mamma translated better (and quite frankly, its a bit funnier especially if you know grandma).
Myself...PAPALAZI...In English...He Who Talks Out Ass...kidding of course. It translates to "Scribe"" or "Writer". It sounds a bit like paparazzi, which is appropriate given the way I have been tracking and snapping shots of animals as if they were celebs.
It goes without saying that Grandma and Bea take the Serengeti Spirit award. The Elements - rough accomodations - difficult terrain - long travel days - they were no match for these two. Theresa finishes a close second for her acts of love for her grandma, which included jumping into the ol'sunshower for some scrub-a-dub time with grandma in the bush. From Tree's standpoint, it was just returning some of the favors grandma did for her when grandma took care of her as a little girl.
Stay tuned for more updates, including a Zimbabwe recap.
Only a few minutes on the computer left, so as promised...the Swahili nicknames bestowed upon us while staying in the Seregenti.
Carol...MWIBA TAKONI...in English..."Thorn in the Backside"...While taking a pit stop in the bush,Carol learned the hard way that it is necessary to check for thorns first. Tony played the role of surgeon and Carol is once again sitting upright and pain free.
Tony, our able leader...MUNGU MFALME WA MBUNGO...In English..."Lord of the Tse-Tse Flies"...The most fearsome predator in the Serengeti has no fear of humans and its bloodlust is insatiable. It is too quick to be photographed and you become aware of its preseence only after its bitten you. The name of this beast? The Tse Tse Fly (aka the Teetsy). We were constantly under bombardment from these fearsome pests. Thankfully, only 2 of the 6 breeds carry disease. I didn't ask if the flys in our area were either of the 2, because I didn't want to know the answer.
Bea...MALIKA WA SIMBA...in English...The Lion Queen...As mentioned before, Bea is a lover of animals - a modern day St. Francis. When we saw two cheetahs hunting a baby wildebeest, Bea started praying for the young animal and sure enough it was spared. Boy was I pissed. I wanted to see some blood, but there goes Bea again with her direct line to St. Francis.
Grandma...MAMA CUBWA...In English...Big Mamma...We asked for "mother of all mothers", since she's the elder statesman of the Three generations present on this trip, but Big Mamma translated better (and quite frankly, its a bit funnier especially if you know grandma).
Myself...PAPALAZI...In English...He Who Talks Out Ass...kidding of course. It translates to "Scribe"" or "Writer". It sounds a bit like paparazzi, which is appropriate given the way I have been tracking and snapping shots of animals as if they were celebs.
It goes without saying that Grandma and Bea take the Serengeti Spirit award. The Elements - rough accomodations - difficult terrain - long travel days - they were no match for these two. Theresa finishes a close second for her acts of love for her grandma, which included jumping into the ol'sunshower for some scrub-a-dub time with grandma in the bush. From Tree's standpoint, it was just returning some of the favors grandma did for her when grandma took care of her as a little girl.
Stay tuned for more updates, including a Zimbabwe recap.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
A Plush Terry Cloth Death Trap
Some Serengeti dispatches to catch up on including Tree’s induction to the Rodent Killaz Posse…
As some of you may know, I earned my way into the Whitefish Bay Chapter of the Fraternal Order of Rodent Killaz last winter by taking out a squirrel using only a kitchen knife, a broom handle, some duct tape, and my cunning. My makeshift bayonet is the stuff of legend in North Milwaukee, and rest assured, we’ve had no intruders since. After this right of passage I can now associate as equals with the likes Eric the Woodchuck Chucker and Franco the Squirrelinator. Tree was always on the outside looking in; however, she has now gained full-fledged membership to this exclusive social set and all the membership benefits thereof. Allow me to share with you the harrowing tale, but let me forewarn you - this recollection is not for the faint of heart or spirit. Not since the Brady Bunch vacation to Hawaii has there been such a bone-chilling tale of horror combined with alternating feats of cowardice and courage.
The legend began on our next to last night in the Serengeti as Theresa was helping her grandma wash up for bed in their tent. As Tree pulled the towel from the towel rack, she felt as thought something were clinging to it. As she shook out the towel, a turantula about the size of Tree’s hand landed on the floor in front of them. Grandma spotted the hairy beast first, and exclaimed “OH! OH! OH!” Theresa responded in kind with a shriek audible only to select members of the wild kingdom with super sonic hearing. As grandma exclaimed “KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT!” Theresa composed herself as she realized that her alternatives were limited to (a) killing it herself, because grandma and Bea sure as hell weren’t going to do it, or (b) waiting it out and hoping that the tenacious monster died of natural causes. Option (a) was really the only choice, but keep in mind that Tree usually calls on me to take care of common house spiders roughly 1/100,000th the size of this one.
Tree stared that turantula right in the eyes, all ten of them, and then took the towel and cast it over the 8 legged intruder like a net. It tried in vain to free itself, but it could not escape the plush Terry Cloth deathtrap made from the finest Egyptian cotton. She then heaved herself upon the gyrating mound of terror striking with the heal first. The force of 125 lbs of philosophical fury came down on that audacious arachnoid like the wrath of God. The sound of its crunching and oozing were drowned out by Theresa’s primal warrior cry. Dizzy from the rush of adreneline, she retreated to catch her breath.
Bea came in from the front of the tent to inspect the damage. Those of you who know Bea know that she is a modern day St. Francis. She’s a lover of all of God’s creation, including mythological-like beasts such as this one, which seemed intent on consuming grandma whole. Bea explained that the turantula is not poisonous, does not bite, and does not cause harm to humans. “Bah!” Theresa said. “It was going to bite my head off.” Bea tended to the deceased with a proper burial. She wrapped the corpse of Satan’s spawn in some lilac scented facial tissue and lowered it to the bottom of the trash can where it rested in peace, but I wouldn’t doubt it of the mummified mammal came back to haunt generations of campers for years to come. Tree expressed privately to me that had it been up to her, she would have taken the remains and cast it back into the hellfire from which it was forged.
And this is how Theresa was bestowed the nickname Munaji Wa BuiBui…or as they say in the Queen’s language…”KILLER OF TURANTULAS”
More nicknames and the Serengeti Spirit awards in the dispatches to follow.
As some of you may know, I earned my way into the Whitefish Bay Chapter of the Fraternal Order of Rodent Killaz last winter by taking out a squirrel using only a kitchen knife, a broom handle, some duct tape, and my cunning. My makeshift bayonet is the stuff of legend in North Milwaukee, and rest assured, we’ve had no intruders since. After this right of passage I can now associate as equals with the likes Eric the Woodchuck Chucker and Franco the Squirrelinator. Tree was always on the outside looking in; however, she has now gained full-fledged membership to this exclusive social set and all the membership benefits thereof. Allow me to share with you the harrowing tale, but let me forewarn you - this recollection is not for the faint of heart or spirit. Not since the Brady Bunch vacation to Hawaii has there been such a bone-chilling tale of horror combined with alternating feats of cowardice and courage.
The legend began on our next to last night in the Serengeti as Theresa was helping her grandma wash up for bed in their tent. As Tree pulled the towel from the towel rack, she felt as thought something were clinging to it. As she shook out the towel, a turantula about the size of Tree’s hand landed on the floor in front of them. Grandma spotted the hairy beast first, and exclaimed “OH! OH! OH!” Theresa responded in kind with a shriek audible only to select members of the wild kingdom with super sonic hearing. As grandma exclaimed “KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT!” Theresa composed herself as she realized that her alternatives were limited to (a) killing it herself, because grandma and Bea sure as hell weren’t going to do it, or (b) waiting it out and hoping that the tenacious monster died of natural causes. Option (a) was really the only choice, but keep in mind that Tree usually calls on me to take care of common house spiders roughly 1/100,000th the size of this one.
Tree stared that turantula right in the eyes, all ten of them, and then took the towel and cast it over the 8 legged intruder like a net. It tried in vain to free itself, but it could not escape the plush Terry Cloth deathtrap made from the finest Egyptian cotton. She then heaved herself upon the gyrating mound of terror striking with the heal first. The force of 125 lbs of philosophical fury came down on that audacious arachnoid like the wrath of God. The sound of its crunching and oozing were drowned out by Theresa’s primal warrior cry. Dizzy from the rush of adreneline, she retreated to catch her breath.
Bea came in from the front of the tent to inspect the damage. Those of you who know Bea know that she is a modern day St. Francis. She’s a lover of all of God’s creation, including mythological-like beasts such as this one, which seemed intent on consuming grandma whole. Bea explained that the turantula is not poisonous, does not bite, and does not cause harm to humans. “Bah!” Theresa said. “It was going to bite my head off.” Bea tended to the deceased with a proper burial. She wrapped the corpse of Satan’s spawn in some lilac scented facial tissue and lowered it to the bottom of the trash can where it rested in peace, but I wouldn’t doubt it of the mummified mammal came back to haunt generations of campers for years to come. Tree expressed privately to me that had it been up to her, she would have taken the remains and cast it back into the hellfire from which it was forged.
And this is how Theresa was bestowed the nickname Munaji Wa BuiBui…or as they say in the Queen’s language…”KILLER OF TURANTULAS”
More nicknames and the Serengeti Spirit awards in the dispatches to follow.
Pros & Cons of Touring a Country on the Brink of Collapse
All, sorry to be out of touch over the last few days while in Zimbabwe. As you may have heard about in the news, they had a run-off "election" right before we came. It wasn't much of an election really, since a vote for the opposition party earning you a beating if not a trip to jail or worse. Telephone connections to the US were shut off, and the internet service was down. Journalists were jailed, and despite the fact that this blog has no journalistic integrity what-so-ever, I didn't want to take any chances. Most of the mayhem was far far far from us --- and Thankfully the state controlled media kept all of the blood, guts, riots, and looting sufficiently suppressed so as not to ruin our good time.
If there is something good to be said about the nasty political situation here, its that there's some great vacation deals to be had! Sure people are suffering as the local economy spirals endlessly downward, but consider the bright side. When we asked for some connected rooms at the century old Victory Falls Hotel (and when they feared we might go elsewhere to find such rooms) they graciously offered us the presidential suite. In fact, this suite was the same suite that hosted Hillary and Chelsea Clinton on their visit to the falls several years ago.
Pop, insert joke in poor taste here:
(1) "Did you disinfect or fumagate it?"
(2) "Was the outhouse unavailable?"
(3) "Could you hear the echo of her shrill voice?"
More on Victoria Falls and our Zimbabwe experience in a bit. For the time being, I have about a weeks worth of nonsense on the brain related to our Serengeti trip which needs to be purged from my brain. Bear with me as I play catch up.
RT
If there is something good to be said about the nasty political situation here, its that there's some great vacation deals to be had! Sure people are suffering as the local economy spirals endlessly downward, but consider the bright side. When we asked for some connected rooms at the century old Victory Falls Hotel (and when they feared we might go elsewhere to find such rooms) they graciously offered us the presidential suite. In fact, this suite was the same suite that hosted Hillary and Chelsea Clinton on their visit to the falls several years ago.
Pop, insert joke in poor taste here:
(1) "Did you disinfect or fumagate it?"
(2) "Was the outhouse unavailable?"
(3) "Could you hear the echo of her shrill voice?"
More on Victoria Falls and our Zimbabwe experience in a bit. For the time being, I have about a weeks worth of nonsense on the brain related to our Serengeti trip which needs to be purged from my brain. Bear with me as I play catch up.
RT
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