Zimbabwe

After a week in South Africa, we make a side trip in July for some time at the majestic Victoria Falls. We’ll later return to South Africa for several more weeks of mountains, coastal drives, wine touring and bungy jumping. This is Zimbabwe, though, an utterly broken country. The abrasive, smelly, ugly oyster shell that contains a famous pearl called “thunder that roars” or Victoria Falls.

Yet, Marshall is immediately captivated by our surroundings. His seat in the front of the hotel van presents all of it to him: women carrying sacks on their heads, roadside baboons, a mule-drawn cart on the road’s shoulder, pot holes in the street, etc. Cars do operate on the road, but our driver tells us that the Vic Falls BP station is shuttered and it’s an hour’s drive to Botswana for petrol.

The Zimbabwean Dollar becomes substantially more worthless each day (the national bank has announced that it will trade one new Zim for every thousand old Zims soon after our visit). Bartering has become a significant form of commerce. Despite these structural challenges, we are here to see the magnificent falls “discovered” by the legendary Dr. Livingstone.

“Sir, Sir, look at this,” we hear in the unkempt bush land outside of the falls. Among freely roaming cape buffalo, warthogs, and elephants, we are shown a large wooden carving, a cape buffalo, that Marshall must have. He’s a good trader, but I observe and then become more involved. One T-shirt and US$8.00 later, it is his.

“And how many Zims will you give me for another dollar?” I ask. The man offers a Zim$100,000 note (well below the going rate of as much as Zim$400,000). He’s perplexed when I indicate my preference for the Zim$55,000 he’s holding in his hand, in the form of six notes. His thoughts are of numismatic value, while mine are of the mere souvenir value of six notes versus one. Both of us are pleased with the transaction, though as we part he’s unable to explain my satisfaction.

(Zimbabwe Photo Credits: Dot Griffifth)

South Africa

It's early July, 2007. Mark and AJ, our friends, guides and hosts, meet us at the Bloemfontein airport, in central South Africa. Two Toyota safari vehicles await us in the grocery store-sized parking lot, the way a pinstripe suit would stand out on a beach of swimsuits.

Nearly too much luggage, I note mentally, as I look to the year ahead. Those neck-pillow and blanket combos have to go--three extra items the size of hat boxes but with less substance than a marshmallow. Pure inefficiency, though their bearers claim I don’t understand.

Two and a half hours later we pull into Hunter’s Moon and are met by a pleasant staff expressing genuinely warm greetings. We’ve been to these 65,000 acres before, and I see that new structures are in place. A cottage with two units. A swimming pool (too deep, Mark bemoans, as the water rarely has chance to warm to anyone’s liking). And an open-air pavilion that provides shade for our welcoming drinks.

We’re on safari to have a memorable time. Three generations of Ohlhausens together at a place that delivers much of what we enjoy as a family: an active life in the outdoors, the chance to witness the vastness and beauty of nature, and, not ones to outsource food preparation to the cattleman, true engagement in life’s natural order as experienced through the ages.

In the morning, my parents and I set out with Mark. AJ heads up a less traditional shooting party: a diminutive mom in pursuit of a kudu, a young boy with warthog in his sights, and his little sister in the rear seat doing crossword puzzles. It all feels right, though.

Addendum: As a metaphor for our year, several of us leaped from a bridge over S.A.'s Gouritz River. Marshall and Katherine did the "bridge swing," while I did bungy.

India's Siren

As a pre-game warm-up to our upcoming year of travel, in June I took a too-brief, two-week trip to New Delhi to explore business opportunities in this rapidly expanding economy. I hadn't been there since visiting in 1993 with my wife. The development occuring there now is astounding. Entire skylines of new construction rise (in Delhi's neighbor, Gurguan, for example) to accommodate a growing middle class of office workers, to house their families, and to fulfill their wants and needs as consumers.



Nevertheless, a street-level stroll in Jaipur still reveals the wonders of India: an abundance of people laboring through daily life; an alarming mixture of sights, sounds and smells; and the traveler's realization that ours is a highly textured world.