I woke up on my own this morning, nothing planned for too early. I was wearing my swimsuit bottoms, nike shorts, and t-shirt. The same outfit I had worn during white water rafting, on the cruise, and going out. Why change now? After breakfast I headed over to the market one last time with Colleen, Kylee, and Senta. This time I didn’t bring any money with me. If I couldn’t trade for whatever I wanted, then I didn’t need it. Already having traded my sleeping bag and sneakers the day before, I packed my backpack with magazines, tampons, earrings, a t-shirt, a long sleeved shirt, socks, Pepto Bismol, and a UCT bag. We made our way to the market, the sun already forcing me to sweat through my dirty clothes. It was hectic once again. This time, however, we ventured further into the market to the stands in the back. There I traded my long sleeved shirt, UCT bag, a magazine, and tampons for my favorite trinket, which I cannot name. I traded with a man named Doubt and asked if I took take a picture of his booth. He excitedly agreed and then wrote down his address on a piece of paper so I could print out the picture and send it to him. After taking one picture and agreeing to send it, I was doomed.
(Doubt)
The rest of the time we were at the market I was continuously taking pictures of the vendors, showing them their picture on the digital screen, and then accepting their scraps of paper on which they scrawled their addresses. One picture stood out above the rest. Senta had decided to trade her watch, what for I don’t even remember. She handed the man her watch and he immediately turned and placed the watch on the wrist of a young girl. We came to find she wasn’t even his daughter. But it was still the sweetest thing. I took a picture of all of them, with their dad, and he proceeded to give me his address.
(The man in the back is the one who traded and gave the young girl Senta's watch)
This time he also gave me his email and phone number, though I’m not sure I’ll need those, and suggested I could also send the kids presents at Christmas. I didn’t make any promises, but ensured him I would eventually send the picture. After trading a few more things and getting harassed a bit more, the four of us made our way back to the lodge.
At 11 am Senta and I boarded a bus and rode to a gorge of the Zambezi River. We were doing a tandem zip line across the gorge!
(The gorge)
Let me preface this by saying that I don’t have a fear of heights, but if I had a choice I would rather not hang off a cliff. Yes, of course I did actually sign up for this, but the thrill seemed a lot more exciting when I wasn’t near the edge. A worker strapped Senta and I into our harnesses, making sure to scare the shit out of us with his jokes, and walked us to the landing for the zip line. We climbed up to the landing and were hooked to the actual zip line part. Things had been fine until now, but looking over the edge Senta began to freak. As we stood there she continued to say she no longer wanted to do it. The worker man ignored her, I assume they get people like that all the time, and had us sit on the ledge.
(On the edge of terror)
As Senta continued to dismiss the idea of the zip line, I too became very frightened. I had been before but kept my mouth shut. However, with Senta voicing her fear, I couldn’t help but realize mine.
(Before he let go)
At last I told her we’d be fine, the man told us to put our weight on our harnesses while he held onto the rope, and then he let go.
(Going...)
It was one of the most exhilarating feelings of my life. The wind whipped past my face as we dropped down the line, not in a free fall, but feeling like we’d fall forever.
(...going...)
The zip line brought us across to the other bank and then we continued to glide back and forth on the line until we slowed in the middle, hanging over the river.
(...gone.)
It was an amazing feeling. The scariest part of the whole experience had been sitting on the ledge and looking over. We sat there in our harnesses for what seemed like forever until one of the workers zipped himself down to us and then brought us back. Though the zip line was a blast, it felt good to reach solid ground, and Senta and I quickly climbed down from the platform and behind the fences guarding people from falling down the gorge.
We rode back to the lodge just in time for me to jump into the cab heading for the massage and Mani Pedi place. As it turns out, the spa was in the backyard of the bar, Shoestrings, we had been to the night before. Below a roof of sheets and walls of nothing, women pumiced my feet, scrubbed my arms and legs, filed down my finger and toe nails, and then painted them. The nail polish colors in the basket looked like those a child would wear, but I humored myself and chose bright green for my fingernails and clear for my toenails. Then came the massage. After sleeping on the ground for a week and riding in a rickety bus, the massage felt great and I dosed off. I had time to shower after coming back to the lodge, and then I had the lion encounter.
About seven of us from Team Elephant and a few random people took a bus from the lodge about twenty minutes out to the Lion Encounter. We were in the bush. One of the guides gave us a talk about the different stages of ALERT, the program this lion encounter was a part of. Basically, the lion population in Africa has dropped by 80% these past few decades. This program’s job is to raise lions from when they are cubs and start to grow up until they are ready to be put into the wild. While this program is in Zimbabwe, the guide told us they send these lions all over the continent when other countries request them. The group then split into two; Team Elephant and a few other couples went with Paul. We walked for about 45 minutes through the bush with two lions, a girl, Chete, 12 months old, and a boy, Chundu, 15 months old.
(Chete)
Paul explained to us to use our walking sticks to tap the lion’s head if they started turning towards us, and to never get near the head at all. We were all allowed to take turns petting the lions multiple times and took turns walking with them as well.
(Petting Chundu)
Paul was extremely adamant about everyone getting a chance to walk with the lions and pet them. He learned all of our names and proceeded to call us up, grabbing our cameras from us and snapping pictures with them. Numerous times the lions sat down on their own accord and Paul hustled us behind them one by one to take photos.
(Chete)
After the 45 minute walk we went back to the main house in the area, washed our hands, helped ourselves to Lion beer, and watched a video one of the workers had taken of us while on our walk.
It was a twenty-minute ride back to the lodge where everyone on Team Elephant rested. At 7 pm all of Team Elephant got on the truck and headed to Boma. Boma is a restaurant that promises a typical ‘African’ experience. Think of what you would consider to be a ‘typical’ African dining experience…and that’s basically what Boma was. As we walked through the entrance a cloth was tied onto us like a sarong and our faces were painted, two dots below the left eye for girls and two slashes for boys.
(Sarongs and face painting)
Inside the restaurant it was amazing. There were huge wooden rods holding up the thatched roof, and decorations all around. There was an impala cooking on a spit, men dancing in loin clothes and beating drums in the middle of the restaurant, and buffets of food to the side.
(Dancers at Boma)
We were seated at a long table and then the employees washed our hands at the table. We were each offered a drink of their homemade beer, which tasted like flour, and then we were free to feast. There was guinea fowl, impala, crocodile, boerwors, ostrich, and warthog, and then your usual chicken, pork and sirloin. There was plenty of other food besides the meats, but they were the most exciting. I must say that boerwors (like a sausage), ostrich, and warthog were my favorite and were all very delicious.
(Crazy African meats)
Also in the restaurant there was a man selling wooden carvings, a fortuneteller, a storyteller, and a medicine man who was going from table to table and offering to make his special drink of honey, cinnamon, vodka, and other ingredients.
(Medicine man)
After most people in the restaurant had eaten, we were each given a drum and taught how to play. After which the real drummers played while we all danced in the center of the room. We were the last ones left in the restaurant, finally making our extremely full bodies walk to the bus. Back at the lodge we all went to bed. It was our last night together, and we tried to stay at the bar and talk, but everyone was much too exhausted to try and make conversation.
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