It’s the “real” thing …

Somewhere near Chirundu, Zambia – Greetings oh freezing ones in the land of the people of the south… I come to you today from the depths of the Dark Continent, on the banks of the mighty Zambezi river, a few kilometres downstream from the bustling settlement of Chirundu and the confluence of the almost-as-mighty Kafue river.

If the writing of this week’s column is somewhat stilted you will have to forgive me, because everyso often I have to move to accommodate the odd wandering bull elephant, currently hoovering camp for the odd early albida pod from the canopy of the winterthorn grove I am writing from.

Yes. I am doing the safari thing – a la Hemingway and Blixen (but without the scourge of various dread diseases and a wind-up gramophone blurting out Mozart’s finest).

I have had a twin base for this latest foray into wild, untamed Africa – the delightful Kanyemba Lodge and Kanyemba Island bush camp, and the equally charming Chongwe River Camp. Both are independently owned and run by pukka Zambian alpha males – the irrascible Riccardo Garbaccio, of Italian descent and similarly latin fire has made Kanyemba a force to be reckoned with, and has managed, single handedly, to increase his bednights by 10% this year at a time when everyone else is sitting looking at a drop in bookings of around 30% ; and Chris Liebenberg, Chongwe’s head honcho and a lovable rogue – a kind of Captain Jack Sparrow of the Lower Zambezi valley with a wicked smile and equally wicked sense of humour.

Garbaccio and Liebenberg are the sort of stalwart fellows that the African safari industry is founded on – guys who love the bush and all that lives on it and in it and just can’t wait to share their passion with you. As a result, their respective wilderness retreats stir something inexplicable inside every guest brave enough to venture beyond the safety of urban sprawl into this very real, and very breathtaking corner of Africa.

Oops. Here comes another elephant. Time to move, methinks… So please just hang on while I migrate beyond the reach of those particularly fine tusks…  *!$ …**@#!…. !!@##@…*!

*#!@… There… that should do it for now. Sorry it took a while but he gave me a particularly awesome “rev” – a fine shaking of ears and poepol-clenching trumpet – as I edged past him, laptop in hand.

Anyways – where was I? Ah yes… paradise found on the banks of Africa’s fourth-longest river.

Yup. Let me tell you, ladies and gentlefolk of the tourism industry, if you have been scratching your head and getting splinters at where to send your next bunch of safari-seeking clients, look no further than Zambia… And once there, you could do worse than opting for the Lower Zambezi Valley.

As promise in my column last week, I have checked out the new Chiawa Partnership Park (CPP) plans, which are pootling along nicely. The traditional leader of the Goba people (who form the bulk of the Chiawa community), Her Royal Highness Chieftainess Chiyaba, is behind the CPP 100%, and full of praise for this groundbreaking initiative which will see her people benefit directly from tourism bednights booked at operators within the CPP.

Admittedly, there are some fine community initiatives down south in the Land of Zuma, where responsible tourism is now less a buzz word and more of a serious movement towards the sustainable development of tourism for community empowerment. But in all fairness to all of my numerous chommies in the Rainbow Nation, with one or two exceptions the safari experiences in sunny South are tame compared to the raw, completely wild open spaces of Zambia.

This, for me at least, is the last outpost of untouched Africa – where wild animals have the right of way, and you are frequently preventing from either entering, or leaving your tent due to the fact that someone has parked a rather large and imposing elephant bang smack in front of your door.

I fell asleep on a lounger by the pool yesterday, and was wakened by a strange snuffling next to my face. Opening up one eye carefully, making a great effort not to move too suddenly, I was greeted by the sight of a warthog’s snout not 30 centimetres from my nose, sniffing me intently (must have been the Eau de Truffel I sprayed on that morning!)
We had a kind of warthog – human Mexican standoff for about 30 seconds before my left foot involuntarily twitched and sent the courageous hog running for the long grass with a surprised grunt, tail in the air, aerial fashion.

It’s moments like that, combined with characters like Garbaccio and Liebenberg and staff like old Mr “Maps” Maponyane, now in his early 60s and greying gently at the temples, who has seen more in his six or so decades than most of us have watching a lifetime of television, who make Zambia such an amazing safari destination.

Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from Zambia’s rough edges. We South Africans have fought so hard to manage our environment, and manufacture our five-star safari experiences that we may just have missed the point entirely… Africa is not best sampled in air-conditioned luxury over cognac served in fine crystal… It’s a dish best served raw, with all of the trimmings nature provides – wild, untamed, un-tampered-with and Real with a capital R.

Aah. Here comes another elephant with that “you’re in my way” look in his eye. A perfect cue for a quick getaway… I’m off to catch me a tiger (fish, that is). Totsiens!