The smoke that thunders

Not only does work come in waves, but so too do things to write about. Friday night a Zambian woman in our office organized a centuries old traditional performance/"educational session" involving drums, dance and some hardcore hip-isolation action which is meant to titillate and tempt your husband-to-be. In the past (and still sometime in more rural locations) the whole process was meant to last the month before marriage. These days however, women only take a night to do it, so it came across as a Zambian version of a bachelorette party. I'll save that story for vocal sharing (I wouldn't want to incriminate anyone, now would I?) and instead tackle the most recent (and maybe the most impressive) first while impressions are still fresh in my mind: Victoria Falls. The largest waterfall in the world, or so it claims - it is neither the highest nor the widest but its height and width form the largest sheet of falling water in the world (I stole this fact from Wikipedia). In Nyanja it's named Mosi-oa-Tunya , or the Smoke that Thunders. And thunder it does.

Another intern (Alice), my friend Jamie from Bowdoin, his friend Brandon and I road-tripped out there early Saturday morning and made the 6 hour journey arriving by 1ish. Splitting the driving made it easy and allowed us to sneak in some naptime, and cruising in car was so liberating. Here we were, on our own, driving in Africa, blasting music, singing along, joking and chilling out.

We hit up the falls soon after arriving at our hostel. Both Brandon and Jamie had been there last during the wet season and explained that at the time the mist was all-encompassing, obscuring the view, though the sheer magnitude and force of the falls was overwhelming. This time the stream was less, but it stretches so long and wide with a precipitous drop and moss-padded boulders crashed into by tumbling water...in some ways I'm glad it was the low season because we were able to see more. I never knew that Vic falls fell into a gorge so we were able to stand on one side and watch the other, peer into Zimbabwe, gape at people bungee-jumping from the bridge, sit in awe t the strength and capacity of those falls. I don't get it, it's just wanter and empty space, yet it takes people's breath away - including my own - every time.

The next day we hiked down to the Boiling Pot which is where the river turns below the falls, so for a little corner portion the raging water is (relatively) calm. There are no other words for what we did apart from frolic in the water and lounge in the sun. Afterwards we hiked back up and walked to the other side of the gorge where the river actually flows from. Stepping through shallow yet forceful streams, we made our way across water-eaten rocks carved deep by the powerful river to a pool of water right on the edge of the drop-off - I literally lay across the edge and peered hundreds of feet to the precipice below. My stomach flip-flopped but the adrenaline was also exhilarating and refreshing in a strangely carnal and simplistic sense.