Zimbabwe, Part 2: Motobo National Park

Hi everyone. Sorry for the delay- wifi was thin on the ground during our adventure days, and I didn’t have a way to type up/upload that didn’t involve waving my phone around trying to get signal, so I decided just to write everything down and type it up when we were back here, at Sam’s parents house in Harare.  Therefore, I ask you to please excuse the switching tenses etc., as I wrote different parts at different times.  Also, this turned out to be like six pages long, which made Sam promptly declare that no one would read it, so don't feel bad if you need to step away.  Anywhere, we pick up with our three musketeers having just arrived in Harare the first time, fresh off the plane. 

            As the plane descended over Harare International Airport, Madison and I got our first look at Zimbabwe.  It was pretty brown, with palm trees, of all things, which seemed out of place.  Harare International has maybe about eight gates, so it didn’t take long to unload and make our way to the visa station.  Americans (and others, I assume, but don’t tae my word for it) have to buy a $30 visa to enter the country, so by the time Madison and I had finished doing that, Sam had retrieved our bags and we could make our way to the arrivals section. 

            Waiting for us was a car and driver, Alec, who was holding up a sign that said “SAM AND FRIENDS” which Madison quickly started to adapt into a theme song.  We loaded up our things and drove off through Harare to the Wharton’s lovely home.  The night that we arrived, the Residence was hosting a goodbye party for a couple who had worked in public health in Zimbabwe for over fifteen years.  After showering and getting dressed up a bit (nothing like getting out of the clothes you’ve been in for two days, huzzah) Madison and I felt very fancy and very out of place milling around the large living room and veranda amongst the crowd of embassy staff and health sector workers. 

            Here the thing about Sam- we’ve have been friends for a very long time, at least relative to my life.  Theoretically, I knew he grew up all over the place and in Harare for four years before middle school, and that he’s always been the son of diplomat, but he’s always just been Sam at school.  This was the first of many sides of Sam that we hadn’t really ever seen- where Madison and I were nervous and giggling, he seemed to start conversations effortlessly and keep them going and just generally be a very good ambassador’s son.  It seems funny but he fits very well here, especially compared to Madison and I.  The party was very fun to observe and flit around in (and the food oh my gosh we were so hungry and the food was so good, we basically stole a ton of food from the kitchens and then hid out eating it all) and luckily it didn’t last too long, so we could relax and hang out with the Whartons afterwards and meet some of the household staff.  We didn’t want to stay up too late though, as we had to be up early to catch our bus from Harare on the way to our week of traveling.

And so part one of our adventure begins.  Up nice and early, we left for Bulawayo on the Pathfinder bus, a luxury coach system that would take us through all the different legs of our journey.  It was pretty comfy, as bus travel goes, and so we settled in, seats reclined, to watch the scenery pass.  It was early enough in the morning to see people making their ways to school and work, so the streets were full of pedestrians.  There was also a plethora of different colored passenger vans packed with people riding to work.  Madison and I watched wide-eyed at our first look of life in Harare.  Almost everyone seemed to be in some kind of uniform or suit, and it was especially cute to see the kids walking to school, dressed head to toe in red, green, or blue.  (We asked about private schools, but the vast majority of children attend public school, which still require uniforms.)  As the traffic thinned out we saw several buses joining ours on the main road heading towards or back from Bulawayo.  AS we rumbled along, I tried to come up with the words to describe the landscape, but really, picture an African savannah in your head- it’s pretty much just like that.  Red sandy girt growing tall yellow grass and random short trees, occasionally accentuated with thatch roof huts and weird looking cows or goatherds.  Sometimes we would pass a restaurant or gas station, but for the most part it was just wide skies and blue fields. 

The bus itself was full of an assortment of passengers, and the attendant passed out drinks and fruit and then led us all in prayer for a speedy and safe journey as we passed through the city.  Then they ruined on the Christian contemporary radio station- Madison knew many of the songs and strangely, the accompanying dance moves. 

This part of the journey was scheduled to take about six hours, but that did not account for the roadwork being done all along our route.  The main highway connecting the first and second largest city was two lanes, one going each way, and for long stretches a lane was closed, which added about an hour and a half to our journey.  Annoying, but as my friends soon found out, if you can put me on a train, bus, or car, I can fall asleep.  Basically, if it rocks, I’m fading out after about fifteen minutes.  I slept off and on for most of the trip, which was perfect because as we pulled in to Bulawayo, I felt wide-awake and excited.  As soon as we disembarked, Alex, one of the sons of the owners of the Farm House, picked us up and we drove the 40 or so minutes out to Motobo National Park.  

Turning off the main road in Bulawayo, we started chatting with Alex about the Farm House, where we had booked rooms for the next two nights.  At the moment, his parents were actually in Harare, so the farm was run by 20 year old Alex with the help of his older brother Alistair and about six staff.  The Farm House is set on about 1,000 acres right next to Matobo.  The property had about a dozen chalets, a main building with the dining room and kitchen, stables, and a large pen that was empty but usually housed Alex’s ostriches.  Elsewhere, there were about six giraffes, baboons, vervet monkeys, and a herd of wildebeest and zebra (zehbra, not zeebra, you silly American) that roamed around the property.  After checking in, we moved our bags into our rooms.  Madison and I were in number four.  The doors opened up into a small sitting room, separated from the bedroom with two single beds and a bathroom.  It was adorable and cozy and we quickly made ourselves at home, which for me consists of opening my suitcase on the ground and spreading my various detritus around the room. 

We wanted to waste no time before starting our adventures, so within the hour we reported to the stables for a horse safari.  We arrived promptly at the stables- but there were no horses.  We waited for a little while, wondering if it was possible that we were at the wrong place or had gotten the time wrong, when we saw a horse shaped animal moving towards us through the trees.  AS it cleared the brush, we saw that it was not, in fact, a horse, but rather a zebra, that walked right around us to graze at the hay outside the stables.  Her name was Lucky Dube (zebra in the Shona language) and she was kind of a lone wolf.  She stayed near the buildings, grazing around.  We gave her a wide berth, but it was very cool to see her walking past our rooms at night or during lunch. 

The horses finally arrived, moseying in as a group untethered and finding us completely uninteresting until the grooms came out and started saddling them up.  The glory of a horse back safari is that the animals let you get much closer when masked as part of the horse.  We rode through the property, getting up close and personal with the wildebeest and zebra herds.

  Wildebeest are funny creatures.  A guide told us at one time that they had been created out of leftover parts, and they look like it.  The ride reminded me that I am not a horse woman- I like them a lot, but my fear of heights is just lame enough to make me nervous at the beginning, and then I’m sore at the end.  We rode through the sunset, and once that sun disappears over the horizon, the temperature drops, and so by the time we cam back from dinner we were cold.  Really cold.  Sam kept telling us that it was winter in Africa and that we should pack accordingly, but Madison and I didn’t really listen because a) it’s Africa, so it must be hot, and b) its June, aka summer, but as it turns out he wasn’t wrong and it is COLD here, especially at night.  Daytime is beautiful and breezy and 65 in the shade, 75 in the sun, but the sandy ground retains no warmth once it gets dark.  Madison and I wrapped up in as many layers as we could comfortably breathe in and made a little cocoon under the blankets, and I don’t think I moved until morning. 

DAY 2

Well, today was maybe the most adventurous of my entire life and it’s only day 2 of my safari experience.  This morning we woke up at 6:30 to go to breakfast, and then meet up with Alex out front to pile into his jeep to go on a rhino walk.  We drove into Motobo Park itself, a world UNESCO Heritage site and picked up a Zim guide, one of a special force specially trained to know where the animals are/will be. We were super hopeful to see rhinos this time because last time Sam was here with his family, they walked around for six hours and couldn’t find one.  We drive through the off-road trail and ran into an anti-poacher guard, equipped with rifle, who said he had just seen one so he hopped in with us.  At some point, our guide saw something that indicated a good place to start walking, so we follow him through the bush, snagging twigs and leaves in my clothes and hair.  I was focusing on the difficult task of watching where I put my feet wile simultaneously not get poked in the eye with a stick (which is more challenging then you might think) when suddenly our guide stopped us and pointed ahead.  It took  a second for my eyes to adjust, and then I saw- through the trees, about 50 feet ahead, was a rhino sleeping in a bush.  We held our breath and we started to move closer, and then she got up and ambled away reveling a month old baby trailing behind her! I basically died from cuteness.  We followed them for a little way, vying for a better angle, but it’s amazing how quickly something that large can disappear. We tracked for awhile (our guide tracked, I watched for snakes) and climbed one of the hills to get a better view of the park.  No sign of rhinos, but not a bad view. We walked down back to the car and started to drive to the other side of the park, when Sam spotted another rhino right out his window, this time with a 3 year old adolescent.  Within two hours, we had seen four rhino, when some people stay in the park for a week and never find them.  As Madison said, the uncertainty of it all makes the sighting even sweeter, since there’s never a guarantee that you’ll find what you’re looking for.  There’s always plenty of other animals to sweeten the deal as well- on that drive we saw mongoose, vervet monkeys, baboons and impala- things that had Madison and I pressed to the glass oohing and aahing, and that Sam kind of glances over.  “You’ll see hundreds more (insert animal here) they’re all over the place.”

When we got back to camp, it was only about 10:30, so we decided to explore a little before going to lunch.  We went behind the stables to where Alex’s ostriches were being kept, as just a few weeks ago a leopard had killed one and then just hung around for a few days while the bids went crazy.  Alex explained that we used to have seven, but that one had died from disease, one had been eaten, and when the Minister of Land Acquisition (“basically, the person who comes and takes your land away”) had visited the Farm House, he said he wanted two, and so they went.  We’ve caught a couple more casual references of the blatant corruption in Zimbabwe.  When talking about his adrenaline sports, Alistair mentioned how you could pretty much bribe anyone to let you do anything.  Sam explained to us about the land garbs in the 2000’s as part of an indigenization effort, when something like 90% of white landowners had their properties seized.  Since the majority of tourism was run by these same farmers, it was disastrous for the economy, which still hasn’t recovered.  The Farm House was lucky since the land is too rocky to be much use for farmland and its land is so close to the park, so the Burtons got to keep it. 

Anyway, back to the ostriches.  They’re freaking weird looking.  Obviously they can’t fly, but they have large wings that tuck into an egg shaped body.  When they flap or preen, you can get a glimpse of they rough tree bark looking skin that goes all the way to their feet, which are basically just one big toe.  Then you have the necks, which bobs and weaves constantly, up to a tiny bird head which houses a tiny bird brain that does not at all show thorough their blank, watery eyes.  I think they’re hilarious.

            After that, we still had some time to kill before lunch, so we decided to hike the rest of the way up the trail behind our chalet.  The trail has some serious boulders to navigate and we detoured off the path a lot to climb trees and rocks to find the best “on top of the world” perch.  For the most part, the trail stays on the east side of the hill, facing towards the camp, but then at the top it crests to the other side and you realize that as awesome as the previous view was, it doesn’t compare to the miles (excuse me, kilometers) of boulders and hills on the west side.  These rocks are huge.  You are absolutely dwarfed standing next to them and you can see way larger ones on the hills across the way.  You can also see klipspringers and rock dassies, which don’t sound like real things but are basically large hamsters and mini goat/deer things that clamber up and down the hills with ease.  We also heard the frankly terrifying screeching of baboons echoing through the valley, but that was less cute.  We danced around up there for awhile (edit: I’m sure Sam would want me to clarify that Madison and I did all of the dancing) and them climbed back down for lunch, and then had time to relax before our next adventure: abseiling.

            Abseiling, (or “abbing” as they call it) is basically the fancy name for rappelling, which is a perfect sport for Matobos and all of its cliffs.  Alistair spent six years in the British Royal Marines as part of the abseiling team, doing demonstrations and shows around England.  He led a group of us back up to the top of the trail, went through a safety spiel that basically terrified me, and strapped us in to our harnesses.  Now, I am not the thrill seeking sort. I don’t ride roller coasters, and my biggest fears are heights, falling, and being out of control.  So I wasn’t letting myself think too much about walking backwards off a cliff while a guy I had met 24 hours before held my life in his hands at the bottom.  But I did not travel to all the way to Africa to wimp out on adventures, so off the cliff I went.  We started on the practice slope, about 12 feet high where Alistair showed us how to go and how to break.  Basically, you have a rope that goes from the top of the cliff down to the bottom, and you kind of get tied into the top and just let yourself slide down, feet against the rock and body parallel to the ground.  Your left hand is in front of you holding the rope above your tie, and your right hand has the rope back by your hip.  Closing your fist creates enough friction to stop yourself, and loosening lets you drop.  On the first go, with Alistair leading from the top and Alex at holding on at the bottom, he showed us the four breaks as we descended-  “I can break you from up here, you can break by your putting your right hand beg=hind your back, Alex can break you from below, and the fourth break is when you fall and break your back!” Ha. Ha. 

            We graduated from the practice slope to the nursery slope, about 25 feet where we could practice letting a little more line go and jumping down rather than walking.  From there, we went to Big Tasty, our final 60 foot vertical cliff. After getting down once or twice, Alistair deemed us proficient enough to undergo the ominously named Confidence Test.  The deal is that you get strapped into a chest harness, rappel over the cliff edge, and then Alistair breaks you from below and you hang, feet on the cliff and hands on your head, until he counts to three.  Then you jump off the rock, and he lets you fall.  Then he pulls on the rope, you come back to land on the cliff face, and then you fall again, and again.  I’m proud to say that my hands did not leave my head and I caught myself on my feet each time, but I suspect that had more to do with paralyzing fear then any indication of natural skill.  After dinner we celebrated our death defying feats with drinks at the bar.  I mainly listened to Sam talk to the locals about current Zim news.

the nursery slope

            We came back to our rooms to call our parents- the time difference makes after dinner the best time to reach the other side of the Atlantic.  It’s weird looking at calendars and hearing news from home because we’ve only been gone a few days but it feels like weeks already.  It’s funny how a place can feel familiar already, but it does.  We all agree that we could spend much more time at Motobos and the Farm House.  It’s not just that the landscape makes you want to disappear off into an adventure, but its also the friendly people and the cozy atmosphere of our little house.  Madison and I became very attached to our rooms, Lucky Dube, and the beautiful views. 

            Alas, we had to leave the next day, so we woke up early to climb the trail and watch the sunrise from the top.  It was very circle of life, watching the sky lighten a little at a time, illuminating the different layers of mountains until the sun spilled over and everything was golden again.  We had brought up blankets, and watched until the sun was well into the sky before heading back down.  We had time to do one last activity before driving back to Bulawayo.  After breakfast, Alex took us out on a bush walk around the property to see some cave paintings.  AS we walked, he pointed out some of the different plants- there’s a ton of birch looking trees that seem to be flaking its bark off like its sick, but actually has seeds in the bark. There’s the bushman’s blanket, a bush tree thing tat has fuzzy soft leaves that grows on disturbed ground, either from something like a fire or a nesting ground.  It gets its name from the fact tat when the leaves are pressed together, they stick like Velcro, so a bushman could theoretically make a blanket.  Since the leaves are the size of my thumbs, I’m not sure how practical that is.  We snagged other leaves that released a lavender scent when crumpled, and then ones that gave off a more bitter citrus scent.  We walked under cliff over hangs to look at a seemingly blank wall.  Then, when you blink, your eyes adjust, and the paintings appear, distinguishable from the rocks and water stains.  Men with spears, women with baskets, but mostly animals- giraffes with their long necks and legs, impalas with their curvy horns, and a carefully sketched out black rhino, rather than the more (relatively) white rhinos that we saw.  When the paintings were found, all the rhinos had long since been hunted out of the area, but then the discovery of the art was convincing enough to convince the park to reintroduce rhinos into the area.  It’s kind of cool, that little bush people (they were actually quite small, I’m not being condescending) drawing thousands of years ago helped to influence the preservation of their home land today.  I like to imagine that some of the drawings were done by bored teenagers, or moms wanting a little decoration for her cave walls, but there’s no real way to know.

an impala with its curvy horns

            We walked along the fence of the property, which was pretty much tall sticks wrapped with wire.  Alex explained that it worked well to keep the giraffes, zebras, and wildebeests inside the Farm House property, but it had to be low enough for the impala to jump over, because they’d try anyway.  Along the way, we came across a wooden ladder straddling the fence that we climbed over to find more caves and paintings before heading back to main camp to pack up. 

            We were sad to leave Motobo, but before we knew it, we were back in Bulawayo boarding another bus.  Or rather, waiting to board another bus.  The construction had made our bus late, and then when it did get there, the air conditioning didn’t work.

            I’ll sum up the six hour ride to Victoria Falls this way: it could have been worse.  The heat of the bus became less oppressive as the sun went down.  There’s not much else to say- we entertained ourselves by watching the driver flick his brights on and off at oncoming traffic.  It was that kind of boredom.  We took a quick break at a lodge on the edge of Hwange, where next to the watering hole just off the property the misty dark shapes of elephants could kind of be seen.  Then back on the bus, speeding through the dark towards our next destination- Victoria Falls.