I have been lucky enough over the years to have had many weekend breaks in different parts of the world. Ones that spring to mind include a stag weekend in Stockholm, an NYC break when I was living in the US and a jaunt to Paris on the Eurostar. The usual format, as I am sure many of you will be able to empathise with, is as follows: journey to the location, carefully balancing the excitement of a greater distance vs the tedium of a Friday journey for just a weekend; settle into where you are staying as quickly as possible, again balancing the familiar home comforts with new discoveries; pack as much activity into the weekend as possible but at the same time allow for the fact you will be back at work next week and hence need some down time; and, finally, travel back home, ideally completed as quickly as possible with the minimum of fuss and delay.
Well, if Zambian weekends are all like the one I have just experienced, then I may have just found the Carlsberg of weekend formats. It would have been crazy to come all this way for two months of work in Lusaka without seeing a little of the touristy side to Zambian life and, with the help of a couple of friends, a trip to the Lower Zambezi was thus arranged. Friday saw me board a plane at Lusaka airport; not only did I turn left however, I sat in the co-pilot’s seat, just the first of many examples this weekend where a health and safety executive hasn’t yet managed to have any influence thank heavens (I am still scarred from the ‘you should consider requiring torchbearers to wear flame proof suits’ and ‘you must request permission of every hotel on the relay to keep the flame there overnight’ advice – how did we cope without them?!). And what a flight too: views of the hills, the mighty Zambezi and frequent game sightings from the air were followed by a landing at the dirt runway of Jeki, after the impala had been encouraged off the landing strip first.
We then hopped across to the far more sophisticated (it had tarmac and a hut) Royal airport before the short drive to the Chongwe river camp. 45 thrilling minutes from Lusaka and I was in the middle of the Zambian bush. That short transfer was to give me an insight into how far away from Lusaka and how remote we really were, interrupted as we were by elephants, lions and a range of other game. And we weren’t even in the park yet, merely the fringes (called the Game Management Area). Arriving at the camp, I was ushered onto a very pleasant terrace with a bar overlooking the confluence of rivers and given my second glimpse of health and safety, Zambian style: DON’T GET EATEN. Although, in true H&S style, whether this was for my benefit or the harm it might do to the tourist industry should I fail to heed their advice was a moot point.
Via a detour because an elephant had inconveniently decided to take a mud bath in the middle of camp (you would if you could), I was then shown to my tent, a highly luxurious setting considering the circumstances complete with the best shower I have come across in Zambia. As with all good long weekends, the attention to detail was impressive and appreciated. Less familiar was the whistle to attract immediate attention and the radio to call for help, although I suspect these could come in handy in some of the cities I have visited over the years. The weekend continued with simply amazing scenery, game and other wildlife interspersed with fabulous customer service and local knowledge from my hosts at Chongwe. As well as seeing all of the usual big stuff, the highlight had to be the walking safaris. Even though, or perhaps because, we had a scout armed with a rifle that looked like it predated independence, I assure you that you feel alive when you hear a lion roar nearby and aren’t quite sure from which direction it might appear.
Needless to say with all good long weekends, they aren’t long enough. Seemingly shortly after I was unpacking, I was packing once more and heading for the flight home. Not only was I the only passenger, again; not only did I turn left, again; and sit in the co-pilot seat, again; the perfect conclusion was that the journey back only took fifteen minutes (it was a much faster plane I am told). Within 90 minutes of having lunch surrounded by crocs and hippos, and equally incredibly listening to TMS on wifi, I was back at home unpacking once more.
Tourism is big business in Zambia, other than mining perhaps the biggest business. I suspect most tourists to Zambia only see this side to the country which, whilst amazing, does not give you a real perspective of what the country is actually like. Later this month, Zambia hosts the UN WTO (World Tourism Organisation) General Assembly in Livingstone which it clearly considers to be a significant privilege, although without encouraging the sceptics to think about legacy too much I would be intrigued to know what the benefits to Zambia will actually be. Troublingly, Zambia is jointly hosting the Assembly with neighbours Zimbabwe. I understand from my hosts on the western bank of the Zambezi this weekend that adventure tourism trade on the other bank is alive, well and just as exclusive, as well as being terribly helpful both as income and legitimisation for Mugabe. The cynic in me wonders why President Sata, elected here in 2011 in relatively free and fair elections and, initially at least, joyously welcomed by the people of Zambia, would want to work with the regime across the border. Or should a question about scavenging over a carcass be directed to the UN instead?
Posted in 2013
Scholey.com 