Moonshine on the Zambezi

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Three Crates of Gin Later

The booze was flowing faster than our barge down the Zambezi. By barge, I really mean a motorised raft with a toilet cubicle, one man bar (plus three crates of gin), life jackets in the grate below the canvas roof (completely out of my reach) and some tables and chairs for support when the booze gets the better of us. The emergency exits are to your left, right, front and back over the railing. It was a Drifters only barge with our rowdy crowd and Leon’s trio. They were taking in the relative luxury of being clean and running water, having spent the last fortnight camping rough in Botswana. So the Swiss couple and an Austrian found themselves sucked into the crazy gin drinking world that is my group.

I am not even sure that people were actually looking at the sunset as we putted along the Zambezi. There were no hippos or crocodiles to be found but we did see the African Queen. The high brow, pristine white boat cruised unawares down the river towards the setting sun. The boys were lined up on the railing preparing to drop their pants when the African Queen took a swing to the right. He’s done this before. Our barge captain steered the boys towards the sluggish African Queen, looking for an opening. Mooning the African Queen is a tradition and as the same company runs both boat and barge, it was more or less friendly fire. Realising we would have to aim from the other side, the boys repositioned themselves. On the count of three the African Queen was greeted by nine international pasty white bums. Proudly, Derick notched moon number twenty-seven on his belt.

The sun had almost sunk into the Zambezi when angry Norwegian flowed from the seat next to me to the bar. There were lots of pointing to a stubbed out cigarette and accusations flying in Norwegian. I looked to Hendrik for an exact interpretation but all I received was a slurred version of something not even remotely connected to the heated exchange between Harald and Carl. At least I was sober enough to work out they were talking about a cigarette stubbed out too soon.
“It’s just a cigarette,” I said to a rather tense Carl.
“It’s just not about the cigarette,” he muttered back.
“It looked like it was just about the cigarette.”
“It’s just this whole entire trip, he’s complaining that he’s poor and he can’t tip. I mean how cheap? A few Rands here means a lot to these people. It’s nothing to me. I can work and earn much more than they can. He didn’t tip because the food is good, I mean even if it’s not good, the service was. I have friends who like drag up how I owe them 10 kroners like 10 months later. What is 10 kroner anyway? I know I never had to struggle, a silver spoon but there are a lot of people that aren’t as lucky,” he said. He continued for a little longer and I listened to the familiar speech. I think I gave it once or twice a few years back. In fact, I am sure I still do it now. “I get so frustrated,” he finished.
“We are lucky. The thing is, not everyone thinks like you, or me. Eventually you realise that its okay and everyone has a right to an opinion. But at some point in your life you realise that you grow apart from friends and that is not a bad thing. It happens and it means that you choose not to be as good as friends as you once where. We’re old enough to pick and choose our friends,” I reasoned as we left the barge and back to the vans. The conversation a little on the deep side considering how much we were drinking. Actually, how much he was drinking, most of my drinks were still half full on the tables.

Derick was rattling around in the back of the van with gin to his eyeballs and pants around his ankles. He was still mooning something or everything. Nicole was sticking her head out of the window for fresh air, I think. Albert was trying hard not to lose his marbles in the front seat as it was only the third time he had ever been drunk and I was looking at the hand that had just landed on my right breast.
“Hey! Carl’s grabbing your breast!” Nicole yelled the obvious.
“Ye-a, so he is,” I said as he removed his wayward hand, oblivious to his grope. Hats off to the driver who managed to get us back to the inn intact - minus our senses. At this point, Anouk and I were the only one sober.
“I’m in AA,” she revealed as we walked out to the boma for dinner.
“What?” Did I hear her right? She was in AA and had to endure all of us on a booze cruise. She deserves a few golden tokens for that at her next meeting.
“I’m in AA,” she repeated.
“I am so sorry; you could have said something…” I floundered for want of a better reply. How lame. What was I going to do if she had said something before the booze cruise? Not drink or tell the others to not get drunk?
“No, its okay. I don’t mind,” she said nicely.

Leanne came out to see what state we had come back in. As the innkeeper here at Vic Falls, she has seen many groups come back in various states of legless. I perched myself on a stool next to Harald while Alex continued to pose for the cameras. “I heard Carl talking to you about me,” Harald muttered.
“He wasn’t talking about you,” I lied lamely.
“Don’t lie to me, I can see he was,” he replied. He went on to tell me his side of the argument. It didn’t take long. The Zimbabwean dancers were ready to entertain us before dinner. Leon had to yell out several times before any of our group moved away from the bar. Nicole had found her South African g-string and it was worn in ways not originally designed for. I perched myself on the step to watch the same routine. Dressed in black and white loincloths, they clapped, jumped and spun rhythmically to their own tune. Drum beats and high pitched tribal-like cries flowed through the air. Then they pulled Nicole and Harald out for a bit of participation. It didn’t take long before the G-string followed, sailing through the air and landing on Harald.

Then it landed in someone’s soup before being discarded in the corner a horrid discoloured orange. A sherry bottle infused with chilli was passed around to be added to the soup. A bit of it went into the soup; a lot of it went down Hendrik’s gullet. It was passed around and everyone had a teeny tiny sip. Except Anouk. “Go on, try it,” the boys urged.
“I can’t, I’m in AA,” she replied calmly.
“Everyone’s having a bit, just a little bit,” they urged having not heard her.
“Shut up guys,” I said, “She doesn’t have to, you don’t have to,” directing my last bit towards her.
“She’s in AA.”
“I’m in AA,” she said as the same time as Albert. They heard it this time.
“Yep she’s in AA,” Albert slurred. “She would get absolutely…” he continued to slur and I could see she was getting a little uncomfortable. Luckily Harald and Hendrik were having their own argument.
“… I would have to bail her out and everything…,” he continued.
“Can I smack him for you?” I said to Anouk across the table.
“Please do,” she replied rolling her eyes. Albert was continuing as the sherry bottle made it round to him. He took a swig and with mouth full, tried to kiss her. Turning her head away from him, I marvelled how she didn’t just punch him out. I presume AA doesn’t condone violence either.
“Can I join you guys?” I yelled over to Leon’s group. The four of them were looking at us in amusement. Hendrik was more drunk than the four of them combined.
“You’re the one who cheated on his girlfriend while in Bangkok,” he retorted back just a decibel too loudly at Harald.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re drunk, go to bed,” Harald replied rather angrily. I agree, those who are drunk should not cast moral judgements.
“Seriously, can I join you guys?” I pleaded jokingly. Eric pointed to a seat on their very empty table. “Come and join us,” Derick invited. It seemed silly they hadn’t joined us before; there were four perfectly empty spots on our table. Besides, if they joined us maybe Hendrik wouldn’t need to speak so loudly. He chattered on and on something incredibly unintelligible. Dinner was over and we were ready to hit the town.

Two major ground rules we had drummed into us as we arrived were:
1) Do not walk in Vic Falls at night. It is in the middle of the national park, which means the animals are free to roam. You do not want to meet a buffalo while on foot. It’s your life.
2) Do not exchange any money on the black market. It is illegal. Don’t even attempt it, they give you attractive exchange rates and will rat you out to the police.

Both were broken that night. Walking out the gate everyone; bar Anouk (who probably had enough of drunken shenanigans) and the Austrian, decided to find a venue to continue the evening. Someone slapped my arse. I turned around and it was Eric. He raised a guilty hand in apology.
“Careful, this arse hasn’t been capture on film yet,” I joked.
“Why not?” Leon asked.
“Because the boys are too busy taking shots of their own arses.”
“I’ve never known anyone that likes to look at their own arses as much as these guys.” Welcome to the digital age when you can see your own pearly white butts instantly.

We migrated towards Shoestrings backpackers, like a herd of two-legged buffalos, with Bugsy leading the way. Bugsy is the only mutt Jack Russell that crosses the borders to go to the pub. “Bugsy was spotted in Zambia one night and the next night back in Vic Falls. Travellers see her in Zambia and then can’t believe it when they see her in Vic Falls,” Leon lent down and patted her fondly. “Take us to Shoestrings Bugsy,” he commanded. She bounded ahead unaware of the car that was heading our way. “Come back Bugsy, Bugsy!” Leon whistled for her to come back to him, out of harms way. She almost gave me a minor cardiac arrest. “She’s going to die one day, running around like that,” Leon stated matter-of-factly,
“Don’t say that, that’s horrible.”
“It’s the truth though. I used to work with dogs. I was in the canine unit in the army.”
“How long did you do that for?”
“Two years.”
“What made you change to guiding?”
“I was only in the army because we all had to. I’ve been doing this for eight years. I was with Peregriens for seven years.”
“Don’t you get tired of this?” I asked waving at this motley crew who in a week’s time will be nothing more than a memory and replaced by a new group.
“No. I’m used to it. Besides I don’t believe in marriage,” he replied.
“I don’t believe in marriage either.”
“Really?” he asked completely surprised by my answer. I guess not many men find woman who don’t believe in marriage unless they were part of some tree worshipping hippy commune.
“I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me I love someone,” I explained. I left it at that, to go any further to the heart of the reason could take all night.

Shoestrings was dead so following Bugsy, we went to Croc Rock instead. Its funny how you can see what a great location Croc Rock once was and in better times would be a investment. A large open court with speakers playing music and a wide bar built underneath a walkway running from the parking lot. Through the alley the rest of it lay inside with a raised dance floor. In better times, the doors would open between the two and party-goers can flow into the courtyard. A few more people were around but I think the boys couldn’t walk much further. By law the bar has to accept Zim dollars and if you don’t have any, no matter. The bartender is bound to have a friend on the end willing to exchange any foreign currency. The boys could barely stuff the wad of bills into their pockets.
“Look at this,” Derick’s wad of bills was as thick as a brick. “You could kill an Australian with this!” And to demonstrate he conked me on the head with it. It hurt. I could have been all girly and coy and poked out a trembling lip for some sympathy but I felt that smacking him across the head would convey my sentiments faster and little bit more clearly.

Carl and Albert were in the corner having a heated discussion, Alex and Eric were showing their dancing prowess and Hendrik and Harald were having a civil conversation at the bar. Eventually Carl and Albert disengaged from the argument and joined us. Only for Carl to start having an argument with Nicole. He let out a tirade of pent up frustration at Nicole who had started to sober up and feeling a little confused. Stepping in between and trying to get him to calm down, he duly pushed me off the step and out of the way. I looked at Andrea, shrugged my shoulders and together we decided to create a little harmonious spot of dancing. Hendrik far gone was sitting on the bar swaying to the sound of music only he can hear. Carl eventually stormed back to the inn with Hendrik and Harald in tow. Nicole looked like she was about to cry.
“What did I do? What did I say?” she asked.
“He’s just over-reacted. He’s drunk and don’t worry about it. It’ll be forgotten,” I soothed.
“I feel upset now that I upset him and I don’t know why. I don’t like upsetting people, I think I’ll go back,” she muttered.
“Don’t do that. You were having a great time and if you went back all you would do is lie in bed and stew about all night feeling even more miserable. It achieves nothing. Stay with us and have a good time and then go back.” She agreed and we all went inside for some more dancing.

And dancing they all did. With the amount of sliding and break dancing Alex and Derick did, the platform would have been sparkling clean. Alex’s jeans had a large gaping rip at his crotch which he had tried to repair a few days ago to provide a little bit more modesty. Unfortunately (depending on your liking) the repair did not hold through the rigours of spins, moonwalks and leg splaying slides of the night. Albert was also dancing to his own tune and when he tried to grab me for a spin, missed me completely. All round a very good night/morning and not to break rule number one again, found a taxi to take us back.
The boys were ushered off to bed and Nicole realised that she had but four hours before her morning flight across the Victoria Falls. Derick needed a biscuit and went off to find something before passing out in his own room. Leon made me a cup of coffee and settled down in the boma.
“Tell me about your group? What are the dynamics like?”
I rabbited on for a little while which didn’t help his hang over, mind you his senses was in a haze of gin. I don’t think he should have started me off.
“But they are a good group?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow no one is going to hold any grudges which is great. We all get along,” I amended.
“And you?” I thought about it and have to admit it.
“I’m mum. I love being in the middle of nowhere and I love travelling and get away from everything, but on this trip, I am definitely mum.” Something I am sure every red hot blooded male looks for in a girl - mumsy qualities, but there it is. I am like mum and if you have ever met my mum, that isn’t a bad thing.
“And your group?” I asked, I was talking way too much again.
“They’re cool.” Nothing really followed after that. The conversation continued as the coffee went down. Forty minutes later, Leon was beginning to feel the effects of too much beer and G&T. That was my queue.
“Thank you for the coffee,” I said standing up and putting the cup away.
“Pleasure,” he replied. I love how the South Africans say ‘pleasure’ after being thanked. It is one of those wonderful South African sayings that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Much better than the “No worries,” or “You’re welcome” us Australians normally reply with which sound more automatic than sincere.

I woke up to the “Whup, whup” sound of the fan and the smell of bacon from the kitchen down the corridor. It was nice and warm in the sunbeam filtering through the windows and across my mozzie net surrounding the bed. It was mid week but for all I knew or cared it was a sunny Sunday afternoon and I was going to stretch out in bed like a lazy cat. It was too peaceful to be filled with hangover talk and odd tensions from a night full of uncontrolled outbursts.

Eventually I rose languidly out of bed and took my time packing my bag which had exploded a night ago. Dammit! I was going to go down to the markets to trade some well worn clothes with Anna. Another time. It was quiet by the pool and I enjoyed a few moments of writers block before Leon joined me after taking the boys out into town. He needed another coffee. Derick found me there chatting to Leon and his group.
“Why hello!” he replied cheerily. Eric squinted at him through his hangover haze and Leon just blinked.
“You’re still drunk aren’t you?” I replied amused. Derick laughed.
“When I woke up this morning, Leon asked how come I wasn’t hungover, I said ‘it’s probably because I’m still drunk.’ Where were you this morning? Everyone was so hung over!” he asked.
“I wasn’t hung over, I barely drank last night. I woke up early when Nicole left and just stayed in bed, falling in and out of sleep. But I did see Albert looking a little legless in the corridor.” It was another gorgeous day if not humid.
“I need to think,” Leon murmured standing up, “and I think better lying down.” He stretched and went back to bed. Eric and Andrea had the same sentiments and went inside. Derick unfortunately had to tie up some loose ends before departing this afternoon. I suppose I could have been more productive and walked into town, spend some more Zim dollars but I couldn’t believe this would be my last time.

The rest were in town and Anouk and I were the only ones on board the truck with derick as we waved goodbye to Drifters.
“You’ll be back,” Leon said to me, as he reached up to close the doors for us. “Save your Zim dollars, you’ll be back.” Give me six months.

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Photos

Drifters Sunset Cruise
Before the haze of gin starts....

Zambezi Sun
Something more than booze...

Lining Up
The boys getting ready to moon the African Queen

Friendly Fire
ten points if you can match the bum to the face...

Carl & Me
'See, I do smile!'

Sunset over the Zambezi
Look guys, the sunset... guys?

Gin Twins
Looking a bit pink cheeked

African Entertainment
Singing, athletic leaps all to the rhythm of african drums

Harald's Turn
'This is not so hard' - with G-string as a hat

Finale
Goodnight....'in the jungle, the mighty jungle...'

Dance Stylings
Alex & Eric bust some moves. In the corner the pub crawling Bugsy

Alex Lennon
The beginning of the Alex Show

Breakdancing
...where am I?

Alex & Derick Disco Fever
and the pants couldn't handle the rigours of spins & slides