It was late evening when we arrived at the Namibia Airport, I was immediately greeted by a beautiful black man. "I'm Derek your guide," he extended his hand towards me with a wide grin, then announced earnestly :"I'm a bastard" " Oh sure....if you say so." At this point of the journey nothing startled me anymore. Only much later did I realize what he actually said was "baster", a Namibian term denoting an ethnic group descended from a crossbreed of Afrikaners and indigenous tribes. Oh well !
Derek quickly packed us into his minivan then promptly cut his hand on a piece of sharp metal jutting out from the dashboard near the ignition switch, instantly dripping blood all over the front seat. " Doctor doctor," everyone in the van shouted in unison : "do something !" I sighed in resignation, this trip had been nothing but EVENTS !
The trip started 5 days ago inauspiciously. We boarded the plane at midnight from Hong Kong, the flight to Johannesburg was 13 hours, so I took careful deliberation to settle myself restfully for the duration. Except Providence disagreed, and at the exact moment I closed my eyes I heard a rumbling several rows back. I sensed it's becoming serious when a blond girl in the next aisle nudged her boyfriend awake then stood up to take pictures with her cell phone. By then the rumbling had evolved into a commotion, and suddenly the intercom boomed urgently : " Is there a doctor on the plane ?" I slide deeper into my seat to wait for the usual. From past experiences right after the first appeal an American (or two) would have rushed forward bursting with self-importance and put on a big show " I'm the doctor, what needs to be done ? Chop chop ! " Unfortunately not this time. By the 3rd appeal I was incredulous - 260 people on the plane and not another doctor aboard ?! I had no choice but to get out of my seat and presented myself to the Afrikan air stewardess. " What do you want ?" she was as annoyed as she was big. " You called for a doctor, I'm a doctor" I said apologetically. " Oh good ! " she thrusted a syringe into my hand " I need you to give the troublemaker this sedative, under South African Aviation Law, only medically qualified persons are allowed to give injections"
"Hold on!" I stretched myself to stand as tall as possible, which merely brought my head to the level of her bosom, and put on my business voice:" Before I administer any medication could I first find out for myself what's going on please ? And I'd like to speak to and do a clinical assessment of the person concerned." "OK" she was only too happy to pass the buck. "Mind yourself, he's drunk !" With that parting warning I walked up to the culprit gingerly, introduced myself and relieved to find him subdued and ready to tell his side of the story. He was also handcuffed." Have you been drinking?" In-spite of his bloodshot eyes Mr C insisted he had not- he was lucid, his speech was clear and there was certainly no alcohol smell on him ; he also denied to be on any medication. Apart from a couple of scratches on his arm there was no other visible injury. I checked his passport and letter of employment. It transpired Mr C was from a poor Chinese rural province, en route to Zambia to work as a laborer. He claimed the European gentleman in the seat next to him was disrespectful : allegedly the guy curled up on the 2 seats next to him and luxuriously stuck his feet in Mr C's chest, when Mr C angrily pushed the feet back the 2 men started a shoving match which got more and more physical, during which Mr C's T-shirt got torn at the sleeve. Now properly incensed, Mr C ripped his shirt off completely to reveal Hercules muscles and a large tattoo, then he jumped up on the seat and growled. At this point the giant steward and stewardess stepped in. I shook my head in sorrow, 2 people were involved in a fight, yet only one was branded the troublemaker, the bad person. I'd like to believe it was the Yakuza torso and not his ethnicity that clinched the deal but I'd my doubts. Meanwhile his equally combative white neighbor had long been moved to another seat some way back, busily feigning asleep.
" It seems the whole episode was a silly misunderstanding compounded by language barrier" I explained to the stewardess and the co-pilot, who sauntered up to get the latest," He's sorry and promises to be quiet and behave himself, is it possible to take the handcuffs off ?" "No," the co-pilot said " We've already informed the Police so when we arrive in Johannesburg he'll be escorted to the Police Station " " Couldn't anything be done to reverse that ? He's only in transit in Johannesburg and due on a plane to Zambia ! He doesn't speak any foreign languages, he's travelling alone and knows nobody here, plus he might lose his job if he doesn't get to Zambia in time " " Sorry no, the wheel's already in motion, but I'd remind the police to get him an interpreter "
Mr C was calm when I told him his fate, I then got him a blanket and told him to get some rest. I felt so bad for Mr C I spent the next hour or so composing 2 letters, one to the Pilot ( in the troposphere the pilot's the de facto supreme commander) and one to the South African Police Superintendent, pleading his case. People who begrudge Chinese laborers in Africa never knew the degree of helplessness and hardship they're subjected to. Adhering to the traditional Chinese work ethics and unrestricted by local labor law, they generally work much longer hours than their African counterparts, and in worse conditions. Barely literate, they are the poor wretched souls that China's economic gravy train has left behind. I could never understand how these people manage to go as far as they do. I remember in Sudan airport I ran into 5 laborers from Sichuan and had to spend 20 minutes filling in each of their immigration form, checking and rechecking the data for them. They couldn't read the form and were blissfully unaware they needed them to pass through immigration ! They also had no idea where anything was and would have missed their flight if I didn't drag them to the right gate. The bewildered haunted look that is the universal badge of identity on the disadvantaged poor is only too easily recognizable. And I see them everywhere.
It was the first time I was in South Africa, so I was glad to get some pointers from Mr Wang, who's originally from Beijing but had lived in Johannesburg for over 25 years, though he's unsure if he planed to stay on much longer. He's just sent his daughter to study in Australia. " If she decides to stay on in Australia that's fine with me !" he said . " I hear crime rate's bad in Johannesburg, are things better in Cape Town ?" " But they're COMPLETELY DIFFERENT stories ! " Mr Wang was horrified at my ignorance, " In Johannesburg they rob you with a gun, in Cape Town they rob you with a knife !"
The drama continued on the flight to Zambia. A Chinese lady in our group simply refused to take her seat. The pretty Zambian stewardess wrung her hands in distress " Ma'am, we've to take off now, you must sit down !" " What's the problem ?" I popped my head up and immediately saw the problem : the woman's seat was the middle one between 2 black men. " It's OK, I'll switch seats with her, " I told the stewardess who beamed in relieve. The loss was on the woman, I chatted with the African gentleman on my left, Mr Ochuko, and found to my delight that he was a Nigerian Government Officer on his way to a Rotary Convention in Zambia, the 2 day event was to take place in the very hotel we were to stay in ! I'd always wanted to visit Nigeria, ever since when I was in high school in South London and my favorite Physics tutor was a Nigerian. It was also a real pleasure to meet Rotary delegates from many African countries as well as local Zambian members later in the day, and learnt about their charitable work.
We started the sightseeing from Livingston town, the tourist capital of Zambia today. It's named after the Scottish explorer Dr David Livingstone, who discovered and named the Victoria Falls in 1855. We were taken to the Craft Village then on the obligatory Zambezi river sunset cruise, but I was more interested in exploring the town on my own. Livingston town was one of the first white settlements in Zambia , which was then Northern Rhodesia. It's been promoted as a historic town for its colonial architecture preserved from the first decade of the last century. The 1981 movie "The Grass is Singing" ( based on the novel by Doris Lessing, British Rhodesian Nobel laureate in Literature (2007) , and set in 50s Rhodesia ) was filmed on location here because of its dated character.
Our driver for the day in Botswana was Blessing, a name he chose for himself when he converted to Christianity. He's in good company as 70% of Batswana are Christians. The windscreen of his bus was plastered with stickers depicting football heroes (football being the most popular sport here ) and HIV prevention slogans (HIV being the most devastating health crises here). Botswana has the third highest HIV infection rate in the world, it's been estimated a quarter of all adults here are infected.
Trust me, I am a doctor !
The Chobe River Boat Cruise was great fun for me specifically because of the comedy team that's the Captain and Willie, the boat boy. The Captain was forever taking the mickey out of Willie, " Do you know why his nickname is Ant ? And why he needs to drink of a lot of water all the time. "" Why ?" " Because he scurries around a lot like an ant, and his long hair needs water to grow, just like plants !" He laughingly pointed to Willie's dreadlocks. " He keeps his hair this way because he's a Bob Marley fan" Willie nodded in assent." That's reggae, right? I thought Bob Marley was Jamaican. Aren't you a bit young to be a Bob Marley fan ? I believe he died of malignant melanoma in the early 80s, 20 years before you were born. " With the few sentences I exhausted my total knowledge of reggae music." Yes, but there's quite a 'Rasta' following in Botswana nowadays " "Wow, that's interesting it's happening now !" I mused. The Rasta - Black Cause movement originated in Jamaica in the 1930s, aside from its religious and spiritual dimensions, it also had an earthly aim which was to rectify the falsification of Black history by the power cultures and religions of the West, reaffirm the dignity of a people scorned by centuries of slavery, and to promote a black identity for blacks across both sides of the Atlantic. Bob Marley was credited for being the voice that brought the movement to the international stage.
1) What's as big as an elephant but has no weight ?
2) What comes up once in a year and twice in a week ?
If you guessed the answer to be : 1) is "shadow" and 2) the letter "E", you're a much more clever person than I am !
The first president of Botswana, Seretse Khama, married a white English woman Ruth Williams in 1948, a union that flew in the face of racial segregation of the time. To appease South Africa, the British government banned the Khamas from Botswana for almost a decade. Their story was told in the movie "A United Kingdom" (2016). The positive outcome of the couple's pain is Khama and his successors strove hard for racial harmony, hence today black/white relationship is more relaxed in Botswana than most other post-independence Africa. Relationship with the Chinese however is not exactly cordial, but the reason is economical rather than racial. Chinese presence in Botswana became significant during the country's construction boom in the late 1980s ; today the 6000 or so Chinese in Botswana are mostly small traders, who have been heaped with the usual criticisms for flooding the local market and blamed for conflicts over management style. Even while acknowledging their service to be essential to the majority poor in the country, the government has responded in restricting licensing of Chinese retail businesses, and generally created an increasingly hostile environment by imposing strong regulations. Kind of a mini-Trump tactic !
Victoria Falls town is a small border town and Zimbabwe’s busiest tourist destination. There were the usual souvenir shops, curio and sculpture markets where one could find the famous Zimbabwe Shona stone carvings, and of course plenty of eateries. There were depressingly few tourists about and I was impressed how gracious the vendors were when I politely declined their sales. I was more interested in observing the everyday life of the locals. Wandering off the main avenue, I stumbled into a small local library only to find a young librarian on duty guarding mostly empty shelves. The miserable 100 or so tattered and yellowing books ranged from Thomas Hardy, Charles Dickens, Enid Blyton, Biggles, to a few old science text books - all very 60s Britain and looked suspiciously like cast-offs from people who had to leave in a hurry.
The pitiful library left me sick to the stomach when I recalled the uproar Bona Mugabe ( daughter of Robert Mugabe) caused in the Hong Kong Legislative Council in 2009, when she was enrolled into the Hong Kong City University to do Accountancy and Administration under the alias Tracy Guvamombe. Ironically her cover was blown because her mother, Grace Mugabe, assaulted a British photographer for the Sunday Times newspaper while shopping in Tsim Sha Tsui in Hong Kong, which naturally hit the news. Known infamously in her country as "Dis Grace","Gucci Grace" and "The First Shopper", Grace was after all merely doing what she did best ! The poor guy however sustained numerous bruises, cuts and abrasions to his head and face, courtesy of the multiple diamond rings on Grace's fingers when she attacked him outside the Shangri-La Kowloon where the Zimbabwean entourage took up two floors. The hotel bill of tens of thousands of British pounds was paid in cash, even as their country was mired with poverty, hunger and hyper-inflation. Mrs Mugabe got away under the shield of diplomatic immunity.
The news broke worldwide at the same time as Zimbabwe announced both a hike in student fees and a demand that tuition would from then on to be paid in US instead of Zimbabwe dollars. The students took to the streets. " Why is Bona not attending Lupane or Midlands State University ?" asked Clever Bere, president of the Zimbabwe National Students' Union (Zinasu) " She must come back home and face the same suffering with fellow Zimbabweans because of her father's policies !" Zinasu swiftly mounted an online campaign to pressure Hong Kong to deport Bona. Unfortunately in the way of this cold harsh real world, not only were their efforts futile, 60 university students were jailed after clashes with the Zimbabwean riot police, and to add insult to injury, media further leaked that to prepare for Bona's stay in Hong Kong, Mugabe had splashed out HK $ 40 million for a set of pale pink boxlike 3 storey villa at JC Castle ( named after action movie star Jackie Chan), an upmarket walled and gated Estate with gardens, a clubhouse and a swimming pool in Tai Po developed by Albert Yeung Sau-shing's Emperor Group, Yeung being one of the island's most colorful tycoons who had been repeatedly linked to organised crime. Subsequently Bona's bodyguards twice assaulted reporters outside her Hong Kong home but no action was taken against them either. In 2011 HK City University spokeswoman Karen Cheng confirmed that Robert and Grace Mugabe turned up in the University for Bona's graduation ceremony, and had their moments with their daughter " just like all the other parents". Except of course all the other parents didn't have Security Protection from the HK Government.
The evening was spent in the Boma Restaurant, reputedly the best (also the most expensive) place to sample the local Zimbabwean cuisine : BBQ buffet of game meat like Kudu, crocodile, impala, guinea fowl, as well as regular meat like beef, pork, fish and chicken. The specialty here is actually warthog fillet. We were urged to try the Mopani worms, a local delicacy. It's in fact a caterpillar, nearly as long as a finger and as thick as a cigar, weight by weight it's said to contain three times as much protein as beef. I tried one and it's the most revolting thing I've ever eaten ! I've tried larva, grasshopper and scorpion before, but they were crispy fried, crunchy so you can pretend you're eating crisps. But this worm tasted muddy, it's soft and squeezy, and stuff oozed out when I bit into it.......I couldn't spit it out fast enough !
The next day we were to return to Zambia to catch a flight to Namibia, when we got word Port Health wanted to check our Yellow Fever certificates. " You all had Yellow Fever vaccination done ?" Everybody nodded, " And you all have your certificate with you ?" 4 hands shot up. "NO, we were told to get the shot but we weren't told to bring the cert ! " Not wanting to run the risk of leaving 4 members behind, Kitty our team leader proceeded to do what Chinese are best at : making forgeries. 4 Yellow Fever certs belonging to employees of the travel agency were faxed from the Hong Kong office, Kitty carefully blotted out the original names and put in new ones. " They did have the shots so it's not really lying" Kitty kept telling herself to ease her conscience.
We walked across the bridge to the Immigration Checkpoint, where there's already a longish line consisting mainly of women laden with heavy baskets. They were the cross border traders. Africa has a huge, predominantly female informal economy, estimated to represent one-third of the continent's GDP. They deal mostly in crop products, biscuits, sweets, vegetables, clothes, footwear and blankets. However their days might be numbered as the government is contemplating roping in these informal traders for the purpose of taxation. I recognized a few faces in the crowd." I saw you dancing in the Boma last night, you're very good !" They were the Amakwezi dancing girls " No work today ?" " Well, works starts at 6 this evening, so meanwhile we're doing this " They giggled. I don't know why people think Africans are lazy !? Certainly not the women, African women are some of the hardest working people I've come across.
A few baboons lurked about, causing unease in the HK group. The Zimbabwean girls laughed " They won't be a problem once we cross over to Zambia" Apparently baboons are a delicacy in Zambia so are killed immediately upon sight by the locals.
Namibia was wonderful, clean and orderly, almost German (laugh). In Windhoek we stopped at a restaurant for lunch. As I opened the door to the Ladies I was surprised by a beautiful half naked girl drying her white blouse under the hand dryer machine, surrounded by several equally beautiful young girls all in white blouses, black pencil skirts and 5 inch heels. " I spilled coffee on my blouse, and we're so late for a publicity shot already" the drying girl answered my quizzical look " Who are you girls, you're all so gorgeous !" " Thank you, we're the 15 finalist of the Miss Namibia Beauty Contest, there're more of us in the lobby" "Are you girls ready yet ? " Their minder poked his head round the door, he was getting really impatient. We caught up with the finalists later after their official shots and had some pictures taken with them. The jinx was on me and I found I lost all the many pictures I took in this trip after I got back home, the few I posted in this blog were taken of me by other members of the group and thereby preserved. Fortunately I've the habit of reading the local newspapers wherever I travel, and this was in the day's paper :
