A Zigzagging Crack in the Earth

A trip to see the Victoria Falls starts in Lusaka: postcards, guidebooks, coffee table books, and even Zambian currency all grace its image. Every conceivable angle at every time of the day for the last couple of decades has been captured. Artist’s renditions, the falls at sunrise, sundown, up close, from a helicopter, with wildlife, without wildlife, in water color, they are all there. You would think this overdose of images would some how spoil seeing it in person. It doesn’t. The falls truly are an amazing site, stunning in its grandness. A postcard doesn’t make a thundering sound when you pull it off the rack and I have yet to find a guidebook that includes mist. It is a site that requires all of the senses and is truly deserving of being 1 of the 7 wonders of the world. Who brags about seeing the Harbor of Rio De Janerio? Adding to its appeal I was unable to find one wax museum or haunted house in the surrounding area.

The poster child for the falls is famous explorer David Livingstone. Livingstone is credited as being the first European to discover the falls. There is a museum in his honor, every gift shop sells books chronicling his adventures and there are no shortages of plaques telling you where he stood to tie his shoelace or sat down for tea. Based on the various tributes around town, including the town’s namesake one envisions David slashing solo through the deep bush. The statutes and plaques all show the same pose; rugged explorer standing alone, gazing out over un-chartered territory with one leg up triumphantly on a boulder or rock.

This was not the case.

Livingstone traveled with a posse that would rival Jay Z’s. 100’s of Tenzing Norgays joined him over the course of his many expeditions and like Tenzing Norgay the spotlight was only big enough for one. Names like Sir Edmund Hillary and David Livingstone sound better alone. On his final expedition in search of the source of the Nile River he had over 50 men with him. Not only did they carry all of his goods but on his final days as he grew sick they carried him and even made his own hut at each stop. Livingstone wasn’t even in fact the first person to find the falls. Records show that when he arrived back in 1855 Portuguese traders had all ready been around the area and no doubt would have seen the falls. The major difference between Livingstone and others who had preceded him was that he wrote extensively - and much of his work was published. Livingstone also had the financial connections to make such expeditions work. One has to wonder if the Portuguese traders had brought some ink whether we’d be seeing different statues around town. Rodriques, Zambia?

Livingstone issues aside Hil and I had much more important things on our mind for our visit. A week before our trip our friend Ed gave a run down of his time in Livingstone. We were shocked to hear that the highlight of his stay was “hanging out over the falls”. Ed proceeded to recount his experience hanging over the top of the falls including traversing slippery rocks, swimming against the current and finally jumping into a jacuzzi sized pool at the top where you see first hand where all that water goes as a guide holds your ankles. Any doubt we had in Ed’s story diminished when his laptop popped open with 100 plus thumbnails of pics documenting his experience. Sure enough, there he was “hanging out over the falls”. The rest of the week leading up to our trip was spent analyzing the effectives of our front crawl.

A week later we found ourselves taking the early bus to the falls in order to drop 45USD so that we could fill our laptop with pics. I felt assured by the meeting place for the experience; “The Royal Livingstone” a 400USD a night hotel. This quickly diminished when we meet our guide who introduced himself as Eustess which with his accent comes out as “Useless”. An unfortunate name for the man that would be holding our ankles at the top of the falls. Not surprisingly everything went without a hitch and the gap between perceived and actual risk was wider than the falls themselves. The current that we so feared could have been out-swam by anyone who’d achieved a badge in any of the primary colors (including yellow). And though the current is strong at the top, the holding of the ankles is more for your peace of mind than and actual risk of going over.

So here it is, the condensed thumbnail collection:

Whatever happened to Bubbles?



I believe the saying “A picture is worth a 1000 words”. Some are worth more than that. The picture I’ve attached is worth 1002 words. There are two very important words missing: Dawson’s & Creek. In what can only be described as a once in a lifetime opportunity, Hil and I spent the evening watching trashy American television with a 6 month old chimp (wearing diapers).

Making dreams come true was The Chimfunshi Wildlife Orphanage. A one of a kind orphanage and sanctuary for chimpanzees. The whole operation started by accident back in the early 80’s when an orphan chimp was confiscated from poachers in the Congo. The baby chimp was taken to Zambian farmers Dave and Sheila Siddle who had a reputation in the area for nursing sick calves back to health. Twenty years and 3000 plus acres later the Chimfunshi Wildlife orphanage has become a major operation in chimp care. New chimps are brought in every year and the sanctuary vows that they won’t release any of them until they are guaranteed they will be safe. Which means the Congo’s civil war will need to end and baby chimps will have to stop looking cute and cuddly. So, never.

Michael Jackson wasn’t the only one who felt he needed a pet chimp. They get “Bubbles” from all over the world, each with their own story. Chimps like Koko: found in an airport luggage area subdued with vodka and stuffed in a shoebox. Or Madonna who lived the life of luxury with a Senegalese millionaire complete with her own room and a full time maid. The first couple weeks at the sanctuary were difficult for Madonna who was used to bottled water and full course meals. As is the case with most animals (including humans) they grow up, aren’t as cute, eat more food and need more space and learn the word “no”. Jane Goodal even got into the action bringing in a chimp from Tanzania whom locals had trained to work as a bartender at a watering hole in the bush. When Max came in he was a chain smoking alcoholic, but great with the other chimps.

Rounding off the 50+ chimp collection are a handful of dogs, cats and Billy, a one thousand five hundred pound plus orphaned Hippo. Billy was discovered at his dead mom’s body at the tender age of 10 days old. Hil and I tried not to think about the fact that Hippos have the distinction of causing the most deaths of the big five while we peered at him awkwardly squished into his oversize bath tub, 2 feet from the entrance to the Sanctuary.

Because of the size of the operation Chimfunshi relies on donations, school groups and tourists to keep things running. You can observe the chimps at the outskirts of the sanctuary where they have feeding cages bordering natural enclosures of several square kilometers or at an orphanage where younger, newer and trouble making chimps stay. The first thing that struck me was how human they were, which explains why they are the choice animal for Hollywood to send to space and used car dealers see it fit to dress them as clowns to flog 86 Pintos.

Contrary to what we think, animals weren’t put on earth to entertain us and pose for pictures. This lesson is learned on your first visit to the zoo. The same holds true for animals in the wild. By day five of my time in the Serengeti highlights were confined to animals eating and defecating – two jobs they do on a daily basis. Chimfunshi is no exception and feeding time is when the chimps were at their best.

For lunch the chimps are ushered into cages and workers toss a bunch of tomatoes, oranges, cabbage and unidentifiable vegetables in their direction. The whole process begins with high pitched screams from the chimps all lobbying and fighting for their veg of choice and ends looking like the scene of a good high school food fight with scraps of food littered around the cage and on the chimps. We were also able to observe the chimps at the edges of the sanctuary where the guide goes over rehearsed lines with the zeal of a museum lifer. Most interesting is the hierarchy which forms within chimp groups. Before we came a couple of the other male chimps had teamed up on Kambo, the Alpha Male of the group we were watching to gain supremacy. The plan was successful and Kambo disappeared for a week to lick his wounds. Unfortunately the motley crew that remained couldn’t decide on a successor. For the week that Kambo was away mass confusion took over. Several runs at leadership backfired and the result was chimp anarchy. A week later, Kambo returned with a new look. With all of the hair ripped off his arms to display his bulging biceps he systematically pummeled the mutiny one by one. The day we were there Kambo was in fine form. He sat perched in the middle of all the action, hairless arms protruding, looking over the others with the air of a mafia boss that doesn’t need anyone to do his dirty work.

Sadly, the driving force behind Chimfunshi, Dave passed away this past year, leaving the operation of the sanctuary to his wife and their youngest daughter Janet. Because our campsite was Janet’s front yard we spent the evenings becoming acquainted with her and our interest in this Homo Sapien rivaled that of the chimps. The youngest of three with sibling in South Africa and England it seems the pressure is on Janet to keep things running. A month before we showed up her husband, now ex, left because he “couldn’t hack it”. As she divulged her life story on the first night it was hard not to feel a little sorry for her. It became apparent over the course of the evening that there wasn’t much outside of DsTV, chimps and a nightly drink in Chimfunshi life. The first night we overheard her talking excitedly to her mom (who lives 5 minutes away) raving about the movie her nieces and nephews all liked. When she returned from the call she seemed laissez faire as to what we watched, even offering up the remote. Her indifference was exposed at 6:59 when the timer she had set turned to the movie channel showing Pixar’s Madagascar.

Other than her evening program everything in her life is chimps. The degree of this showed night two when we found ourselves back in her living room watching TV. Conversation ranged from her grievances with doctoral students with pages of credentials who have never “wiped the bum of a chimp” to her request to her workers to hold no grudges against a chimp if it mangles her. Though you had no doubt as to her intentions, one had to question how natural it was to have a baby chimp on her lap wearing diapers with eyes glued to another Dawson and Joey break up.

Most affirming for me was the drive back on the last day when you saw the impact the sanctuary has had on the community. The 18km road towards Chimfunshi was full of locals at various check points arranging orders for barrels of tomato’s, cabbage and other assorted chimp food. The whole process was long and tedious and could easily be avoided by buying in town at a way cheaper price, but they insist on doing it this way. In addition to buying directly from their neighbors the sanctuary has several locals employed in meaningful jobs and have even supported one to further his education in primates at Cambridge.

And with people like that, rest assured Bubbles is going to be OK