Zimbabwe, Africa

Every continent has a something - some sort of feeling or... hard to describe sort of thing that describes it. Europe - culture. North America - money. Australia - populated by criminals. South America - fantastic bottoms.

Africa's got something primal and dark. It's got power. Africa's where it all started for us humans, and there's something there that kind of feels like home, deep down underneath it all. Like... this is where we belong.



Victoria Falls is a place like no other. It doesn't have the sheer volume of Niagara, or the incredible height of Angel Falls, but it has a majesty of it's own that is a mix of the two. The water seems to meander down the rock face in a way that is less urgent than other waterfalls, but somehow more inevitable. I find myself making little or no sense in trying to describe the place, because I end up speaking in contradictions.

You should go.

So, we stand there, watching Victoria Falls fall, in awe at the beautiful rainbow, generally just enjoying the day, when an African man accosts us. He's about 5'3", wearing little besides a loincloth, and is decidedly out of place (that's not the general apparel of the inhabitants of that part of Zimbabwe). He's maybe 30, maybe 50 (hard to tell) and he's remarkably fit. He places himself about a foot away from me (well within my personal space) and just stands there.

I've learned, in my travels, to take things with a grain of salt, so I decide to wait him out.

It turns out that this is the right thing to do. After a couple of minutes, he grins, showing us some exceptionally bright white teeth. "Jambo, mzungu!" he began. "Today, my friend, you almost die. Be very careful and you'll be fine." Then he hands me a Zippo and a newspaper, tips me a wink, and walks a way.

We make very little of it, being used to such strangeness in our travels. The zippo made it's way into my right jeans pocket, and the newspaper got tucked in my backpack and off we went, driving west. We'd heard about a park that had lots of wild animals that we want to see.

Driving in Africa is quite the experience. There are roads, but they're really more of a suggestion than anything else. The jeep that we'd bought upon arrival in Africa was an absolute joy to drive, so we tended to move at quite the pace, just off of the road. Let us just say that a good portion of our three hour drive was not spent with the wheels in direct contact with the ground. That's what travel is for.

So, we were making quite the ruckus when we happened upon a herd of rhinos.

The thing about wild animals is you never know how they're going to react in any given situation. We weren't being quiet, and they were hidden by a little hill - we barelled over the hill almost smack dab into the youngest of the herd. This immediately got us off to a bad start. Within 30 seconds, three rhinos were chasing us, or so we thought.

So, we figure, what's the problem? We're in a vehicle, we can just outrun them, right? But here's the thing; rhinos are fucking fast. Like, scary fast. Like, fucking train barrelling down on you sort of fast, and when you're not on a road, you can't necessarily drive at speed. We were a good half mile from the road, where we would have easily been able to outdistance them, but we could only go about 25 mile an hour. And, well, did I mention three rhinos? Holy shit.

So we drive, and we're zigging and we're zagging, and then we realize something. The rhinos are actually herding us away from the road. They're getting between us and the road, forcing us from safety. I'm not sure if this was a fluke, or if they were just eerily smart rhinos, and I'm not precisely sure what they were going to do once they had fulfilled their obviously murderous urges upon our bodies (my guess was "eat us" but I'm told that rhinos aren't actually carnivores. Let me tell you, they looking real fucking carnivorous when they're trying to kill you).

The driving continues, but it's getting a little more frantic; sharp turns here and there, trying to fool the rhinos, but they're having none of it. They're all up ons the tricks that we try to pull and I'm becoming more and more sure with every second that we're goin to die.

Then I remember the guy from the falls.

I remember shouting at my girlfriend to take the wheel, and I reached back into the back to get the newspaper. I pulled it out and grabbed the zippo from my pocket. After a few attempts, I managed to light the friggin' thing on fire, then directed my girlfriend to steer towards one of the many bushes surrounding us, preferably one not near any other bushes. We got right up close to a bush, and I made a one in a million toss - I managed to throw a burning newspaper out of a jeep travelling at 20 miles per hour, onto a small, dry bush, square on. Thank God for the years I spent in bars throwing darts and playing pool.

The rest, of course, is pretty easy to figure out. The bush lit on fire, the rhinos instinctively went to put it out, and we took the opportunity to scootch around behind them and get back to the road. Then we opened the jeep right up and put some distance between us and them.

This is how the Simpsons, and a little African guy, saved my life.



The rest of the trip was mostly uneventful. The other rhinos were less homicidal (and very cute). Upon our return to Victoria Falls (that's where we were staying) we ended up running into the little African guy again. He tipped me a wink and shot me a wave and then walked away before I could thank him.

There are more things...