I grew up in the real Africa, the raw, wild and beautiful Africa, the Africa romanced in the minds of those day-dreaming about adventure.
Most of my memories start when I was about three years old, travelling up north by steam train. The train puffed through the spray of the Victoria Falls and headed on in the direction of the Congo. After four days we arrived in Mufulira, a Copperbelt town situated on the edge of the Congo pedicle in Northern Rhodesia (Zambia).
On Copperbelt towns, the Africans outnumbered the Europeans by many thousands. Over weekends the glittering night sky was filled with the rhythmic tribal thumping of skin drums made from hollowed logs. When the drumming stopped, the night pulsed with silence. Those were the days when the strains of ‘In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight’, regularly came over the radio, and I felt the thrill and exuberance of living in Central Africa.
We were in Mufulira a few years before we went on to Lusaka the capital. The most appealing factor to many who have made Lusaka their home is the superb climate. Warm sunny summers, interspersed with cooling thunderstorms and mild winters with loads of sunshine.
Like nowhere else on earth, Zambia offers a fabulous assortment of waterfalls, cascades, rapids, cataracts and flumes on its many waterways.
I was quite young when I used to go crocodile hunting with my brother. We used to get up at about 4am and venture off to Kafue River and watch the crocodiles snoozing at the waters edge. Bam! my brother would harpoon them and the poor things were then skinned. We would also go swimming and get chased by hippos who are very territorial and will aggressively defend their territory.
Kids will be kids!
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