African Odyssey: Report 9

Arriving to Victoria Falls, the biggest tourist mecca in Southern Africa, felt like making a landing on an alien planet. The hip hostel bar, full of white patrons who sat transfixed watching a rugby match on tv, appeared to be a mass of zombies. How could they know our shock: in the last 48 hours, we had seen only one other white person, in a passing car? Masvingo, Zimbabwae, population, 112,374, was very different than this little corner of backpacker "heaven" (hell?).

It all began two days before, with our arrival in Great Zimbabwe National Park. The $15 entrance fee seemed steep, even if it was a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the greatest in Southern Africa, according to sources. The $3 for the tour guide, however, was the greatest value in all of Africa.

We were told we'd get the best tour guide, Tino. He proceeded to wow us with his great knowledge of history and culture, as well as his friendliness. Who knew that the king had hundreds of wives and concubines, to whom he could call out by number from the top of his hilltop palace complex. "Number 20, come here now!" Or that in Zimbabwe, if you want to marry a woman, you must first pay her family a dowry or "lubalo" of anywhere from $5,000 to $100,000 (U.S. dollars!). Tino is still paying off his wife's $8,000 lubolo six years after the wedding. This in a country where starvation was not uncommon as recently as 2008.

After our tour of the Great Zimbabwe Ruins, we were so impressed by Tino that we asked him to go have lunch before we left town. Little did we know that the invitation would end over an empty bottle of rum at 6 am with Tino, his cousin, and his uncle. From grocery store to bar, dance hall to outdoor bbq, we experienced a day with the common Zimbabwaen.

First, it was happy hour at the local bar, near the bus depot. It was payday for teachers, so far too much of their monthly pay draw of $160 disappeared over suds as they hollered with friends at leopards chasing after poor antelopes on the National Geographic channel. It is a strange sense of irony watching footage of African animals via an American channel via a satellite in space, all back to a tv in a bar in Africa.

Next was my personal favorite, Bar Eden. They sells Cokes and beer out of the main shop, while a outdoor area next door lets patrons bring their own meat to cook, all while blasting Congolese music videos over a projector screen. Our personal chef, Thomas, made a fire, cooked our chicken and veggies, and cleaned up. When Chris handed him a $5 tip for over 3 hours of service, he clapped his hands in appreciation.

Finally, at the Liquids bar, I turned to Chris and realized: I had never been in such a foreign place in my entire life. Chris and I were the only foreigners in the bar, and the only white people. I had never heard a single song being played before. I didn't recognize people's dance moves. I had never drank the beer we were drinking. I didn't recognize the videos playing on the tv. The locals talked with a different accent and intonation. I was out of my element, but thanks to the company of Chris and the hospitality of Tino, I was completely at ease and enjoying the nightlife of Masvingo, Zimbabwae. Population, 112,374, plus 2 very out of place yet at home Americans.

Matthew-