Stanford Chiwanga
Ah, Victoria Falls. As one arrives in this resort town, they are greeted by the roar of the Zambezi River.
Almost in every street, there are billboards on buildings and shuttles advertising whitewater rafting and other adrenaline rush activities on offer for tourists.
What to do? Summon the courage and head to the Zambezi River for whitewater rafting.
The Zambezi River is not easily accessible. To reach the water, one has to go down a steep gradient into the gorge using a stairway that goes down for hundreds of metres that feel like kilometres.
My colleagues, Eliah Saushoma, Nduduzo Tshuma and I had little trouble going down the hair-raising gorge.
But before doing that, we had to sign indemnity forms that absolved the tour operator, Shearwater of any responsibility in case one of us got injured, or worse, killed. After signing our lives away, we were strapped into lifejackets, had crash helmets clamped onto our heads and handed paddles. The guide told us we had chosen the perfect time as rafting is at its best between July and end of December (low water rafting).
After reaching the bottom of the gorge – the base of the Victoria Falls – we boarded a six-man inflatable raft. The other rafters were Mlamuli Mdlongwa, a Victoria Falls-based journalist, a guy from Harare called Tapiwa and a man from Barcelona called Jesus, yes Jesus.
All of us were rafting virgins, but we were comforted by the fact that our guide, Captain Elliot from Shearwater – a professional with years of experience under his belt was manning the boat. To do this activity, one needs to be 15 years old and above and no swimming experience is needed as life jackets will do the job.
Before we set off, Captain Elliot conducted a swift banter-filled induction, but it was not lost on us that he wanted us to hang onto his every word and take him serious.
During the orientation we had to jump into the water in order for us to get acquainted with the Zambezi River. After the tutorial, we hit the first rapid from the foot of the falls and got to marvel at the beauty and grandeur of the Batoka gorge.
We sailed past the first rapid like a breeze and enjoyed sprays from the rainforest as we were just beneath the famous 110-year-old Victoria Falls Bridge where activities like bungee jumping are conducted.
We then entered the first grade five rapid called Morning Glory which we went through without incident. This $120 activity is child’s play, we thought. Boy, were we wrong. When we went into the second major rapid, named Stairway to Heaven, the waves hammered the inflatable raft from all sides and all angles as they threatened to tip us over. I hung on to the rope that circled the raft as instructed. High water buffeted us and when we went through, I screamed and shouted with pleasure, but my feel-good attitude didn’t last long. When I looked back on my right side the raft was minus two people who had failed to hang onto the rope.
Nduduzo and Mlamuli had fallen into the water! The rapid sucked them down and spit them out twice before we managed to pull them back into the raft. I looked into Nduduzo’s eyes and they were filled with terror that was quickly replaced with relief after he realised that the life jacket he was wearing was never going to let him drown.
Later on I asked him what he experienced in the water. According to him, when he fell into the water, the first thing that he did was to involuntarily drink the Zambezi water as the currents were sucking him down. He swiftly remembered not to panic and curled himself into ball as instructed by Captain Elliot. Before long he surfaced, inhaled the much needed oxygen and was immediately sucked down again. When he suffered, the rapid had carried him a few metres away from the raft, but water continued to flush past him.
The other rapids we encountered were also powerful, but we had learnt our lessons from Nduduzo and Mlamuli — everyone could hang tightly to the boat every time we got into a grade five rapid.
Other scary rapids we hit were The Devil’s Toilet Bowl, Gulliver’s Travels, Midnight Diner and the Gnashing Jaws of Death. We were not allowed to go through the Zambezi River’s most infamous and dangerous rapid called Commercial Suicide. We had to walk around it.
At noon we finished our whitewater rafting adventure as we had signed up for a half-day activity. To get out of the gorge, we had to go up a steep gradient of about 500 metres. It was not an easy climb. So steep was the gradient it was almost vertical. The sweat we released could have filed two buckets. Though there were 19 rapids, we managed to do 10 as we had to rush back to town.
After climbing to the top of the gorge with our legs aching and our knees shaking, we were welcomed by warm Shearwaters’ staff who greeted us with cold beverages and lunch.
We did not hesitate to fill our bellies. When we were done devouring the food with gusto, we were then transported back to town. The journey was swift but that is not what was on our minds. We were proud of ourselves — proud that we had tamed the Zambezi River.