Gilded: Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

Cascading Victoria Falls, from the Zimbabwe side

I’d come to the town of Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, hoping to experience some of the Real Zimbabwe–the Zimbabwe that I’d heard of from my clients at the human rights NGO and in the news. Victoria Falls, however, was not this; on the contrary I found it highly sterilized and took away the impression that it must be example of what tourism can do in isolation within a country which is otherwise in the throes of economic and political peril.

We would be spending 3 nights in Vic Falls, which has branded itself to tourists as an adrenaline capital. Any number of activities could be pursued: adrenaline junkies can do a gorge swing, bungee jump, white water rafting trip down the Zambezi River, and much more. Other, comparatively tamer, activities are walks out to the falls, horse back safaris, elephant back safaris, and a lion walk–a one hour excursion with captive lions in a small outdoor park, where you can play and stroll with 6-18 month old lion cubs. There are river cruises, microlight flights, and helicopter tours over the falls as well. In short, there is no shortage of things to occupy one’s time, so long as the Barclays ATM in town kept on spitting out US dollars (interestingly, all of the ATMs give out US$, so long as they have been recently restocked).

These activities came at, what I thought, were steep prices–horse riding, for example, was $75 for 2-3 hours; I’d paid $30 less in Uganda and $15 less in Malawi. The lion walk was $95, though most activity shops charged $115, increasing their profit margins. Elephant safaris were over $100, as was the bungee jump; half a day of white water rafting would set you back $140 (but could be negotiated down to $120). Thus a 3 day packed itinerary, including food at the tourist restaurants, could easily set one back $500 or more, excluding accommodation. Unfortunately for the budget traveler, besides these activities, there is not much to do in the town that does not include spending hoards of cash.

With the Zimbabwean currency abandoned due to its hyper inflation, you can only pay for these activities in US dollars or, with a bit of haggling, South African rand. I hadn’t encountered any activity shop that had a credit card machine. All of the shops list prices in dollars and rand as well. To my surprise the local Spar, a chain of South African supermarkets, was well stocked and goods were priced fairly cheaply. An imported Italian beer, Peroni, could be purchased for $1.50; the same beer over the border in South Africa would cost at least double that, likely more. Food was inexpensive in the shops as well, so I had hardly needed the bag of groceries I’d brought over from Zambia. I’d only ever heard of empty shelves and food shortages. This was definitely not the Zimbabwe I was expecting.

There were signs, though, that it was not far away. Our campsite was surrounded by electric fences and had guards on watch 24 hours a day. Street touts approached me at every opportunity when I left the gated compound, offering to sell me their now disused currency as a souvenir. For some countries, their national currency is a symbol of pride and prestige. In Zimbabwe, the currency is being sold to tourists as a symbol of a failed economic system, in the hopes that the profit could pay for food. I bought a 100 trillion Zimbabwean dollar note for about 90 cents, and was later informed that I was about 45 cents worse off for it. So the sale of the Zimbabwean currency offered at least a 100% profit margin; not a bad business venture for the otherwise unemployed.

Elsewhere, well-spoken children, smartly dressed in clean clothing, begged for food and clothing, or offered to trade wooden carvings or Zimbabwean dollars for my clothing and shoes. I’d recently driven through some of the poorest parts of Eastern and Southern Africa, where villagers live in the simplest huts made of clay and mud and rely on subsistence farming for survival. On the face of it, these children who approached me on the streets seemed much better off than the cheery village children I’d met in Uganda, Malawi, or Tanzania, who never once asked me for anything when I passed through.

It was apparent to me that very little of the vast swathes of tourism money brought into town was benefiting the town residents. It also, given the state of both the economy and the local governmental leadership, is unlikely that any ordinary Zimbabwean would be able to set up a business venture to participate in the cash pinata that tourism provides. This gross dichotomy, between the amount of money being poured into the town on a daily basis, and the very apparent poverty levels of not only this town but the entire country, did not sit well with me. I decided to resist in perpetuating this cycle.

Every gallon, a wonder of the world

Thus when our tour group was taken to a $20 all you can eat buffet dinner at a kitsch 4-star hotel, I refrained and ate a simple dinner which I’d concocted out of ingredients purchased at the local market. I ate my lunches that way as well, when others went for pizzas at the tourist restaurants. Others on the tour would have spent hundreds of dollars each day riding elephants, or jumping into the Zambezi gorge; but for me it just didn’t feel right to spend this much money on myself, especially in a place like Zimbabwe where gainful employment is but a dream for the overwhelming majority of the population.

So, although slightly boring in comparison, I spent my days hiking out to see the natural beauty of cascading Victoria Falls, or wandering around town chatting to the children.

With my limited time here, I wanted to pay respect to a state whose people I knew, from firsthand experience, had suffered greatly. I am a fan of adventure activities, but there would be a time and place for it. While in Zimbabwe I wanted to appreciate the country for what it was, not for how it could entertain me.