Victoria Falls, Out in Africa, part 2

Victoria Falls, October 28, 2012

Our little group arrives at the colonial Stanley and Livingstone.  As usual at Zimbabwean hotels, we are greeted with a cool washcloth and a glass of chilled fruit juice.The clerk sits at an enormous wooden desk with depictions of the famous 1871 meeting between the two explorers -- "Dr, Livingstone, I presume?" -- adorning the walls.

As Becky and I sign the guest book, the clerk says, "Are you sisters?"

My heart lodges in my throat. Homosexual acts are punishable by death in Zimbabwe. But the clerk looks nice, and I hope she will not create trouble for us.

"No." I make eye contact with her. "We're married."

She looked baffled.

"To each other," I add.

"Oh, that is good," she nods. "It is important to find someone you are compatible with."

All right then.

 

The next morning our group drives several miles to one of the seven wonders of the world, Victoria Falls. In the native Lozi language, it is called Mosi Oa Tunya, "Smoke That Thunders." It is spectacular, a mile across with a 100-meter vertical plunge, the largest sheet of falling water in the world.
We are here at the end of the long, hot dry season, so some sections of the falls are dry. In the rainy season, there is so much spray from the cataract that visitors may not see much. An early thunderstorm 5 days ago has swollen the Zambezi River, giving us an ideal experience. Plumes of spray shoot up into the sky, creating rainbows. As we stroll along a path toward the loudest thunder, mist blows into our faces and rains down on us. We're told that this is the only place on earth where it "rains" 24/7/365.

Instead of the parched, drought-stricken African scrub we've been seeing during our whole first week in Zimbabwe, we are breathing in the humid air of a lush tropical mini-rain forest. Giant split leaf philodendrons, palm trees, and monkey vines twist through dense vegetation, reminding us of the Costa Rican rain forest.

 

Gary, our leader,  originally from Zimbabwe, wants to take all three couples' pictures in front of the "kissing tree." John and Louise kiss in front of the tree. Then Becky and I take their place. My heart is pounding. Is a same-sex kiss a capital crime? Are we crazy to risk this? I glance around. There are no officials in sight. Remembering the friendly clerk at the Stanley and Livingstone and with our travel buddies present, I put my arms around Becky. She puts her arms around me, and we kiss. 

The big smoke and thunder are over at Victoria Falls, 100 yards away, but that kiss feels huge, our own personal Mosi Oa Tunya.