War with Mighty Waters

The phone jolted me from my lazy Sunday afternoon slumber, beep beep and I groggily answered, expecting the usual mundane inquiries about church events or maybe even a wrong number. It was Reverend Jane on the line, her voice vibrated with energy and excitement. "Kaoli, my dear, we're going with you on an adventure to the Victoria Falls with Julius!" she exclaimed as if I had already agreed to go.

The legendary Victoria Falls I heard was a marvel of nature so grand, it seemed like Mother Nature herself decided to show off her waters. I googled it and saw it, wow, it was a colossal curtain of water tumbling down like a waterfall on drugs, enticing travelers from every corner of the globe to come and bask in its sheer awesomeness. And here I was, living in Livingstone, the very backyard of this epic wonder, yet somehow I had managed to dodge it. I confess, I hadn't even taken a virtual stroll to see it online until now.

Glancing at my watch, I realized it was thirteen hours, the customary time for my Sunday relaxation after church. Every fiber of my being, yearned to decline, to luxuriate in the tranquillity of my day off. Yet, against my better judgment, the word "okay" slipped from my lips. I chastised myself for my impulsiveness as I hastily grabbed a small purse and hurried to rendezvous with "Rev," my affectionate nickname for Reverend Jane.

As we saw the waters we had a thirst for adventure and we embarked on a journey to explore the majestic Victoria Falls. This was what had drawn many tourists to stand in awe as 500 million liters of water cascaded every minute. I had heard of tales of its awe-inspiring beauty. Excited yet nervous, we stepped onto the unfamiliar terrain, feeling the mist from the falls kiss our skins. It was September – the time when the mighty Victoria Falls dials down its thunderous roar to a gentle trickle, sending delicate droplets cascading into the canyon below. With a sense of excitement coursing through our veins, we embarked on our journey, venturing into the upper reaches of the falls and daring to tread where few had gone before – the Zimbabwean side. It was a joyous occasion as we joined the ranks of explorers before us, both locals and tourists alike, we navigated the slippery stones with the grace of acrobats, giggling like mischievous children as we staggered and wobbled on stones. It was a scene straight out of a humorous comedy, with our antics drawing laughter and incredulous stares from young people. I could practically hear their silent protests: "Why aren't we the ones having all the fun?"

But all play and no rest makes for weary adventurers, and soon enough, age, hunger and thirst began to gnaw at our spirits. With a prayer, we surrendered to the call of nature, splashing our faces with the cool, refreshing waters of the falls. We found solace in prayer because these waters had ancient myths surrounding them. It was believed that a snake called Munyami lived in these water and we sought protection from one greater than Munyami - Jehovah God. Exhausted from our adventure, a small group of us made the unanimous decision to retreat back to solid ground and abandon our journey to reach the Zimbabwean side. Far on the horizon, I could make out some people, still endeavoring to reach God knows where. To this day, I still remain uncertain where the others were headed and where our own journey might have led.

As we followed Julius along the unfamiliar path, our group exchanged uneasy glances, questioning our decision to deviate from the familiar route we used earlier. Julius, however, showed unwavering confidence in the safety of our chosen path, reassured us with his bold declarations. "Don't worry, this route is safe." As we arrived at the rocky outcrop where land met water, we hesitated, feeling the weight of uncertainty. Reluctantly, we relinquished our personal belongings, entrusting them to Julius who like a star had already crossed to shore.

Leading the group, I stepped forward, my confidence bolstered by my ability to swim. Reverend Jane’s brother, Julius, offered his steady hand as a guide, his encouraging words instilling a sense of determination within me. Just as I was about to embark on the crossing, my attention was drawn to a figure across the river—an Indian man with a turban, seated with his family. Initially, his presence had gone unnoticed, but now his unexpected interjection unsettled me. "You can cross, concentrate" his voice echoed.

Dismissing his words with a shake of my head, I focused on the task at hand. With a graceful leap, I propelled myself towards the rocky shoreline, my movements’ fluid like a ballet dancer  on tiptoe. But as my foot made contact with the rock, a sudden slip sent me careening into the depths of the Zambezi River. In that heart-stopping moment, Julius's gasp faltered under the weight of my falling body, and I plunged into the cool embrace of the water below, engulfed by the swirling currents of the Zambezi.

Splash, I landed in the water and descended into the unknown depth of the Zambezi River. The water enveloped me with a circling embrace. I felt a fleeting sense of weightlessness accompanied by a brief moment of disorientation and shock. I was enveloped by a liquid embrace of water that was moving in a strong circular movement and it was dragging me deep deep in the abyss. Frantically, I fought the relentless pull of the water, and I kicked my right leg causing gravity to pull me up. The circular movement of the current though, had a mind of its own, and it spanned me up like a leaf caught in a whirlwind. I was pushed up and I opened my mouth to breathe but I felt something jump from my mouth. I had no idea what it was but before I could think the waves hit me and pushed me toward the Victoria Falls drop. I remembered my training in swimming and I drew upon my reserves of knowledge and I tried to fight the waves but I failed.

As I struggled on the water's surface, I grappled to understand what manner of waters these were. Initially they appeared serene but they now bore down on me with unrelenting force, pushing me like a twig ensnared in a raging current. Despite my attempts to resist, the water pushed me and I shouted "bama" (mother) in a feeble attempt to summon my mother's help but it was just me and the water fighting each other. For a while a violent fight ensued between me and the waters. I used crawl and breast stroke but they could not work against these water. Desperate I grasped at a slippery rock, only to be forcibly displaced once more by the relentless current. Descending deeper into despair, I felt hope slipping away until a sudden force propelled me from the water's grasp. With closed eyes, I cried out, "eh Munyami has caught me." When I dared to open my eyes, there was an Indian man in a turban, looking like he was an angel that had just stepped out of heaven and he instructed me with authority, “don’t look left or right, close your eyes and follow me." Though paralyzed by fear, I obeyed, allowing this mysterious saviour to guide me.

How he liberated me from the clutches of those wicked waters remains a mystery but I found myself on familiar terrain, land.  Tears of gratitude cascaded down my cheeks, a testament to the overwhelming relief that flooded my soul. In a heart-warming display of affection, Rev Jane came running towards me, arms outstretched as if I were long dead but returned to the land of the living. I smiled weakly, and she chuckled sarcastically, "Hey, looks like you lost a tooth." It dawned on me then, that what had flown out of my mouth during the struggle was actually my tooth. I now sported a toothless grin. I must have struck my head on a rock during the fall into the waters and the water swallowed my tooth. Yet, as Rev Jane embraced me once more, her warmth and comfort served as a soothing balm which helped me to forget my toothless grin. It was a poignant reminder of the invaluable solace found in human connection amid life's trials.

"Let's go and see where he rescued you," she said urgently. I huddled low, squatting as I walked, feeling the tight throbbing pain radiating from the area around my waist where I had been squeezed during the rescue. Together we approached the scene, our eyes widening in amazement. Before us lay a rocky outcrop, jutting from the water's surface, offering a sanctuary for anything that found itself submerged in those treacherous depths. We hurried toward the unnamed hero, now at ease with his family. "Thank you," I uttered gratefully. "It was nothing," he replied humbly, explaining his profession as a paramedic and how it had equipped him to intervene in such perilous situations. As he spoke, the realization dawned upon me—this was no mere coincidence but a divine plan unfolding before our eyes. The Reverend Jane and I exchanged a look of profound wonder, acknowledging the hand of God in orchestrating this awe-inspiring rescue.

That day, I returned home nursing, a sore waist and still grappling with memories of battling the raging water. For weeks thereafter, I found myself locked in a relentless struggle with the turbulent currents in my sleep. Day after day, I would recline to sleep; only to find myself dreaming of my raging fight with the waters of the Zambezi River in slow motion. Everything lay clear before me, as crisp as paper, until the moment he rescued me, then the scene abruptly ceased. Frustrated, exhausted by the turmoil, on one occasion, I finally sought refuge in the prayers of our church Bishop – Bishop Mweemba. Though I harboured doubts in his brief yet profound prayers, when I slept that night, the conflict with the mighty waters of Victoria Falls ceased, leaving me stunned upon waking the next morning. After that day, the Lord had triumphed over the waters and the dreams ceased forever.