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Kareen's Yoga by Kareen Zebroff
It is not to be believed; I am actually in Africa, sitting cross-legged on a barstool
in Livingstone. Not in a bar, of course, but meditating open-eyed by the ebony
rail of a wooden deck high above the tranquil waters of God’s highway, the
mighty Zambezi River.
In the rosy reflection of the evening-sky, the splendour of the scene before me
is highly conducive to contemplation as a tribe of blue-balled vervet monkeys
gambols in the woods, allowing us generous glimpses into their family life. A
huge croc grumbles while basking in the last warming rays of the sun before it
slips into the waves. A hippo, the most dangerous of all, snorts and makes flirtatious
eyes at me as it lumbers up the river path past the Natural Mystic Lodge.
On the opposite shore, a majestic herd of 25 free-roaming elephant matriarchs
walk with slow deliberation towards their resting place, all the while carefully
surrounding the trotting babies to keep them safe from predators and the late-adolescence
male banished a good mile back. Never before have I felt such a profound sense
of peace as at this enchanting retreat.
In the early-morning meditation, the Zambezi seems to be lying still and shiny
as Thoreau’s pond, before it throws itself dramatically off Victoria Falls
a few miles further down. The recharged sun makes a golden promise of yet another
perfect day as I perform my sun salutations in rhythm to the soft cooing of doves,
so representative to me of Africa.
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| Zambia has 11 million inhabitants from 73 different tribes...
each has its own language... despite their appalling 80 percent poverty rate,
the first thing that strikes one about the Zambians is how cheerful and friendly
they are. |
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A neighbouring rooster joins my quiet chants with its muted crowing, insects clack
with gentle tick-tick sounds, cicadas make rasping music, exotic birds cheer and
twitter as they flit through the dense mopane forest, and honeybees hum contentedly
as they search for the sweet pollen of this equatorial Garden of Eden.
We had come to Lusaka a week earlier to visit the gorgeous, two-toothed little
strawberry blonde awaiting us at the airport in our daughter’s arms. She
and her husband had already spent three years in Tanzania, two in Uganda and now
half a year here in Zambia, trying to find water and build wells, writing children’s
books on water hygiene and HIV/AIDS, and helping this developing country with
their particular expertise in hydrogeology and health education. They love it
here and have just committed to another year.
Lusaka, located on a high plateau and therefore cooler by 10 degrees than Livingstone,
was warm and humid on the day of our arrival, the rainy season having started
only three days earlier after weeks and weeks of a stifling 30 degrees at night
under airless mosquito netting.
A 20-minute drive past primitive red-earthed suburbs, where Zambia’s poor
take 10-15 years of scrimping and saving to build their tiny two-room houses brick
by expensive brick, takes us into Lusaka proper. Somewhat surprisingly, it seems
to be quite a pretty city with long elegant avenues shaded by huge trees and riotous
flowering shrubs in front of government buildings. In the actual downtown area
there is little beauty, however, as garbage is often dumped by the side of the
road under the congested bridges, where it is picked over by colourfully clad
urchins right next to the unassuming native market.
Along the roads many an exquisite Nefertiti glides by with graceful gait, carrying
huge loads of produce with apparent ease on her head, a baby napping in a kitange
on her back. More than likely she has been walking many wearying miles since well
before dawn, but it all looks deceivingly picturesque; a tableau of elongated
silhouettes seeming to dance in the shimmering heat. An intense sun scorches the
country even during the rainy season, only momentarily interrupted by drenching
tropical storms that rarely last an hour, let alone a whole day.
Lusaka houses a milling tenth of Zambia’s 11 million inhabitants from 73
different tribes, seven of them major. Each has its own language, but most people
in the service industry speak an official lilting English. The monetary unit of
Zambia is the kwacha and 4,000 are worth $1 Canadian. At least once a week most
mzungus (whites) spend up to 400,000 kwatchas in one single food shopping expedition
at the supermarket, more, if liquor is included. A native maid, nanny or guard
may possibly earn as much as that for one month.
And yet, despite their appalling 80 percent poverty rate, the first thing that
strikes one about the Zambians is how cheerful and friendly they are, how good-naturedly
they take the constant rejection of their eagerly proffered wares at market or
traffic stops, and how dignified and handsome a race they are. (To be continued).
Kareen Zebroff’’s classic, revised book, The ABC of Yoga (Foulsham
title: A Gentle Introduction to Yoga), as well as her Yoga-Over-40 video, may
be ordered from her website www.kareenzebroff.com
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