Moh-see oh-ah Toon-yah – ‘The Smoke That Thunders’ – is the Tonga name of the world’s most majestic waterfall, which David Livingston named Victoria Falls after Queen Victoria when he came upon it during his famous explorations into Africa.
The Victoria Falls is roughly twice the height of North America’s Niagara Falls and well over twice its width.
The falls are the central attraction of the town of Victoria Falls, which has evolved over many decades into an international tourist destination serviced by a commercial airport and a great number of international hotels designed to cater for every need, from the stately and historic five-star Victoria Falls Hotel, with its rolling lawns and panoramic view of the railway bridge that connects Zim-bah-bweh to Zambia, high above the Zam-bay-zee River, to a four-star casino resort and secluded bespoke bush lodges.
A few decades ago, our good friends Barry and Marina invited us to join them on a four-night weekend at Victoria Falls. They were both born and raised in Rhodesia (Zim-bah-bweh) and had lifelong savings left in the country that were rapidly devaluing, so they had generously decided to fund the excursion which, in SA Rand terms, was by then, virtually insignificant.
We flew into Vic Falls directly from Johannesburg and booked into the Kingdom Hotel, whereupon Barry gave me one million dollars with which to pay our way. In those days, one million Zim-bah-bweh dollars comprised many wads of five-hundred-dollar notes. In one fell swoop we had become instant millionaires!
Anyone and everyone that has had the good fortune to know Barry will agree that he is a fearless reveller of note. I’ve certainly never met his equal. In short, when you go to town with Barry, you had better lift your game and prepare for a marathon. I recall the management team back in Johannesburg being invited to our CEO’s trout estate in Dullstroom one weekend. A few days before our departure, Barry took seriously ill and was immediately transferred to hospital, so consequently had to withdraw from the excursion.
Barry was an immensely popular member of our team and he was missed by everyone as we made our way to Dullstroom on the Friday afternoon.
It was thus with considerable surprise when Barry arrived on the farm late on the Saturday night, having booked himself out of hospital a couple of hours earlier and driven to join us.
We were well into the party when he arrived and it wasn’t long (and a couple of whiskies later) before he challenged one of our colleagues to a game of dominoes, the loser of which would have to swim the trout dam closest to the farmhouse. I should mention that it was midwinter and the water was ice cold.
Barry lost!
Without a moment’s hesitation he stripped down, plunged into the dam, and swam to the other side to the wild applause of everyone.
Looking back, I should have known the Victoria Falls weekend was going to be a good one.
We dined out at the exclusive Makuwakuwa restaurant, and then again at the Safari Lodge’s Boh-mah restaurant. We took tea, scones, and cucumber sandwiches on the lawns of the Victoria Falls Hotel. We walked the footpaths and observation decks of the falls.
We chartered a helicopter and flew over Moh-see oh-ah Toon-yah. We were awestruck by the sight of the falls in full flood, the billowing clouds of mist rising high into the sky from the depths of the drop of more than a hundred metres below as the spectacular rainbow spread wide across the gorge.
We played roulette in the casino adjoining our hotel until the early hours of the morning, Barry on one side of the table and me on the other. We had hundreds of thousands of dollars to burn and we made every effort to do just that.
The casino tables were busy, mainly with foreign tourists, and the atmosphere relaxed, playful, and entertaining.
Lend me half a bar, old boy, Barry called out across the table in an exaggerated English public-school accent.
Of course, dear boy, I replied similarly, to the amusement of the punters, as I threw a couple of bundles of five-hundred-dollar bills across to him, which he deftly caught in two hands.
Eventually Sunday evening arrived and with it four pretty exhausted folk who had simply had an absolute ball. And despite our valiant efforts, we had been unable to spend all of the dollars we had started out with.
We had slept most of that afternoon and had arranged to meet in the foyer before going off to dinner. Ann and I arrived fifteen minutes early, and in order to pass the time I decided to sit down at a poker card gaming machine to lose a few dollars more.
Everything seemed to be going to plan for about ten minutes when with no warning at all, a royal flush dropped onto the screen. The lights lit up and the bells started ringing. I had just won the local jackpot, a quarter of a million Zim-bah-bweh dollars!
People gathered around excitedly and many burst into applause. I on the other hand, was just starting to wonder what we would do with all this valueless money when the other three members of our gang, who had approached the machine to see what the commotion was all about, all cried out in unison behind me, Oh, no!
And so, the single biggest win of my gambling ‘career’ turned out to be a bit of a toil. Among all the splendour, bright lights, and opulence of the Victoria Falls enclave are many hundreds of very poor folk, many of whom can be found begging on the streets of the town for just enough to buy a loaf of bread or a cool drink.
The following morning, on the day of our departure, Barry suggested we go for a walk through the town. It was during this walk that he started to dole out our excess Zim banknotes to the many little barefoot children who started to appear from nowhere as we proceeded down the streets. It wasn't long before we had distributed our winnings and finally made our way to the airport.
Inlaid in the floor of the departure lounge of the Victoria Falls International Airport, at a set of doors that provide access to the airside apron from the departure hall, was a grass floor mat with the letters ‘OHMS’ neatly and boldly imprinted in it. Barry noticed a uniformed security officer wandering the floor and greeted him in Shona. The officer seemed to me to be quite senior given the array of ribbons and medals he wore proudly all across his left chest.
The exchange was cordial and friendly, and the officer beamed in response to being addressed in his own language.
Barry led the officer to the floor mat and pointed. Do you perhaps know what the ‘OHMS’ stands for? he asked.
The officer considered the imprint for a short while before turning to him and declaring confidently, I think it is something to do with electricity.