My wife didn’t believe me. When gazing at an astounding vista — the staggering Drakensberg escarpment for example, or a kaleidoscopic sunset over the Karoo plains — I’d say to her: “But it just ain’t Kariba”. It became a running joke that usually earned me a punch in the arm. Then I took her there.
I’d been to Kariba on various occasions, from a tot on family vacations, to an adult embarking on fishing expeditions or assignment for magazines. Most of the time I’d drive there along the Harare-Chirundu road, which culminated in a winding switchback down the escarpment. Sometimes I’d fly in a light aircraft
