Trip to Victoria Falls

How many languages, currencies, and international border crossings did your last family road trip entail? How many potholes, unpaved roads, and police checkpoints did you encounter? Trekking across Africa by pickup is an adventure all its own! Bur it was worth the effort to experience the world’s largest waterfall together with those closest to me.

Our family of seven left home at 5:00 on Thursday morning, with a full tank and extra diesel in a jerrycan due to the fuel crisis. Thanks to the efforts of friends in researching local sources, I filled up twice that day, in the towns where diesel was available, for $7 and $12 per gallon. We crossed our first international border, drove across the neighboring country, and slept in a motel while waiting for the next border crossing to open at 6:00 a.m.

On the second day of our journey, we traversed a pothole-ridden, remote corner of our own nation, then by 4pm had completed our third border crossing, into our destination country. God helped me stay calm as I followed Google Maps through its bustling capital city after dark and spent hours searching for lodging along the next stretch of rural highway. He finally used a stranger at a gas station to show us the motel where we gratefully crashed into bed at midnight.

The biggest challenge on our third day was hundreds of miles of unpaved roads that left us questioning locals at various points whether we were still on the correct route. The paved road we finally reached was in even worse condition, full of potholes for significant distances. But by God’s grace we arrived safely at our destination AirBnb at 10:00 pm.

As the culmination of our trip, we spent all of Sunday at the majestic Victoria Falls. This marvel of God’s creation that had beckoned us across 1,400 miles was every bit as spectacular as I’d imagined! Unhurriedly, our family strolled along trails to gaze upon various sections of the thundering behemoth and get drenched by the droplets raining from its vaporous plume. We sat in the sun so our clothes could dry as we worshipped the Lord together, then relished a meal at the park’s restaurant. 

During the last few hours of sunlight, most tourists had left, so I was thrilled by solitude for meditation and prayer in front of the mightily rushing river. Lingering alone at twilight between the world-renouned attraction and the statue of David Livingstone who discovered it, I reflected on how much more difficult his journey here was than mine, and on our common passion to proclaim Christ to those who have never heard while exploring the world He created. From my lips flowed Reginald Heber’s hymn:

From Greenland’s icy mountains,
  From India’s coral strand,
Where Afric’s sunny fountains
  Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
  From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
  Their land from error’s chain.

What though the spicy breezes
  Blow soft on Ceylon’s isle,
Though every prospect pleases,
  And only man is vile?
In vain with lavish kindness
  The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen, in his blindness,
  Bows down to wood and stone.

Can we, whose souls are lighted
  With wisdom from on high,
Can we to men benighted
  The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! O salvation!
  The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth’s remotest station
  Has learned Messiah’s name.

Waft, waft, ye winds, His story;
  And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea of glory,
  It spreads from pole to pole;
Till o’er our ransomed nature,
  The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
  In bliss returns to reign.