The sun is sinking in the sky and a few hippos are honking at each other in the distance as a croc slides silently into the river. A few kilometres upstream of the Victoria Falls, where the Zambezi River is still slow and peaceful, we’re floating past small islands, sipping on our gin-and-tonics and toasting the palm trees on the shore.
On the dock to send us off were traditional singers, dancers and drummers, decked out in their animal skins. It seemed somehow appropriate, then, that the Scotsman should be decked out in his ‘traditional dress’ too. They were sweet people who endeared themselves by sharing their heart-shaped wedding cake with the dozen other people on board.
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