Some of my fondest memories are going on family trips to Lake Kariba. Often we would spend a weekend, fishing and game spotting, and simply getting away from the city. Sometimes we would even spend entire weeks up there aboard big house boats and travel far across the lake for many days. I remember it as always being very relaxing to be so close to nature and be able to observe the animals completely at ease. The poem below was one we found in my dad's desk and that is now pinned to the cork board in my room.

The Power of the Zambezi, by J. Edward Woodward

Through the continent of Africa
The mighty Zambezi flows
Over waterfall, through deep ravine
And where dense forest grows.

But such might and power
And so much frantic haste
Through so many generations
Has mostly gone to waste.

So the heads of two great nations,
Engaged with such accord
To Dam this surging monster
And the first skip of concrete poured

Then fifty thousand Batonka people
Had to move from their homes
And the treasure of the wildlife
No more this Vale could roam

As skip by skip the Dam wall rose
Inch by inch did the water.
Animals and Human kind
Would find their lives would alter

But Nyaminyami the River god
Was not pleased by this obstruction
And twice in rage almost brought
Mens efforts to destruction

But in spite of many hardships,
The Dam was at last complete
And now folks from around the world
Come to admire, this engineering feat

So now a mighty lake appears
Where once there was 'a stream'
Filled with many kinds of fish
from Tigerfish to Bream

But this is not the climax
Of this colossal river fight.
For several million people now,
Are getting power and light.

So be at peace Nyaminyami
You have not lost your power
For now millions pay you homage
Each day and every hour

Any many climb the twisting road
Up to the lookout steeple.
To look across that massive lake and see
Matchstick boats and matchstick people.

And so great Lake Kariba
They built a church near you
Not only in memory of the dead
But to inspire the living too.

On the 30 of October 2010 I received a phone call from my mother while I was at work. My father, Charles Jeffery Gurney, had suffered a fatal heart attack. A week later I stood under the hot sun in a garden in front of more than a hundred people and stumblingly read out a small speech I had written. These were the words I wanted to say, the words I needed to say. I’m going to put the speech, in its flawed entirety, below. I’m going through a tough time right now and it probably won’t get any easier any time soon but I promise you that I will make every effort to put up blog posts whenever I can.