H is for the Hunyani
August 14, 2007 at 7:00 AM
by Ashleigh
The Hunyani is a river that winds through the Mashonaland West province of Zimbabwe and passes very close to Chinhoyi, the town where I went to school.
Coming back from car trips to the capital, Harare, was always marked by landmarks for me.
The Great Dyke, Banket (which should have been called 'blink-and-you'll-miss-it'), the place near Mvurwi where my aunt had her awful car accident, and the big bridge over the Hunyani. Usually a very lazy river, it was surprisingly violent the few times I saw it in flood. Nothing as majestic as the Limpopo or the Zambezi, but nonetheless, a fairly remarkable river.
When I was in the second year of High School, 12 years old because I went a year early, and dreadfully dreadfully self-involved and pre-occupied, we had a field trip to the Hunyani, with our Geography teacher, Mr Neuhoff, who would later become our headmaster. We were told to wear our swimsuits under our clothes, which, to a teenager with body issues was like sentencing you to death!
So off we go, everyone raucously in the bus, get there, spend some time looking at the rock formations, the way the river was formed, the plant growth etc, because after all, this is Geography, right?
It turned out that all the teacher wanted to do was arse around with the other teacher who came with us (I actually think they were having an affair) because after a while he showed us a natural waterslide between the boulders and told us to go and amuse ourselves.
You could slide, on your bum or tummy, for about 500 metres before being flung into a pool at the bottom of this waterslide.
So everyone else goes first, and me, with my pitifully underendowed chest and shaking embarrassment at being exposed in front of my classmates, end up taking the plunge last of all.
The sliding part was fun, I have to admit. In a sort of 'oh my god, there are things in the water' way.
The part that wasn't so fun was that I didn't duck at the right time when passing below an overhanging tree branch and managed to slam myself in the face. At which point I completely lost my bearings, somersaulted (I believe) and ended up being pulled into a whirlpool at the bottom of the slide. Whereupon I spluttered. I coughed. I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to get sucked down to the bottom of the whirlpool and get eaten by a crocodile.
The worst is yet to come.
Still half-drowning, I felt strong arms wrap around me and I was being dragged to the edge of the pool, and all I could think about, in between gasping for breath, was the state of my underendowed chest. I eventually got dumped unceremoniously on the river bank while everyone snickered away and watched me pull my swimsuit out from between my bum cheeks.
The person who rescued me was the 'hero' of the class. The jock-extraordinaire.
Oh the shame and embarrassment of it all. I must have dwelled on it for weeks, if not years.
If in actual fact, I'm not still dwelling on it right now as I write!
Wayne Barratt, I would like to see you now that you are 35!
Comments
Great story!
haha, you're so funny! Some of these childhood experiences are made of the stuff that'll make you cringe even so many years later...
August 14, 2007 9:28 AM