They all fall down

“Motopos means ‘bald head’ in the Shona language”, my guide tells me.  Motopos National Park is a landscape of precarious rock formations – rocks balanced upon each other that look like they could tumble down at any second.

As we pull up to the park gates, a ranger points to a cluster of rocks balanced somewhere above my head.  “Watch out”, he says, and then laughs.  “No, not to worry.  These rocks have been balanced like this for thousands of years and they will never fall down”.

My guide tells the same joke over and over as we drive through the park, stopping to admire the impossible rock formations.

As we are leaving the park, there is a news bulletin on the local radio.  “A rock has fallen at Motopos National Park”, the announcer says.  The guide is incredulous.  Fifteen minutes later we come across the rogue rock, which has crushed the pavement to fragments.

I think it is time to leave.  Before they all start falling down.


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