THIS vivid description of the Victoria Falls (Smoke that Thunders) comes from a new pamphlet of the latter name by Eveline Pye (Mariscat Press, £6).

The author, a Glasgow University trained mathematician-statistician, worked as a research analyst in Zambia in the 1970s-80s, and her pamphlet is a clear-eyed but affectionate and affecting account of her observations of Africa.

MOSI-OA-TUNYA

The last place for a waterfall, no mountains or valleys,

horizons flat as summer seas, then from thirty miles,

a white tower of spray punctures the blue sky.

Closer, you hear thunder, though there is no storm,

see double rainbows, bright bridges across air,

feel a welcome drizzle in searing, blistering heat.

Closer, you part a bush, stand on the edge of a chasm;

the wide Zambezi glides forward, then plunges deep

into a wound in the earth's crust, a break in basalt.

The ground trembles with shock, you shout to hear

nothing except a raging roar as solid water

explodes up in your face, blinds you, engulfs you.

Down in the Devil's Cataract, the river cuts frantic

zigzags through deep gorges until it pours into a pool

where a dead hippo bounces up like a rubber ball.