Face to face with Lions and Mosi-Oa-Tunya

This invariably made it the most difficult to decide upon, more so because I was going with the whole family, something my Ibo friend Ralph would never do.  A voice in me kept asking; ‘are you seriously thinking of putting your whole family in one giant coffin–if you will allow the categorization– in the face […]

This invariably made it the most difficult to decide upon, more so because I was going with the whole family, something my Ibo friend Ralph would never do.  
A voice in me kept asking; ‘are you seriously thinking of putting your whole family in one giant coffin–if you will allow the categorization– in the face of the missing MH370?
Don’t you think you are pushing your luck too far? The voice kept asking.
In the end, I disregarded the caution, took the plunge, and the vacation turned out to be the most memorable and adventurous we have ever taken.
Now I am a firm believer of the phrase; ‘the higher the risk, the higher the…’
As is usual, we start from the beginning.

THE LOGISTICS
A tip; long before embarking on any trip make sure that all things in terms of logistics are in place at your destination. That way, your trip would be stress free. Well, not really, but almost stress free, should I say, when you factor in unforeseen circumstances.  
On this trip, I tied up all ends in Zambia with a company named ‘House of travel’ through a good friend of mine named Mr. Giscard who is based there, but only for the arrangements made here to give me maximum stress.
Our flight to Zambia was scheduled for 10pm through Lagos with South African airlines, and because of that I took the unnecessary– but in this particular case necessary-gamble of booking our flights to Lagos from Abuja on the same day we were to fly out of the country.
I bought the tickets a day earlier, putting myself and Halima, who had an exam that was to finish evening, on the late evening flight, and the rest of the family on the afternoon one.
I figured if the first batch goes earlier with all our travel documents, they would at least be able to go check us in, in case of an unexpected or, expected delay in our evening flight.
The unexpected happened on our way to the airport.
We picked Halima from school at exactly five pm and headed straight to the airport, comfortable with the timing and relieved that OBJ-obviously not the former president– had called to say he had already checked us in.
About a kilometer or so to the airport junction we met traffic at a standstill.
VIP movement—you guessed right. And to think that they were even coming out of the airport thus using the other side of the road really—-me off.
I came down and frantically started making calls to both a staff of the airline and OBJ, in an effort to make an alternative arrangement. It turned out the only alternative was to make that flight.
The stress level started climbing up from that moment on; luckily, we started moving just at about the time the meter was entering the red zone.
To cut a long story short, we were the last to enter the aircraft.
Phew!! All my meticulous arrangements would have come to naught had we missed that flight, and the consequences would have been dire and disastrous.
Believe me, to date I cant remember what made the traffic start moving, because I equally cant remember seeing the convoy zoom past the other side of the road or hearing the blazing sirens before we started moving.
We were received in Lagos by a driver arranged by my good friend Eng Saleh Dunoma.
The same driver had picked my family earlier in the afternoon and dropped them in a guest house in Ikeja GRA.
We thereafter went through the stress of having to drive into the GRA to pick them and dash back through that mad Lagos traffic back to international. Had I known that it would be that stressful, I would have requested the driver to come along with them to pick us at MM2, because again, we were about the last to check-in.        
 
ARRIVAL JO’BURG
We deliberately refused to tell the children how developed South Africa is, knowing that it would immediately be noticeable from the airport. The airport, its staff and immediate environs are usually the face of any country. Need I say more?
The cold in the airport, coupled with the over 4 hour layover made us dash to get  sweaters for the young and most vulnerable ones, after which we located a Diner in which to go do good breakfast.
As soon as we settled down a waitress with a heavy South African accent approached us.
The kids, as expected, said they wanted Burgers.
‘How many burgers?-which, to all, sounded like ‘how many beggars?’ … She asked
Before leaving the Diner, a supervisor of Indian descent named Rashid came round to ask how they were doing. Not how we were doing, just like the one time long serving mayor of New York [Ed Koch] was wont of asking whenever he worked the streets of the city.
As the eight of us started filing into the aircraft a curious Caucasian lady asked, ‘one family?’
I replied with the question, ‘are we too many? Was about to add, ‘wait till you see my Emirs’ when she ended the conversation with these words, ‘Depends on your preference’. Case closed.
Now, I mustn’t forget to mention the friendly demeanor of the cabin staff, a complete contrast from that of the ones who handed us over-if you know what I mean. My take on this; its people’s behavior that elicits or triggers the kind of response they always get.

ARRIVAL LUSAKA
In about one and half hours, Lusaka popped into existence, for us. The first thing noticeable as you disembark the aircraft is the clear blue sky, never seen a clearer, bluer and more beautiful sky in my life. Now I believe some things people take as ordinary in their environment may indeed be extra ordinary elsewhere, as in this case, or, as in a sunrise in Japan,– they say—, haven’t been there, yet.
Inside the terminal building, it was the order, discipline and professionalism of the staff that gave me the knocker punch. Example; we were on queue for immigration with an exact replica of late Idi Amin dada of Uganda—I could have sworn they are related—, and who, from appearances had the carriage of a ‘big’ man, [VIP].
It turned out he was.  Before long, a protocol officer came to collect his documents, joining him on the queue instead of plucking him out of it. They took their turn in doing everything else—and together. Can you believe that?
Stepping out of the terminal building we were met by two staff of the tour company ‘house of travel’.
The first thing the senior guy named Quincy did was to introduce us to Chrispine, our driver, after which he handed over a copy of a programme that pretty much spelt out where we would be, and at what time, how we would go and when we would leave—I mean, every little detail was put in there. And believe me, it was almost 90 percent achieved. The 10 percent failure was from—-your guess is as good as mine.
How more professional can one get?
The vehicle assigned to us was a right hand driven air conditioned, or climate controlled,– to put it in the fancy language car manufacturers like to use now-Toyota bus, enough for all of us plus luggage.
The well planted wide dual carriage way out of the airport and standard billboards along the road gave a very good impression of what to expect in town.
We weren’t disappointed.
Our first port of call was ‘stay easy’. A budget hotel that offers only breakfast and friendly staff, equipped with Ikea like furniture and very neat. Not to worry about lunch and dinner though when you visit, because right across the hotel you will find a standard mall—and I mean the standard of well developed countries–, also equipped with shops  and Portuguese, Italian, Mexican, you name it-restaurants.
In the evening, Giscard sent a driver to ferry me to his office, where we had coffee and caught up on old times whilst waiting for his amiable secretary Glenda to arrange local Sim cards for us.
I was left speechless.

ROAD TO LIVINGSTONE
ON 17TH April, which coincided with our youngest daughter’s birthday, Chris, short for Chrispine, arrived just as was spelt out in our programme. We also tried as much as possible to make it as expected, to give a good impression of self and country.
We set out on what turned out to be an almost 8 hour journey from Lusaka to Livingstone at 9 am.
We could have done it in half the time were I to be driving, but for three things.
One, I wasn’t driving, two, we had a flat tyre along the road and three; we stopped at a rest station midway in a town called Monze to stretch and freshen up.
Now, this rest station has very clean toilets that are well stocked with air fresheners, hand wash and dryers.  And cost of usage? 2 kwacha of their currency, amounts you can’t even give value to in ours.
The irony is that you cant get anything comparable to this here when traveling from lets say Abuja right up to Kano, or Maiduguri, or even going down south up to Lagos.
The best you can get is whats provided at Dan Kande-for those that know it.
It was only recently a friend told me there is a VIP section of the restrooms available, ‘but, what the guards do is size people up before leading them to it’, he continued to say, which invariably means none of my dresses qualify as that of a VIP, because I was never led there.
‘This should necessitate an improvement on my wardrobe then’ I said to myself.
But the thing here is; I don’t even know which criteria they use in the rating of a VIP. Do they look at the flowing gowns, body mass, shoes, or is it just the swagger? I do hope the improvement in the wardrobe will work anyway.
Apart from the toilets, there is provision for decent accommodations, in case one gets tired or sleepy, a fast food/restaurant in the middle, all in addition to ample parking space enough for all sorts of vehicles.
Come-on, we can’t even provide decent toilets or rest stops?
Don’t know if they’re true though, but, I’ve heard stories of VIP’s taking a dash into the bushes along highways before. Haven’t you?
The road to Livingstone is not dualised, but I tell you it’s a lot safer than our dual carriageways, primarily because most drivers observe speed limits and all road signs.
The first big town we came across is called Kafue; with a big and functional fertilizer plant that I am sure provides employment to its teeming population.
Next was Mazabuke. A town that caught my fancy, it will, yours also– I am sure– when you see the giant billboard that introduces it as the sweetest town in Zambia. The town is adored with sugarcane plantations on both sides, reason why it prides itself with that appendage.
Just before Livingstone, we came across another big town named Zimba, and that’s when I began to wonder why the Zambians are so fascinated with the letter Z.
On arrival Livingstone I noticed the time was exactly as in our programme and said, ‘how could they have predicted this? Stopping in Monze-yes, but how could they have factored in the time we spent changing the flat? Or we would even have a flat on the way anyway?
I must tell you, however, that we did not come across a single policeman or check point on the road, talk less of a soldier, until we reached the gates of Livingstone.  
We only came across a lady traffic police officer in the sweetest town, if I remember well, and she conducted herself professionally, even donning a smile and wishing us safe trip after checking the vehicles papers. She did not even ask for a driver’s license. My take on this was; it did not even cross her mind that someone will drive a vehicle without a valid driver’s license.
Lest I forget, we also came across many refrigerated trucks with the inscription ‘Zambeef’ written on them along the highway.
I asked Chrispine the somewhat silly question of what they were transporting.
I needed to confirm.
He said, ‘they distribute refrigerated beef to all nooks and crannies of Zambia’.
We also do, but live animals, in open trucks, in the most cruel of ways, sometimes with disastrous consequences. But, I couldn’t tell him this. Need I say more?
 
LIVINGSTONE TOWN
Livingstone town, established in early 19th century, is named after the famous missionary explorer of the same name. Its downtown is adorned with beautiful Edwardian buildings. It is a very charming small town with a lot to offer tourists that one falls in love with immediately on eye contact. The town’s proximity to the mighty Zambezi River coupled with the spectacular Victoria Falls has made it one of the most visited by travelers from all over the world. The down side is that not many in Africa, outside the SADEC countries know it exists.
There were many a time I felt out of Africa whilst there.
We were booked for a two night stay in the David Livingstone safari lodge and spa and one night at Victoria Falls waterfront, the former equipped with all the luxuries you can think of, and the latter without TV, air-conditioning, internet or even intercom in the rooms.

DAVID LIVINGSTONE SAFARI LODGE
The David Livingstone lodge is a colonial style five star hotel situated 7 kilometers away from the Victoria falls, also known as Mosi Oa Tunya,— ‘the smoke that thunders’, in the local dialect—, one of the most impressive, if not the most, to me now, natural wonders of the world.
The lodge is equipped with 72 en-suite rooms, each with a private Jacuzzi, satellite TV, telephones, internet, and most of all, private balconies overlooking the mighty Zambezi River. Whilst waiting to catch the magnificent African sunset in the balcony one might be lucky to catch a glimpse of hippos or crocks passing bye.
Just checking into the lodge was a whole new experience. I have never been to a hotel where just checking in is such fun.
Like I said earlier, our bookings into the lodge had already been taken care of and pre-paid by house of travel so, I thought all we needed to do was present my passport and room keys would be handed over to us.
No——– not at the David Livingstone.
The lady at the other side of the desk who handed over my passport after making a copy began to come round the table, and I wondered at what she was coming out for.
She gathered all of us together, sat us down at the open ended reception, beckoned on an attendant to serve us exotic and chilled African cocktails, before beginning a lengthy orientation of the lodge.
She began by telling us the easiest way to our rooms, where to book for the activities we wanted to partake in, where the gym, pool and restaurants were, ending up with a warning not to leave our balconies open because of the monkey thieves milling around and not to get scared when we hear noises in the night, saying, ‘it would most likely be hippos passing by the river, or Charlie, our untamed crock that ate a monkey just last week and not lions’.
In the end I left a balcony open and a monkey thief dashed in like a flash of lightning and stole my apple. I will come back to how the drama played out when I challenged him afterwards.   
She asked if we had any questions and I remember my daughters asking a few before the porter whisked us away to the rooms.
We quickly freshened up, came out and told Chrispine to take us to a good local cuisine restaurant for dinner. He did, to a fine one.
Unknown to us, the lodge had been waiting for us to show up for dinner, having prepared a surprise birthday song for our little Asmau, whose birthday fell on that day-17th April.
We had to compensate her with a small candle lit one in the room, which extremely made her happy. Happiness of which I had never seen in her before and that which almost brought me to tears.
 
VICTORIA FALLS OR MOSI-OA-TUNYA
Victoria Falls is one of, if not, the most spectacular attractions not only in Africa, but the world and probably Mars over. Little wonder then that it has been named a UNESCO world heritage site. At over one kilometer in width and 100 meters deep, it is the largest curtain of waterfall in the world. The roar of the falls can be heard at a distance of over 40 kilometers, whilst the mist created by the falling water which rises to 400 meters can be seen from slightly more than that.
The falls were discovered in the mid eighteen hundreds by the British doctor and missionary David Livingstone, in whose honor the town itself is named.
He in turn named the falls ‘Victoria’ in honor of British queen Victoria.
It is said-have my doubts— that the locals were so afraid of the roar and mist of the falls that none of them ever dared to go check what was there and just named it ‘Mosi Oa Tunya,’ the smoke that thunders’.
But, I agree whole heartedly that brave Dr Livingstone may be the first European to have set eyes on the falls, and I may very well be the——African to do so.
This kind of record-of who saw what first, plus the serialization— is with the creator of the universe.
I am extremely glad now though, because the locals have conquered their fear and successfully developed the place into the tourist attraction that it is.
We set out for the falls at exactly 10.30am on the 18th of April, Chrispine having arrived on the dot.
At ticket sales, a modest room brimming with tourists, the girl across the counter told me they are looking up to Nigeria to lift up the whole of Africa.
I paid her, picked up the tickets, put my best smile forward and told her I couldn’t but agree more—if you know what I mean.
At the entrance we were assigned to an elderly guide named ‘Tembo’, which he told us means elephant in the local dialect’.  He was tall and lanky. So, the name didn’t fit– you guess what would have.
He started by telling us the source of the mighty Zambezi— the north western province, and that it runs a total distance of over 3000 km on land and 400 more into the Indian ocean where it drains into.
He also said in peak rainy season, 10 million liters of water per second drop into the deep gauge that created the falls, only to surge back upwards into a spectacular cloud of mist, which in turn falls back as rain.
Tembo, with 12yrs experience as a guide, was so good at doing his work that he kept upping the tempo and our curiosity by starting the tour from the dry part, ending it at the wet side where the view of the falls is most spectacular.
To tour the wet part we had to hire rain coats and rubber sleepers, something I saw some daredevils going in without. The most difficult, risky, but ironically exiting part of the tour is crossing a suspended almost 100 yr old—-my guess— slippery, iron foot bridge, especially when crossing with children. But we did it, little Asmau, whose excitement from the falling shower knew no bounds, inclusive.
There is no description that can give you an idea of how it feels when you come face to face with Mosi-Oa-Tunya. So, my advice is; just go see.
Out of the falls, we crossed another much wider bridge, —- where daredevil tourists bungee jump— and walked right up to the Zimbabwean border.
We went into the immigration office and asked the officer if he would allow us cross, just to view the falls again from Uncle Bob’s side. He politely refused with a depleted tone in his voice. I could tell deep down he wanted to allow us, but for the regulations. He was a good man.

WALKING WITH LIONS AND CHEETAHS
We got back to the lodge at exactly 3pm, in time for the children to take part in a junior chef competition, and I went to the activities room to book for a lion/cheetah walk the following day-an interaction with the animals un caged. As I signed up, the elderly lady said ‘no kids below 14 years of age’.
I asked why and she said, ‘the lions may get agitated when they see small children’ and wear light colored cloths’ ‘very bright colors also agitate them’ she went on to say. Finally she said, ‘be at the reception by 7am, a driver from the Mukuzi Big Five Safari Park will be there to pick you along with others that may sign up’.
I said, ‘are we the only ones who signed up today?
She said, ‘well, so far.’
From then on, my heart started beating faster.
Then a voice said to me, ‘how can you take the risk of taking a walk with lions and cheetahs in the jungle, not only alone, but with your children?
‘After all, an animal is an animal, even if tamed or domesticated, that animal instinct will still be there’, it kept saying.
Besides, I have heard and read of instances where wild domesticated animals attacked even trainers they have interacted with for years.
These thoughts kept coming right up to the time I fell asleep-that’s if I even slept at all, and you know what?  I even dreamt lions from the little sleep that I got that night.
Early morning, donning a brave face, I walked my three daughters out to the reception. My wife stayed back with the smaller ones whose age couldn’t add up. Our son Muhammad, whose age won’t add up even if I were to use a lunar calendar, was very disappointed.
Along the corridor, we came across a British gentleman I had reason to speak to a day earlier in the garden of the lodge.
He asked, ‘where are you going early morning’ seeing us all dressed up.
I told him we were going for the lion walk’
He said, with a straight face, ‘well, try not to get eaten’
My immediate thought was, ‘does he know something we don’t?
I surveyed the reception and saw there was nobody waiting along with us when the vehicle screeched to a halt and tried to buy time for another re-think by telling the driver to please give us time for coffee as breakfast had already been served.
He said, ‘oh no, not to worry, there is coffee at the reception in the park’
I reluctantly hopped onto the bus and as soon as we started moving, he dropped a bombshell.
He said, ‘when we get to the reception at the lodge you will be required to sign an indemnity form’.
Indemnity against what, I asked, a question whose answer is so obvious.
He didn’t bother answering my question but went about re-assuring us there’s nothing to worry about. That it would be a nice experience, and 10 minutes after interacting with the lions we would relax and feel at home, bla bla bla.
I wasn’t listening.
We drove for about 20 minutes before veering off onto a dirt road that leads to the park.
At the reception we met people of different nationalities mingling around, and as soon as we settled down someone came and led me to where payments are made.
I reluctantly brought out my GT card and paid for the four of us, an amount I will not disclose but that which I think was unreasonable—if not for the charity part of it goes to— considering the risk we, or I, was putting self and children into.
Thereafter, the indemnity forms were brought over to our table. We read through and discovered imbedded there-in a clause that says not even your next of kin or near relative can sue the park in case anything happens. I said to myself, ‘they are right, Na we carry ourselves come’, if you will pardon the broken or mutilated English.
Before long, a guide came to address all of us at the reception. He said we would start by going to witness a cheetah run, a demonstration of the speed at which the fastest animal on earth takes off and gain acceleration. This was done by releasing bait tied to a wire thread that runs through a motor which the cheetah follows. The acceleration was unbelievable. If by chance you come across this bolt of an animal in the wild, your best bet will maybe climb up somewhere, but definitely not run.  
We were thereafter sorted into two groups, those doing cheetah walk only and those that signed up for both.
We signed for both.
I felt relieved when a group of Indians picked from another hotel joined us for the lion walk briefing.
I was really glad they did.
‘At least we have some colorful Indians the lions can easily spot and follow in our group, just in case’, I thought to myself.
Mr. James, a middle aged and dark complexioned gentleman with a deep Barry White like baritone voice immediately dropped a couple of sticks on the table and told us to pick one each.
No sooner had he done that than the lions roar filtered through the shrubs right up to the reception. I wondered if they had been fed that morning and voiced my opinion publicly.
I also noticed that James was dressed in light green camouflage and wondered– though not aloud– if that was to make it difficult for the lions to spot him in the shrubs——- just in case.    
He politely greeted us, introduced himself, and went on to spell out the dos and don’ts when interacting with the kings of the jungle.
I barely heard him as my mind was fixed on the roar in the background. The only two things I remember him saying were; one, we shouldn’t approach them from the front and two, the end of the sticks were to be given to them to play with when they decide to be playful.
At the end of his lecture I asked if he had a firearm.
He looked at me, face expressionless and simply said ‘NO’.
Five minutes or so later, there we were, sheepishly following him into the jungle. After what seemed like eternity, we came face to face with the lions, stretched out in an open sandy field, along with two other guides.
The three lions, one male named Terry and two females named Cholue and Diana were immediately introduced to us.
After another briefing we were asked to get close, in turns, for souvenir photos.
We got a real big scare from Terry when it got to Maryams turn for a solo picture.
She was sitting and massaging his neck from behind when he suddenly turned round– as if to see who was such a good masseur-looked at her and opened his mouth wide.
She picked race and hid behind a small lean tree, which made her effort came to naught as she was completely visible.
It was at that moment I remembered a guide’s advice to someone setting out for the lion walk and came to the conclusion that talk is really cheap.
The guide had said to him, ‘if the lions give you a naughty look, stand your ground, be assertive and don’t show any sign of weakness’.     
The guides quickly swung into action by going to calm and lead her back to where we were standing,– mouths agape,— cautioning all of us not to run in such circumstances in order not to be mistaken as game by the lions.
Her heart continued to beat faster and her legs trembled for minutes thereafter. But, she, who ordinarily is afraid of even house cats-I am too-surprisingly came out of it quickly and even held some by the tail whilst walking them later.
Another scare came some 20 minutes later when Diana and Cholue pounced onto a tree as we walked them.
I said to James ‘what are they doing?’
‘Sharpening their claws’ he replied.
I wondered at why they would do that and continued to pray for a safe return back to the lodge.
At the end of the walk, James said farewell to us on behalf of the lions and herded them back into their enclosure. But, not before availing us the opportunity of seeing a rare blue eyed white lion.
We crossed to the other side of the reception and did a similar thing with the cheetahs. By then we had become more accustomed to the environment, and were completely relaxed to the point of even taking some ‘selfies’ with the cheetahs.
The lion/cheetah walk was a truly wonderful experience, one that made me a little more fearless of at least house cats, but that which I will advise one should do only once in a  lifetime. I have had my share and so am done with that.
 
THE WATERFRONT
The waterfront is a sister hotel to the David Livingstone lodge. As a matter of fact, they share a fence. Because of that we left the kids doing a treasure hunting activity after checking out and went to town.
House of travel moved us there on our last day at Livingstone in order to experience the camp like atmosphere.  
We came back for them and drove to a must visit typical Zambian village called ‘Mukuni’ where one can buy hand crafted artifacts as souvenir gifts, try hands on local musical instruments and tour the village heads house. We did all.
From the village we proceeded to town and sampled another local/Caribbean restaurant.
Like mentioned earlier, the waterfront is devoid of internet, TV, air conditioning or intercom in the rooms. The staff, aware of this, still decided to separate us from the kids by allocating to us rooms far away from each other. I thought that was their idea of preparing us when eventually our kids are released into the world— just like all the animals in the wildlife conservatory are eventually released into the wild.

ENCOUNTER WITH A MONKEY THIEF
Now, it was at the waterfront a monkey stole my apple. This is what happened.
I had mistakenly left our balcony door wide open to take in the early morning fresh air passing over the Zambezi when this guy suddenly jumped in, picked the apple and jumped out as quickly as he had come in. I bit my fingers, rushed to the balcony took a picture as evidence-just in case–, closed the door and went for breakfast.  
Sighting him parched on the branch of a tree unashamedly devouring my apple as I was about crossing a wooden foot bridge to the restaurant, I made my move.
I made a face, stumped my feet and moved in his direction, scaring him to the point of the apple accidentally dropping to the ground.
You know what?
This guy, who I noticed is even mustachioed, made a similar move in my direction, locking eyes with me. I stood my ground. He had no idea I had walked with lions and cheetahs the previous day. The standoff continued for a while until I decided to walk away because I wasn’t going to eat the apple again anyway.
I could have pushed the apple in the water below, but decided to let him have it even though he didn’t politely ask for it.
We arrived back in Lusaka on 20th April in the evening, re-checked in at stay easy for two nights, and crossed over to the mall for a very sumptuous and well deserved dinner at a Portuguese restaurant.
The following day, Glenda, that very resourceful Zambian secretary of my friend, sent two drivers for us in the morning.
We split into two groups. I, Maryam and the three little ones were driven to Chaminuka, a resort equipped with an unbelievable scenery, lodge, open air restaurant, artificial lake and animals in the wild. My wife and Halima sampled the local market and the many beautiful malls they have in town. Fatima stayed back in the hotel to complete an assignment.
At Chaminuka, developed and owned by an old Greek/Zambian friend of KK, we booked for a game drive in an open bodied land rover, to compensate the little ones whose age didn’t allow them do the lion walk, and they, or rather we, were all privileged to see an elephant, giraffe, gazelles and many other animals, all in the wild.
Back in town Samson drove us round town, showing us the state house, former President Kaunda’s modest two bedroom house in the early sixties when he  led the struggle for independence, ending up in a restaurant to bid goodbye to  Nshima-a local delicacy.
On 22nd April, we found ourselves gradually sliding back into disorder, unfortunately, as we flew back from Lusaka to jo’burg then onto Lagos.
It need not be so, and I believe it-the disorder– can be reversed.