Niassa is an area in the far north of Mozambique- so remote from civilisation that the Portuguese once called it Fin De Mundo - the end of the world and we were headed there. George thrilled to bits to be returning to this paradise. His first visit, five years ago allowed a three month visa. When he returned, a skin kept his bones together! This time our visa allowed 30 days. Extensions were out of the question due to remoteness and costly flights. Much as Lea would like to lose weight, it was only the lure of her unknown grandchildren that drew her…
How easily ‘word of mouth’ creates nervous disorders when travelling in Africa. We were well primed and ready for the roller coaster heart jolts beginning the moment we checked-in our luggage for Maputo. Not only was our luggage awkward it was well and truly over weight! Without a blink of an eye it was processed and our boarding passes politely handed over. Stunned as we were by this break, Lea’s anxiety simply shunted over in readiness for the Lichinga leg. The hour’s flight landed us in the capital city, where our hearts did a double flip as we handed over our passports and US dollars to a Care Officer as we waited in the queue for Immigration. Certainly different procedures in Africa! Once through, we claimed our luggage and stood around waiting for our passports to return safely into our hands with a visa. Even though the presence of Care Officers reassured us that all was under control, we still felt a measure of relief to see the passports return without problem. Our luggage now had to be processed through an antiquated x-ray machine under the watchful eyes of heavily built Custom Officers who promptly demanded Keith’s huge pelican case be opened. Easier said than done as the keys were within an envelope in our hand luggage AND travelling at high altitude had created a vacuum that proved very difficult to break! Once through, another slight difficulty arose due to a language barrier - when an ‘informal’ porter took over our luggage trolley close to the check-in counter for the internal flight to Lichinga. Either he felt a US dollar was not sufficient payment or he wanted to change money for us, it wasn’t clear to us. Whew, how lucky was that, our overweight luggage was once again on its way without a murmur.
LICHINGA, an airport just like any from those old African film sets had us beside ourselves with excitement as the long awaited meeting of our Begg family in their home territory arrived… Descending the steps, we immediately spotted them, standing out like storks waving from the balcony.
Keith and George were each trying to capture this moment on camera from their different perspectives. Oh my goodness emotions ran high, as they always do but this first sighting of Ella & Finn was particularly poignant.We spent this first night in a Mission Station carefully making our acquaintance with Ella and Finn amidst the street noises of Lichinga where the realisation struck home with a jolt that third world conditions surrounded us and we promptly changed gears in our thinking. Next day, Colleen and Finn were scheduled to fly out to Maputo for a region wide Lion Conference (her mother, Gill joining her there to care for Finn between feedings) and we were all content to forego a celebration dinner and chew instead on Mr Chicken and chips in our mission quarters while we talked non-stop.
We were up with the birds after a surprisingly peaceful night although, Keith mentioned the Mission guard snoring outside their window all night. The men dashed off to the market to buy fresh vegetables while Colleen packed and Lea entertained the kids in the yard, alongside two curious and hungry Jack Russell dogs. Finally everyone was ready and the overloaded Land Rover, with George and Pedro perched on the back along with a five dozen pack of eggs, made its way to the airport to drop off Colleen with baby Finn, two hours early for their flight, as we needed to get going on the long journey to Nkuli Camp.
We took a break in the heat of the day while the tyre was changed.
Throughout the Lugenda catchment can be seen a spectacular array of granite inselbergs that characterise Northern Mozambique – we were unable to fully appreciate their beauty until our return journey due to haze. Atop the Marupa Plateau we arrived in the last big town in third world terms, its original Portuguese layout and architecture still very evident, only rundown. Thereafter we took to dirt roads that gradually deteriorated as we headed into Niassa Reserve. …. Pedro, banging on the roof, alerted us to the fact that our heavy bag of luggage had rolled off and away into the thick dust (our bag is still engrained). Despite Keith being very conscious of his mother’s spine – it was difficult to avoid the constant bumping around and Lea was glad to be wedged in between the door and George with Ella on top of her to alleviate some of the swaying movements. As evening drew in the sandy track had us dizzily darting between trees. Mindful of Keith being tired from all the driving, we wondered how he narrowly managed to miss the odd tree and were more than happy to pull up at the security gates of Mbatamila, the Reserve Headquarters. As for Ella, we just couldn’t help be very impressed by a 2 year old who had taken this long, hot, dusty drive in her stride without a single grizzle or tear. A tent had previously been erected for us to sleep in alongside the pole and dagga hut, in which Keith & Col store everything over the rainy season. Ella was given a bath in a plastic basin by her Dad while our dinner was cooked for us by the HQ kitchen staff. Stretching out on a mattress for the night brought welcome relief.
Before taking to the road next morning the punctured tyre was mended and Land-rover repacked. The peace and quiet of wilderness Niassa has changed over these last few years. The informal track has steadily becoming a formal dirt road with homes stretching out on either side whenever we came to a village settlement. No sightings of wildlife just curious, ever welcoming local people waving or shouting “Nkuli” as we passed by.
Whenever we stopped a crowd would cluster around our car windows – murmuring ‘Malaika’ as they smiled at Ella Malaika. To start with, Ella kept her eyes shyly downcast but in time she began to raise her eyebrows and flash her eyes about in a facial dance that later, we came to realize, was an exact copy of what her Dad would do to his children!
We stopped in Mecula, the district capital and ex- Portuguese army base, to collect Ndugu who had been left there a few days previously to buy 3 goats for baiting leopard traps and meat for us. Lea’s eyes roll! Keith shot into the small market place, the last on route, to buy their remaining 7 bottles of beer for our camp rations!
Yes, despite our load, room was found on top for three large billy-goats, feet trussed up and bleating loudly as they were slung aboard.
Ndugu, with the 3 goats, joined Pedro on the back of the land-rover, and again, we pondered the fate of the eggs… The road tossed us about with many detours into dry gullies due to roughly built log bridges having been damaged by fires or floods. Other times, the Landy crept up rocky granite faces and down eroded tracks. On the outskirts of Mecula we stopped to pick up Nkuli’s cook and camp chief, Alberto or “Jombo” (a respectful term in Swahili for Uncle). His distinctive and ready laugh, a hallmark of the film “Honey Hunters of Niassa” was to be just as infectious and impossible to ignore in the many days ahead. We happened to pass other characters from the film too; the ‘chiropractor’ canoe builder and the much grown boy who held fish in his mouth for want of a free hand.
In the last settlement Mbamba we stopped to offload cement and paint for much needed school renovations that Projecto Nkuli were about to begin.
Strada Nkuli, the track that Keith and Col had cut and cleared their way through seven years ago was upon us. Just as Lea thought it impossible for her body tension to increase simply protecting her back from the jarring of river beds, the added contention of meeting elephant rose to the fore in her mind. When the final mighty dip across and out of a dry gully brought us into the wonderfully inviting shade of large sausage and thorn trees within a small bamboo boundary fence demarcating Nkuli Camp, Lea couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief that we had seen nothing other than the dried remnants of dung, the entire trip. George in the meantime, stared around in amazement at this fine camp, so different to the rough and ready one he had shared with Keith and Col, five years back. Euzebio, another member of the Nkuli team, left behind to look after the camp, was sound asleep in a chair totally unaware of our noisy approach. He sheepishly awoke only after Keith shouted “Hey” a couple of times. Dannyboi, another field assistant, was out with the baboons.
Our first view of Nkuli camp.
WE HAD ARRIVED. Life took on a whole new beat for George and Lea, requiring each to write up their particular record of these remarkable days…
GEORGE:
Long before we arrived I knew my “job” from day one, was to help Keith habituate a troop of yellow baboons that lived not far from the camp - that is getting them totally accustomed to my presence by remaining with them wherever they went from sunrise to sunset, day after day, an activity which to the uninitiated may sound like a pretty onerous, if not boring, task but in my case nothing could be further from the truth. Half the trick was to behave like a baboon because this seemed like the best way of gaining acceptance! I may have been unable to climb as well as they could but this did not stop me from pretending to eat what they ate; to scrabble in the sand or elephant droppings like them; drink when they did; rest in the shade during their siesta time, and generally join in the fun.
My friends the Yellow baboons
Being such sociable monkeys with habits that any self respecting primatologist would give their eye teeth to spend time with, my encounters with the 42 members of the Nantusi group and Top Dog’s smaller troop of 20, let alone all the other forms of wildlife that were either associated with them or one stumbled across in the process, grumpy elephants included, was just too marvellous for words. So much so that I am busy putting together a story called “The Adventures of a Makako Shepherd” (makako being the local African’s name for a baboon) drawn from my diary that was written hourly in the field.
On one occasion for example, there was an elephant shaking an ilala palm close by. It had been quick to spot my attempt to sneak away and had disappeared itself, so the baboons soon had my full attention once again. It wasn’t for long however, as before I knew it, Mr Elephant was coming along to visit the very tree that the baboons were in! With the wind in my favour I decided to sit tight, the baboons 20m away, when over the radio, Keith had given me bursts the sound “Dad – Dad, do you read me?” He couldn’t have called at a worse time but to prevent him from repeating the call I whispered in reply – “Keith, have an elephant problem, I’ll call you back.” As Mr Elephant padded silently by I sneaked a picture of him and only called back once I could hear the elephant had resumed ilala palm shaking a safe distance away.
One of the many incidents when elephant are unexpectedly encountered.
On another occasion an elephant sneaked up behind me and gave me a blast; it’s loud trumpeting even sufficient to scare the baboons out of the tree they were feeding in! A nasty fellow he was because I was sitting on the ground, my backpack against a tiny bush, simply minding my own business watching bobo’s. Finding my back turned towards him, he decided to creep up on his big cushioned feet and scare the living daylights out of me by charging, shaking his head and screaming in rage, only stopping in a flurry of dust some 15m away. Little did he know that none of this prevented me from taking a photo of him as he pushed off – but it didn’t take me and my baboons long to find a more user friendly spot.
I am glad to report that both troops were behaving in a very relaxed manner by the time we had to leave so, after three weeks and much support from the Nkuli team, my mission was successfully accomplished. From here on it is over to our film-maker son to complete the job!
One day, just for a change, Keith picked me up to go “lion hunting”. Not far off was Flavia, a lioness whose GPS collar needed to be removed. She and her pal (possibly her sister?) slunk off soon after we arrived, heading towards the river. Not wanting them to disappear into the reed beds on the floodplain we deliberately cut them off, a manoeuvre which caused the two lions to lie down and face us, their tails swishing angrily, about 30m away. By now it was getting late, so using the dart gun I tried firing a dart into Flavia’s right shoulder. Emitting a loud snarl she took off in a cloud of dust, the red tassel of the dart dangling below her neck while the other lioness, lying a similar distance away, did not even flinch. We did not have to move far before we spotted Flavia staring at us disapprovingly, occasionally snarling. Twenty minutes later, although appearing groggy, she was far from fully immobilised so Keith prepared another dart and moved into a position from where I could get it into her shoulder. We were just in time because darkness was falling.
In the darkness I could see the other lion’s eyes glowing like orbs 15m away.
The great white hunter …
Another highlight during my trip to Mocambique was Keith taking me to spend 4 days at Chimambo, the home of several troops of “spirit baboons” regarded by the local people as the ancestors of a chief who many years ago drowned himself and his family in a pool on the Nicodonco river.
The sacred pool of Chimambo
But first Keith first had to pick up the spirit medium Mwe-Nandi and a contingent of his followers from a village 40km away, then drive 300km on the other side of the Lugenda before picking me up. I simply popped across the river by canoe and joined him there. Things began badly when, before leaving with our truck full of passengers Keith advised me to change into the long trousers he had kindly lent me from his “wardrobe”. Imagine my horror when discreetly changing behind a bush my toe ripped the crotch open! Caught without underpants I broke into a nervous giggle. When I put my camera into the “pocket”, it immediately slipped down the inside of my leg onto the ground and I burst into laughter. There was no pocket in my pants … As it transpired Keith’s trousers were in no better shape and we both looked like a real pair of ragamuffins.
Passengers and driver, en route to Chimambo For as long as people can remember the spirit baboons of Chimambo have been brought food; the pool and everything living in are sacred; the water has special healing properties as have the plants that grow in its vicinity; a nearby baobab dominating the chonde-chonde site where prayers are conducted. Understandably it is insulting to refer to the baboons that frequent the area as makakos. They are the ‘children of Chimambo’ – all totally accustomed to the presence of people. No snatching or bad behaviour simply because neither party has anything to fear. For a monkey man, like me, I could happily have sat in their midst for months, taking photos and working out “who was who in the zoo”.
Hand feeding the children of Chimambo.
Although I spent every waking hour in the bush, it did not detract from the real highlight of the trip … and that was the long awaited, face to face contact with our two bush babies, Ella and Finn. They gave us an enormous amount of pleasure each day. Not that they realise it, they are incredibly lucky kids living this life.
By chance grand-dad and grandson were wearing their hats in the same manner.
Painting with Ella in Nkuli camp
LEA.
My life happily revolved round Ella and Finn, in and around the camp which overlooked the beautiful wide open spaces and sandy channels of the Lugenda River.
Our little “chilindu”, constructed to keep the sun off our tent and in my mind, fearsome beasts at arms length from my canvas, was some way outside the camp, down beside a dry, sandy back channel of the Lugenda river.
Those first nights, not a peep from anything other than the calming sounds of frogs, crickets and a pair of Pel’s fishing owls. Never-the-less, I slept lightly with my ears straining out for the unexpected. At first light the soporific DU-DU-du-du-du or more expressively “some birds lay 3 eggs, some birds lay more eggs- but I only lay two, two, two, two, two” calls of Emerald spotted doves would take over for the rest of the day and I became much like a meercat, forever scanning the river banks. I certainly wasn’t to be lulled into a false sense of security and kept up a 360° look-out. Ella probably discerned my nervous disposition and despite my checks – she actually made the first sighting some days later when a large bull elephant crossed the river, well down stream.
Keith & Colleen had received a request to provide hospitality to VIP guests from Flora & Fauna International and Anabela Rodrigues, the delightful Executive Director of SRN (Management Authority of the Reserve) from Maputo, who would be escorting them. Murphy’s Law had them arriving our first weekend in camp and before Col was back. The research assistants were pulled away from their work in the field to prepare tent sites for these important folk. Niassa Reserve Headquarters had also been in a state of preparation when we’d stayed over-night. Tents and mattresses had been delivered the distance to Nkuli Camp in a shoddy state that all had to be cleaned and well aired. Everyone bustled round making sure everything was ship shape. My ears had pricked up when Keith mentioned they were Australian and more so, when the name Rove came up. On first immigrating to Australia I had seen this unusual name in the media as his young wife, a well loved actress had tragically died of cancer. In more recent years I had taken to watching Rove’s self named programme on TV, enjoying his interviewing style and quirky sense of humour – Could this really be the same person? I was curious about this wilderness visit on behalf of Flora and Fauna International as it didn’t quite gel for me.
The day our guests were due, a group of elephants arrived on the far bank, unfortunately they’d all moved off by the time the Niassa Reserve’s modified game-viewing vehicle brought the Australian visitors in – It WAS Rove Macmanus with partner Tasma. We later heard they were on honeymoon although neither of them made any mention of this!
No one quite knew what potential benefits accrued for Niassa Reserve from this carefully orchestrated trip using a chartered plane to bring Rove & Tasma into Mbatamila Reserve HQ for a couple of nights followed by the road journey to visit Nkuli Research Camp. Keith’s rubber-duckie would take them across the Lugenda River to rendezvous with the Park vehicle which had since made the circular route round to meet and take them on to a luxury eco-tourist camp for a few more days. SRN probably footed the bill for this costly exercise considering all the logistics. George and I couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t some kind of junket, riding on the pretext of some fanciful carbon credits scheme. Research work fell by the wayside as Keith spent two days entertaining with game drives and taking Rove down the river in his canoe. Africa time rarely goes according to the clock. When the pick-up vehicle radio-ed to say it was waiting, earlier than expected on the other side of the river, the guests had to beat a somewhat hasty departure. The Australians left without a word of farewell or thanks to the Mozambican staff and during the time we were there, no message came in to counteract the ‘bad taste’ this left in my mouth.
In the middle of their visit, Colleen returned home with Finn. Fortunately they had been able to arrange a flight with a professional hunter from across the river into his hunting concession area. Alone in the camp I’d had to learn to make myself understood as the staff spoke no English and I spoke neither Portuguese nor Swahili. Pedro or Baaboo, as Ella insisted on calling her Carer, came to indicate “Mama” was coming and the three of us dashed down to the river, crossing many sandbanks to get our first glimpse of Col being rowed across with Finn on her lap - what a colonial looking sight – we had to smile! A few days later Agostinho Jorge, the young Mozambican undertaking Field Research for a Masters degree returned the same way to camp. He’d been to a conference in Kruger National Park.
Keith took his mum down the Lugenda River without too many white knuckle momentsWith visitors gone, the Nkuli team all present and correct, work was able to get back underway. Tea and a biscuit would be served around the kitchen fire by 5.30 of a morning followed by land-rovers setting off to check camera traps and dropping George and Dannyboi off with the baboons. I’d never appreciated an early morning cuppa so my day began differently. I remained in the tent catching as many extra winks as possible before Col or Baaboo brought “Iya” as she called herself, safely to my tent. Reading, rhyming and singing songs to Ella became the norm for the next hour – before she helped me dress and we head up to camp for our breakfast cereal together. Finn joined us for breakfast – he was just starting on solids and my goodness, he couldn’t wait to open his mouth for his cereal or any food for that matter. The three of us would walk down to the river with Baaboo. While he did the laundry on a rock we would play. Watch kingfishers hovering above the many watery channels and bee eaters darting after butterflies in this amazingly beautiful place.
One morning Ella, Finn and I were still romping around in my tent when we were summoned to come on a leopard hunt! Isabel, a collared leopard, Keith & Colleen had been observing was in one of their traps. We joined the field crew and two vehicles headed off into the bush. In order not to upset Isabel any more than necessary, Keith stopped some distance off. Ndugu with spear in hand set off on foot with Colleen, the others went in the opposite direction with dart gun and cameras.
Baaboo, the kidlets and I remained with the vehicles. It was a long wait as we listened intently to the angry coughing we could vaguely discern.
It was a good while before Euzebio returned for the other vehicle and drug case and even more time passed before we were called to the actual scene where Isabel, had at last, been successfully and safely sedated. Her collar was removed as Colleen had enough data on this young lady.
Leopard hunting took too long for Finn, he promptly fell asleep!
The WORST of bush life came early, in an unexpected way for me, when unseen and unheard ‘things’ began biting me from my very first morning. Speedily my legs and arms began resembling bubble wrap as they blew up and calmed down according to the temperature. The bites a nightmare of irritation and all I had was a box of 12 anti-histamine tablets. Each, fortunately able to bring some relief over 24 hours, yet more days than that stretched ahead and I had to severely limit them to my most desperate times. Ella would come up with inflamed bumps but nothing like my arms and legs. Fortunately her Johannesburg Gogo had brought a tube of Anthrisan through to Maputo and despite my desperation I couldn’t bring myself to use Ella and Finn’s precious supply. George and Keith mentioned irritating bites around their ankles yet didn’t seem to suffer like me. I quietly endured … for the entire time we were there. No calamine, not even a home remedy of bicarbonate of soda. Down at the river Ella would give me some respite when she’d exfoliate my legs and feet with cold wet sand. During the heat of an afternoon while Ella took her afternoon nap I’d use my hairbrush to frantically brush my limbs. Later, simply standing in the cool running river eased my itches.
Well into our second week I couldn’t help remarking to George, as we made for bed shortly after 6 p.m. (as was the way of life out bush) that after all my expectations of the night – the ordinariness was somewhat disappointing! NOT that I wanted anything close by but simply to hear a hyena cackling or an elephant trumpeting in the distance would make life in the wilds more real. As per usual, George promptly fell asleep, exhausted from his long day walking with baboons. I’d read a while with an ear cast in any direction for an unusual sound. That very night I was suddenly woken by a cracking branch followed by vacuuming like breathing incredibly close beside me. I held my breath and listened intently. For sure there was an elephant between our chilundu and the bush on my side as I could hear its stomach rumbling as its trunk sniffed and blew on the sandy path so close to my head! I nervously woke George who simply grunted and turned over mumbling we’d be fine. I found the suspense of lying stiffly beside him too unbearable and quietly got onto my knees to peer out of the back gauze window to see anything. Mercy me - I found myself staring straight into the mouth of an elephant calmly chomping at leaves, its trunk was stretching for in the tree above us. It was amazing and the elephant seemed quite unperturbed by the close proximity of humans. I’d barely lain down again when George tapped me and indicated the close proximity of the elephant as if it was all so new… Hello, what about the last half hour! This was my first introduction to Half Ear or Halfie as Ella referred to him, a very regular visitor around the camp perimeter as I was to learn.
Half Ear often loitered around the outskirts of the camp
A couple of nights later, I turned my headlamp off as I could hear a most irregular sound. For a good hour or more I lay trying to identify what it actually sounded like and finally came up with very quiet munching or rasping- perhaps going on in the thatch above my head. This brought me to thinking of Harvester ants and no sooner did I think of ants than I felt something bite me. And again, that I chided myself for allowing my mind to be led this way. Another nip and I turned on the torch to see…. ANTS in my bed! Simultaneously, George woke to say something was nipping him. When he saw we were being inundated by fire ants, he applied his ‘everyman for himself’ principle and leapt to his feet grabbing his shorts. A bad mistake … as in pulling on his pants, found they were crawling in ants that had him instantly dancing a weird jig which in turn had swarms of formigas raining down from the roof of the tent, attacking us. The more ants we crushed, the more viciously others attacked. George’s antics had Lea quite beside herself with laughter as she madly brushed away at the ants on our mattress with her hair brush, while grabbing the little blighters stinging her neck and body as they fell on her. Ants firmly attached to the most vulnerable part of his anatomy, George could not get out of the tent fast enough, tripping over the entrance flap in the process and falling headlong into another few million covering the ground outside. After my numerous requests to George, asking for the Doom (insect spray) on the outside table failed, I retrieved it myself amidst the onslaught of ants, only to see a stark naked husband doing the Highland fling in the moonlight! My mirth, under these critical circumstances went beyond control. The more he danced, telling me the sky was raining ants and to clear out of the tent, the more I was seized by laughter. A very liberal application of Doom finally brought the attack under control within the tent and despite the heavy fug that hung over the interior, George returned to bed and tried to sleep while my shaking body relived the whole wretched situation over and over again. A shattering but oh so amusing night!
Fire Ants on the move! Woe-be-tide, should you cross their path.
Keith & Colleen forgot to mention how these ants can over-run a place.
In the dark silence I heard my first lion roar safely away in the distance and promptly disturbed George’s deep sleep thinking he’d enjoy listening to real African bush noise at last - he was too tired to care! Within the hour I heard the lion again only this time far closer and I could also hear cracking sounds of trees reverberating not far from our tent – almost like gunshot – definitely elephant close by too. The sound of strong winds followed by the thumping of nuts raining down as elephants strenuously shook Ilala palms was also to be heard. Our piece of Niassa was erupting with noise tonight and I could feel my tension rising and skin prickling uneasily. Within next to no time the gut curdling sounds of more than one lion seemed to surround the camp and I felt certain they must be after the remaining goat and waited anxiously for that final bleat. The grunting and pacing that seemed to be going on was quite horrifying and I was convinced I could hear a lion on our path. Imagination or not, with no bed to get under, I began trying to burrow under George. The air reeked of primeval fear and it seemed everything lay low, waiting in expectation. When silence returned it was a welcome relief yet I found it difficult to fall asleep with adrenalin still flowing through my system. Shortly before day began we heard the low grunts of the lions returning. They passed down the back gully and as soon as the men were up they followed the spoor. It was to be found all around Nkuli Camp and down our path to within a metre of my tent!
The next day Keith returned to camp saying “Climb aboard - Milola and Max have a kill close by”. I was far from certain I wanted to climb aboard his particularly open and vulnerable camera Landy to go and see lions and yet seeing Ella excitedly climb up with Baaboo and Finn - How could I not! I felt much better when Keith put down the rather flimsy canvas drops all around. Off he drove, bundu bashing his way into the thickest area off to the side of our camp. Euzebio, picking up signals from Milola’s collar directed the driver – what a hammering this vehicle could withstand. Through the front of the Landy Keith and Col spotted Milola and as we all turned to see him- he charged in a show of protecting his meal before shooting off into long grass while Max simply faded into the shadows.
Mention must be made of “Kup-Kup”!
“Kup-Kup” is an annual Field Season fowl, usually bought on the point of lay, to provide eggs for Ella. Each and every one seems to have become a character around the camp and this edition, no less so in a short space of time. Col explained that all have had an instinctive fear of the open space and will always be found close to a human. How true that proved to be. As soon as Ella & I arrived for our breakfast Kup-Kup would join us, rushing over from where ever Alberto happened to be doing the morning sweep with the inimitable broom of twigs. No doubt in my mind, she knew a rice krispie or two would be in the offing as just like a dog, Kup-Kup knew where there were children - food was likely to fall. Etched into my memory will forever be Kup-Kup, realising she was alone in either the Field Assistant’s camp or ours and running at a desperate pace, down the bush path between the two; her lanky legs pumping wildly; head straining forward in an enormous effort to reach the safety zone of the other, like a top athlete is wont to do at the finish line. Every time I saw her making the mad dash I thought of the cartoon Desert Road-runner that amused me as a kid. Personally I think poor Kup-Kup suffered a vivid imagination like mine!
Long before the setting sun the children went up to bed. Like clockwork, Kup-Kup too ascended into the safety of the Thorn tree alongside the kitchen.
Consternation arose when George and Keith began planning a trip to Chimambo together. How would I ever cope on my own let alone sleep so far away from everyone - the idea was too alarming for words. Colleen kindly offered the ‘dressing tent’ underneath their sleeping platform, when I voiced my anxiety. That threw me into a quandary as I always seemed to collect more bites in there when changing Finn’s nappies; its heavy duty canvas was most likely to be hot and airless at night, plus Colleen would constantly be aware of disturbing my sleep as she fed Finn or the kids awoke. My brain froze in neutral.
The day came for Keith to depart making the long round trip to the other side of the Lugenda River and I was down to the last night before George joined him. I tossed and turned wondering what to do until the words of Helen Keller’s came to me -
Security is mostly superstition…. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing” . I decided to ‘give it a go’ and stay in my tent.
Camp retired early as usual the next night with Colleen telling me to “stay put what ever happened” and Agostinho offering to escort me to my tent. A full moon rising, I bravely took myself down with eyes fluttering about in every direction. Not long after I was safe and sound in bed I heard a tree come crashing down quite close by. My thoughts immediately hoped Baaboo wouldn’t rush down the path to see if I was alright when I heard a quick burst of excitable voices in Portuguese shortly followed by Ella crying. When all was calm again I lay there wondering what had initiated alarm up at camp. Half an hour at least passed when suddenly Ella’s panicked cries of mummy vent the air and as her hysteria rose she unexpectedly began shrieking for Gogo- ME! I was galvanized into action; shot out of my tent at the rate of knots pulling shorts over my nightie and yelling “Gogo’s coming” to reassure Ella. I reached the foot of ladder with my heart pounding as Colleen arrived from another direction. Barely time to talk in her haste to get up the ladder to settle her little daughter, she said the field staff had heard a leopard cage slam shut and hared off to see – I could hear the fury in her voice. Back to bed I went musing at my coping skills… Not long after, the distressing shrieks of a Vervet monkey went on and on... It seemed a long time dying, if that is what was happening. Rounding off the evening, I too, heard a leopard cage on my side of camp, slam shut. So passed my first night alone …
The early morning check of camera traps showed that a leopard had narrowly slipped the trap just west of camp the staff had illegally rushed out to, the previous night. The east trap I’d heard contained a leopard. For the first time ever Col went off to dart the leopard and bring it back to camp for identification photographs. It transpired that our leopard Isabel has obviously developed a taste for goat meat, nimbly managing to slip out of the traps before they shut, all too often of late but not this time. Disappointed not to have a new leopard to monitor Isabel was re-collared in an effort to prevent her being darted too often. The cameras revealed that after she was trapped another leopard arrived on the scene. Perhaps this unknown creature had knocked off the monkey. All in all, the camera photographs and time keeping provided a salutary lesson to the staff.
That evening, with Col up in her sleeping quarters putting her children to sleep, I sat outside the camp perimeter enjoying the sunset when an unexpected roar sent me scuttling to the kitchen fire much to the amusement of Jombo & Baaboo. A LION down on the river sand next to my tent was too unbelievable. Even Col smiled to herself from her spot up high thinking I’d never sleep down there tonight. Fortunately he didn’t hang around too long and I had a relatively peaceful night, and all four nights alone were achieved in my chilindu.
During our time here the flow of Lugenda River had eased considerably. Ella & I wandered at will across many of the sand bars with barely a backward glance!
The morning of George’s return we received a message over the radio advising us that Keith would also be returning home around 9.30a.m bringing Mwe-Nandi and the followers of Chimambo for a “fiestas”. No numbers given. We were in a flat spin as rubber duckie was pumped up and along with the canoe, taken over to the other side of the river to await their imminent arrival. In the kitchen, Jombo was frantically making dough for bread and cutting up tomatoes, onions and frozen sausages in readiness for a stew. My offer to help was turned down and Col remarked that Jombo liked to be in control! Looking back on our time here, this proved the case. During the first week George had torn his shorts leaping out of the Landy. I was in the midst of sewing them up with dental floss when Jombo came over to see what I was busy doing only to be impelled to take over, in the nicest way. So too, when George was busy constructing a wendy house/ jungle gym for Ella I had a good snigger when a war in body language took place between two determined old men in building the ladder as neither wanted to ‘lose face’…
Africa time came into play again. After rushing around making ready for the fiestas, we hung around waiting and waiting as the clock ticked on to midday. Notification of their arrival came with whistles and singing echoing across the river. Immediately our reception party headed off down to the river to greet the guests. Mwe-Nandi, a dear old man with hardly any teeth was ceremonially rowed over first by Keith and deposited on the sand bank where we awaited and as soon as Keith returned with George, they walked him up to the camp. It took some time getting everyone across the water and up the hot sand to the cool confines of the Nkuli boma. Col and I escorted the five important woman amongst who was the nattily dressed and imposing Mama Therese an ex Freelimo freedom fighter, a delightful character.
We gathered together in the communal hut for the fiestas…
Mwe-Nandi, puffing away on his cigarette sat with his wife in pride of place. I helped Jombo dispense hospitality while Ella and Finn entertained everyone, as only children know how. Finn kept smiling widely as he was passed round the ever growing circle to be smothered in hugs and kisses. It took some doing stretching out the food and yet according to Keith, while waiting for everyone to assemble at his Landy across the river for the final leg of their journey home, they cooked up nshima (maize meal). Perhaps the spaghetti hadn’t been filling enough.
Time in Niassa was running out fast and in those closing days I became quite emotional knowing that a month of noon sleeps and early morning stories in Gogo’s tent were almost at an end. During my visit, Ella had quickly potty trained herself with little help from me – maybe the jelly snakes from her surrogate granny Holly - known affectionately as “S” had been the incentive. What ever! This two year old lass, with a very independent air had been wonderful company even when she ordered me around in an imperious manner. Last lunch hour together was bitter sweet as this small girl “Iya” unexpectedly clung to my neck like a limpet and fell asleep forcing me to reflect on the wonderful times experienced with my bush babies. The early morning I had romped with Ella and Finny, totally unaware of grey ghosts surrounding us until an urgent whisper reached my ears “Gogo! Oliphanties” Trying to catch the attention of noisy occupants in the tent was Baaboo; creeping quietly up to the back of the tent to rescue us. I barely believed my eyes, seeing all the bull elephants and handed over Finny before deciding there was no way I could bravely take the gap with Ella. Instead she and I jumped back into bed and covered our heads, lying quietly for an age before peeking out. Once they’d moved down to the river the two of us ran like the wind to main camp and watched them trample around in our playground.
Love is ….
Just when I think I have written everything up - other incidents and encounters come to mind that I realise it is impossible to commit all to print. Plenty of game did cross our paths over the time… a kudu family came to drink; bush buck barking at night had me sleepily think I was back in suburbia with dogs; sable, zebra, warthogs watched us on our travels and hyenas whooped to the light of the moon. My fears of having to exist on dried fish, cassava and rice studded with weevils never ever materialised. Goat meat – YES! And IT was the one who jumped the fence with shackled hooves on arrival in camp; led Jombo and Pedro a merry dance across the river another day and even later, made a run for freedom attached to a tree trunk that was supposed to hamper movement and keep him within a grazing area. I shouldn’t have got to know him!
To end our stay an afternoon picnic at the picturesque hippo pools for the Begg family took place. Finn fell asleep on his granny’s lap as we arrived which allowed her to stay put in the Landy and pull herself together while everyone else headed down onto the rocks to swim and fish, to the haunting sounds of the hippopotami.
A thorn in Keith’s foot necessitated Colleen digging it out with George’s fish hook while Ella rendered sympathy for this “owwee”
We could only wave blindly at the Nkuli team as we drove out with our son Keith accompanied by Dannyboi, who had never been anywhere north of his village before. Backtracking our way to Lichinga over the next two days and flying away from this precious family of ours that live such extraordinary lives in the wilderness - we could only hope that we’d return sooner rather than later.
The Nkuli Team - Ndugu, Agostinho, Finn, Keith, Euzebio, Dannyboi
Jomba, Col & Ella, Pedro (Baaboo)
