The northern Mozambican town of Pemba, 240km south of the
Tanzanian border - not to be confused with Pemba Island, off Zanzibar, is
sprawled across the mouth of the world’s third largest natural harbour and the
hotels spread out along Wimbe Beach. As a result of a recent find of Anadarkoi
Gas - food and accommodation prices have soared and Keith had difficulty
finding two rooms for the night. Eventually he found two units in Resort de
Caracol (snail) overlooking a busy road and the very tropical eastern side of
Wimbe Beach. Once we had settled in we caught a taxi up to Kauri Hotel for
'afternoon supper' in a lovely situation. Ella slept with me that night and in
the morning we returned to Kauri Hotel for breakfast while Keith organised
another way of getting me into Niassa as they would be four up in the truck
with Oscar perched on the back guarding all the supplies for the long, hot, ten
hour drive to Lugenda River with Nculi Camp the other side.
It was hard to stay behind and watch them drive off after a
late lunch. I didn’t venture out as a lone woman, thanks to inner fears
promptly rising as Africa’s security issues in general drifted around in the
back of my mind. Instead I passed the long afternoon and night in my unit.
Fortunately I was able to read ‘time’ away from the pleasant balcony attached to
my first floor unit until mozzie time. This enabled me to watch the world
pass by... Out on the well swept beach, school children carried out their afternoon
physical activities under shrill whistles from teachers. That night, Carlos introduced himself at my
door, kindly checked on my welfare and advised I’d be collect next morning at 8
for breakfast at Pemba Beach Hotel with a flight to Lugenda Lodge leaving at
10a.m.
Unlike George a few years back I was not forgotten!
Everything ran accordingly- Carlos, Derek and Paula found me clutching my pillow
and little bag and drove me through to the strikingly beautiful Arabic styled
architecture and sweeping lawns and palms trees of Pemba Beach Hotel. I truly
felt as if I had fallen onto a page of “Out of Africa” reliving those romantically
extravagant times and it continued on, after the fine breakfast. Carlos, Derek
and Paula (I’d met this delightful couple on my previous visit to Nculi Camp)
work for RANI AFRICA, who own both
Pemba Beach Hotel and Lugenda Lodge on the vast LUWIRE Hunting Concession along
the Lugenda River. Over breakfast Paula asked if I’d mind delivering the
salaries of 120 employees of the Lodge, into the safe hands of Imogen. My ‘pillow’ became the vault! Two Americans
had chartered a flight to Lugenda Lodge and I took up the spare seat. The
glorious two hour flight gave me a bird’s eye view of remote Northern
Mozambique with its wide seams of patchwork bush, the odd rural village, dry
sandy river beds, a rare road and spectacular granite inselbergs rising out of
the earth. We followed a short section of the mighty Lugenda River before looping
over the airfield to check for obstacles in animal form. (No wildlife herds were spotted during the
flight – quite different to the Africa of long ago methinks!)
On landing, the quintessential game-viewing landy sped up the runway and as we unfolded ourselves out of the plane we were greeted by a big burly game ranger Nic and his young sidekicks. I was presented with a tray of little towels, rolled and chilled and, it was only after I’d politely accepted did I realize they were for the two Lodge guests. Before I could apologise we were all distracted by a vehicle haring up towards us. It was George and Oscar. With pillow firmly under my arm, Oscar took us to the Lodge and I shot in a back entrance past the kitchens before a waiter helped me locate Imogen and I handed over the ‘bank’. This lovely English girl of fair complexion had barely been there a month and I couldn’t resist asking what had brought her to these remote parts- she answered simply “David”! Then I had to dash back to the truck as we had another two hour leg to do before reaching Nculi Camp. As we trundled the wild track downriver George mentioned meeting a vehicle on their way up and the driver had turned out to be John and Joan Langerman’s son. Quirk of fate! His mother had been one of my first pupils in Kariba and when she married a Fisheries Institute man, as I had – she moved into our very house and their son David had grown up in the very same room we had built onto the tiny house for our Keith. Now here the men were, working a stone throw from each other unaware of the coincidences. I couldn’t resist taking the short detour into Lusingi Camp (also part of the LUWIRE Hunting Concession) to briefly meet David since he had extended an invitation to ‘call in’ on the return trip.
On landing, the quintessential game-viewing landy sped up the runway and as we unfolded ourselves out of the plane we were greeted by a big burly game ranger Nic and his young sidekicks. I was presented with a tray of little towels, rolled and chilled and, it was only after I’d politely accepted did I realize they were for the two Lodge guests. Before I could apologise we were all distracted by a vehicle haring up towards us. It was George and Oscar. With pillow firmly under my arm, Oscar took us to the Lodge and I shot in a back entrance past the kitchens before a waiter helped me locate Imogen and I handed over the ‘bank’. This lovely English girl of fair complexion had barely been there a month and I couldn’t resist asking what had brought her to these remote parts- she answered simply “David”! Then I had to dash back to the truck as we had another two hour leg to do before reaching Nculi Camp. As we trundled the wild track downriver George mentioned meeting a vehicle on their way up and the driver had turned out to be John and Joan Langerman’s son. Quirk of fate! His mother had been one of my first pupils in Kariba and when she married a Fisheries Institute man, as I had – she moved into our very house and their son David had grown up in the very same room we had built onto the tiny house for our Keith. Now here the men were, working a stone throw from each other unaware of the coincidences. I couldn’t resist taking the short detour into Lusingi Camp (also part of the LUWIRE Hunting Concession) to briefly meet David since he had extended an invitation to ‘call in’ on the return trip.
Adding to my romantic spirit of Africa transportation - we
arrived opposite Nculi Camp with the red canoe waiting to ferry us across this
familiar place on the river despite changes wrought by floods and ever changing
river conditions. I was relieved not to be crossing it late at night as Keith,
Col, Ella and Finn had done the previous night unaware that Bumpa was
sleeplessly worrying about the non arrival of his family (had he forgotten
‘Africa Time’?). Under a hot sun we trudged up the river sands – George limping
as his feet and ankles were not in good order. Angry, swollen sores - a result
of grass seeds having speared their way into his skin while clearing the bush,
were constantly bothered by flies. Soon the big spreading Sausage tree surrounded
by a few Winter Thorn trees that shelter Nculi (Honey badger) Camp came into
sight and old Jomba rushed out to greet me with big hugs as he planted a kiss
on each cheek despite his diminutive size, closely followed by Pedro (Babu)
with his more effusive verbal greeting, of which I only understood “Gogo”! YES, I had finally arrived at this remote
little spot in Africa in a most stylishly different manner to what I’d expected,
to begin my three month adventure. Virtually a month later the Begg family were
all together again with Ella and Finn eager to relate their late night arrival
after the long distance travelled to reach their bush home and the close encounters they’d had with an
elephant, a leopard and a porcupine on the road. As darkness set in we retired to our tents.
George readily fell asleep with the birds and I was faced with the awful
reality of the long nights ahead (beginning at 6 p.m. sometimes even earlier),
thus a routine evolved to cope with my strings of dark hours. That first night,
I heard distant calls of hyena and later I awoke to their close proximity
confirming I was back in darkest Africa but George was there and I comfortingly
cuddled up to him.
George’s
journey to Nculi...
Since
leaving Cape Town it took Keith and I thirteen days to reach Nculi camp, a
distance of over 5 000km, but I could scarcely contain my joy at being back in
the wilds of northern Mozambique.
Nculi Camp
on the edge of the Lugenda River in the Niassa Reserve
In
spite of a 3 day long stop-over in Maputo for Keith to attend a meeting and the
seemingly endless, uncomfortable hours spent in the cab of the Land Cruiser
driving from dawn until dusk with nothing but a few of Lea’s rusks to eat;
weaving across pot-holed roads lined by stallholders selling everything from
bottles of piri-piri to fruit, cashews, firewood and ilala wine; hooting at the
bicycles, goats, chickens and children that all seemed to take great delight in
appearing unexpectedly from the tall grass alongside the road; and holding our
breath whilst waiting behind slow-moving buses or trucks belching diesel fumes
into the air – it had been an interesting journey. En route we’d called in to
see Ant and Pat White (old acquaintances from our Kariba days, now running a
most impressive sawmill and furniture making business in central Mozambique);
to see the newly established Environment Centre attached to the Gorongosa
National Park (a park I had last visited with Lea 42 years ago); we’d crossed
the newly built 2.5km long bridge over the Lower Zambesi River where in 2009
we’d had to cross on a rickety old pontoon; and while taking a short cut to
Niassa had been intrigued by sights such as the tea estates on the foot-slopes
of Mt Namuli (at Gurué);
relics of the war in the form of Russian made T52 tanks now rusting in the
fields, and array after array of the most stunning granite inselbergs. At times
I felt as if I was participating in a type of Paris-Dakar rally - an event I
silently termed the Land Cruiser
Challenge. The only difference was that we were the only vehicle involved
and the spectators were on the road instead of watching safely from the
sidelines. Keith drives so hard and fast I am sure Australia’s late Peter Brock
would have been proud of him but fortunately, apart from an old man that fell
off his bicycle in his haste to get off the road, the only fatality was a
chicken!
Inselbergs of Northern Mozambique, the new bridge over Zambesi River and a Gorongosa lion.
After
an absence of over 5 months from Nculi Camp there was much to do. All their
equipment, left stored in a container at the reserve headquarters (a six hour
drive away on a badly eroded track) had to be brought in; communications
established by re-connecting their satellite dish; facilities such as a new
long drop toilet prepared and since the passage of another rainy season, the
overgrown access roads leading to the camp cleared. Using Keith’s much
battered, but trusty, 10 year old Land Rover with its fuel tank held in place
by wire, a badly cracked chassis and very dodgy steering my first week was
spent doing little else than re-open tracks with a crew of 5-6, keep pangas and
axes sharpened and keep the crew supplied with tools, water and food. As the
team supervisor I often felt like one of those dreadful people one sees on the
movies guarding chain gangs in America, but at least I didn’t have to resort to
carrying a shotgun!
Clearing roads
Returning to Lea’s first week in camp hopefully gives a
bigger picture of life as it was lived out there because I am more garrulous! George
would be long gone when I arose each morning as many wakeful hours of ‘compulsive
listening’ each night required an extra kip in the safety of light. Just as I had on my first visit, I returned
to the pattern formed then of watching the dawn break; another forty winks and
a read before rising to wash in the basin of once warm water delivered well
before dawn. On our previous visit the children would come for stories and a
romp but this time they were instructed to give Gogo ‘her time’ while I
considered it their family time. At another point in time to come Ella and Finn
gleefully crept up on Eland chilindu making ‘scare noises’ and I’d react
theatrically much to their delight. In my closing days they’d sometimes arrive,
each with a book in hand for me to read – extra warm fuzzies became moments to
remember.
Close on eight that first morning I strode up the path, lined
with fairly thick undergrowth to main
camp, only to have my adrenalin triggered as a thick tail end of a creamy brown
snake denoting a decent sized cobra, crossed in front of me. While on the second night, I arose to a call of
nature and mid stream a loud ‘bark’ sent me scuttling for the tent with heart
thumping wildly as I frantically tried to find the zip to reopen the doorway. This awoke George. He assured me I’d made a bush buck twitchy, as they grazed behind
the tent. He came out and enabled me to finish my pee. My nightly anti malaria
prophylactic needed to be taken with plenty of water. Retiring early
necessitated two risings in the course of the night and after that palpitation
of the heart I found myself ‘hanging on’ grimly until George’s bladder required
emptying and then I’d have company out
there in the scary shadows and noises of the night.
Calm days and noisy nights!
Come the third night, after a long wait for George to rise, we were pee-ing outside when a short, sharp
strangled noise vent the air. My agitation wasn’t to be soothed by the l-o-n-g
thought required by George, before he decided it could have been a buffalo. A
bit later my ears ascertained munching and grass being cropped close to the
tent which further tensioned my nerves. Ever closer it came until George’s
sleep was disturbed. He nudged me saying it was the resident bull hippo living
in the main channel of our stretch of river. In time I was to become much
attuned to ‘Ottopotts’ nightly visits. Further disturbances sullied my heartbeat
that night. In the early hours, grunting
broke out and as we lay listening to the sounds occurring a couple of hundred
yards away, we came to the decision it was a lion protecting his buffalo kill –
tying in with the odd sound we’d heard earlier in the night. Wrong! Keith
explained the strange guttural noises had been two bull hippos fighting in the
river. Hard to believe but definitely
correct as no vultures circled and no lions were picked up by radio tracking,
anywhere near camp.
George rose around 5 each morning for work, taking the oldest
landy to collect and stockpile rock, bamboo, straw, poles and river sand. Every
morning the landy had to be push-started and kept idling throughout the day to
accomplish the tasks required of it – carting heavy loads back and forth. It
finally gave up, my first Saturday in camp, necessitating George to walk the 20km back home; his team
of ten preferring to remain and sleep out if necessary. The next day a family
outing took place as Colleen and Keith were keen to see Mariri before the big meeting with the Chiefs and Headmen of the
area scheduled a couple of days later. This was the site George was overseeing
with a team of men, clearing virgin bush for the new Environmental Centre that
was to be the crown in Keith and Colleen’s Concession Area. Oscar joined us, as
he was required to get the old landy, stranded out bush, up and running again.
Eagerly we set off bumping and rattling our way along the picturesque road that
took us through the back-plains that separated the two camps each with a
wonderful collection of baobabs spread along the way; passing groves of the
graceful ilala palms swaying in the breeze; winding between the tall forests of
near leafless panga-panga trees; churning through the dry river beds;
periodically stopping to interpret the masses of animal spoor criss-crossing
the road; waving to the troops of baboons which would sit eyeing us
disdainfully from the safety of their ant-heap thrones; watching a family of
ground hornbills break into lumbering flight and admiring the rugged granite
domes of Lipumbulu and Mariri towering
above the surrounding veld. These were moments that make life amazing.
Grass cut back, paths cleared along the river frontage and
the building sites cleared – it was easy to understand the layout of the future
Environmental Centre of Keith and Colleen’s vision. George had done a sterling
job with his team. We all had a picnic of oranges at one of the
fine viewpoints overlooking the Lugenda River with the granite domes of
Lipumbulu further up river. I gained my first inkling that George would be
camping at Mariri once he had cleared around this view point and formed a camp;
my heart thudded into my ‘boots’. While
GPS positions were taken Ella and Finn took a walk down to the some rocks down
at the river edge we could see from the cliff top. We had no sooner taken a
hippo path down than we spotted a good size turtle and in the excitement called
for a camera – only this was a terrapin as turtles are sea creatures and from
then on that spot was Terrapin Rock
although we never saw it again. That
night, ‘musical beds’ occurred! With
only three books in my possession I had to strictly ration myself. My precious I-pod came into its own with audio books stored upon it to hopefully
lull me into sleepy mode. While Plugged into Theodore Roosevelt’s autobiography
I felt a few ‘midges’ bite my hand as I held the I-pod connection to my ear
phones as they would work loose and madden George with an unexpected loud voice!
Doubts about midges arose, when I felt a couple of stings on my hip and I
pressed my night light. In its limited beam I saw ants and alerted George.
Exactly as happened on that previous occasion in 2009, George leapt to his feet,
knocked the canvas and sent a shower of ants downwards onto my head and
shoulders. In his torch light we
realised we were UNDONE! Ants, ants, ants... As it was only 8.30 at night
George went to report the ant invasion to Keith and he came down from his platform
home and helped settle us into Buffalo Tent with some blankets. Buffalo was
closer to camp and very open so when ‘nature’ duly called at 3 a.m., I popped
outside only to feel my feet being attacked with stinging bites. I danced a weird
jig in an attempt to get rid of the ants and find a ‘wee spot’ before
scampering back to the tent. However, I soon realized that we were under
another far worse invasion as the ground outside was alive with ants and yelped
to George. His torch revealed a heaving black mass within the tent and outside,
the white sands surrounding the tent and the paths leading away teemed with
black movement. We scarpered back to Eland tent, threw out the bedding and
spent the next two hours fighting off the tail end of the regiment still
marauding around our tent as we huddled under my sarong. Relief the night was
over had us both arise in the predawn to warm ourselves beside Jomba’s kitchen
fire in readiness for the customary tea and biscuit. My presence cause a stir
as I never partook in this time honoured dawn practice. Later in the day while
reading a favourite story - ‘Pookie,
the rabbit with wings’ of my childhood, Ella had picked out of her library
– I completely lost focus before many pages had turned and that dear little
girl cuddled up and said “sleep, Gog’s, we’ll read when you wake up” and I
passed out. That night, in the midst of
sleep, the Begg four had to evacuate to Buffalo tent as marching ants took over
their platform home. No place was safe from Formiga-
Ants!
Camp was always very
busy – so much going on. George away all
day arriving home hot and dirty to bath in the river while Keith battled to get
the satellite dish working for communications and supervise never ending vehicles
repairs so that all were up and running
before he left for Pemba to collect their first American visitors. On the Wednesday, Keith and Colleen set off
for Mbamba Village for a meeting with the four Chiefs and the Headmen – Why so
many for a village of 2,000? This was a throwback from colonial days and the
Bush War when all were brought together in ‘protected places’. After the
meeting Keith and Colleen were bringing them all to Mariri to show them over
the site so that they would be involved from the ground up in their partnership
with Keith and Colleen (George will explain more). Meanwhile back in Nculi Camp
my most special daily undertaking was home schooling Ella, which I had started
back in Cape Town. On completing our morning of school we helped Jomba and Babu
straighten up camp, set out the chairs for lunch and awaited the arrival of the
Chiefs Party for lunch. We prepared for 11 and seventeen arrived, lining up
with Jomba to greet and welcome everyone, direct them to the chairs and provide
cool drinks. On this occasion lunch was delayed as the poaching problem was
broached and it went on forever with the kids starving – so I dug into a tin
trunk and gave them something to keep the ‘wolf
from the door’ and this phrase entered their vocabulary thereafter. When lunch
was eventually served the kids and I dashed back and forth with plates of Jomba’s
chicken stew with rice for the visitors, washed plates in an effort to get
everyone fed – an eventful occasion. [For more information see: Niassa lion
Project – Facebook or www.niassalion.org]
That evening George arrived home running a temperature just
as dinner went on the table. Finn needed the loo and I rushed him out to the
‘Long Drop’. As I lifted him onto the seat, CALAMITY struck! My dark glasses
attached to my neckline caught his head, flipped over the top of him and fell
down that long, dark pit much to Ella and Finn’s hilarity – although it was
more likely to have been at my aghast and thunderstruck face! They raced back to
camp to tell everyone chuckling madly and the laughter spread! Funny! Yes, but
an utter disaster as they were my only pair. George understood my plight; he
knew how deep the glasses had fallen as he helped get the latrine built on his
arrival AND, it couldn’t be a worse place to lose one’s glasses! I was totally
distracted during supper as my mind worked through the consequences of such a
loss... Col reassured me saying there
could be no better time that now, while it was still a newly dug pit. Horrors never the less and I had to force my
imagination not to go there. Despite feeling feverish my husband had Francesco
find the longest bamboo in camp (language barriers create the most humorous
moments and one occurred here but with minds in another gear it wasn’t fully
appreciated as George set about creating a hook
before telling his squeamish wife to shine the torch down the pit. I DID
NOT wish to see ANYTHING... As he retrieved them I was off like a long-dog and
the good man cleaned them up before soaking them in Dettol. It took 24 hours before I managed to get mind over matter
and begin wearing them again.
Later, George was seen to - Keith had to lance his Dad’s septic ankles and put him on a course of anti-biotic and he endured a bad night until the fever broke in the early hours.
The last day of May, I had happily survived my first week in
camp. The men left in different directions at first light, Keith crossed the
river and departed for Pemba with Oscar. George was off to spend his first
night in Mariri Camp. Substantial piles of building material stocked up there required
his presence, particularly as at 4 o‘clock that afternoon the Nculi men and all
the temporary workers would depart for the village in readiness for 1 June ‘Day
of the Children’ - a public holiday or FESTA. The adults begin celebrating the
night before. All day I psyched myself
up for a night alone in Eland chilundu
with two women and two children in camp and no vehicle! As soon as the staff left we ate our supper of
rice and sardines (this became our set menu when alone like this) followed by a
walk down the river and by 5.30 we were all IN bed and as I lay looking out at
the fast fading light I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I plugged in my
ear phones - only I didn’t reckon on my nervous disposition out in the wild
without my husband and plugs in my ears simply exacerbated the situation... I
found I was happier reading by torch with tiny flying critters flicking
annoyingly around my face while my ears detected anything that wasn’t in the
general white noise orchestra of nature created by the steady songs of
different species of crickets and frogs as river rapids washed through. No
fearsome sounds erupted at all although the white crowned plovers unsettled me
as they shrieked up and down the dry river side channel alongside me, for some
unknown reason. George returned to Nculi
for one night and just as quickly he was back at Mariri full time as Hortensio began
his work there as a new Nculi member on 2 June... Only to go down with bad
Malaria the very next day as did most of the staff over coming weeks.
George
continues ...
For
me, the prime purpose of being back in Niassa was to help Keith and Colleen
“kick start” the Niassa Carnivore Project’s Environment Centre, it being
located below the towering granite domes of Mt. Mariri some 20km upstream from
Nculi Camp. In time the site became locally known as Campu Mariri, so bear with me then if, for a moment, I provide a
little of the background to the venture.
In
essence, having set up what is known as the Ratel Trust and awarded the tender
for the management of an 800km² tract of land (known as L5 South) inside the
Niassa Reserve, Keith and Colleen, in partnership with the neighbouring Mbamba
Village (of 2000 people) are currently negotiating a 25 year contract with the
Ministry of Tourism to continue operating in the area. Through their trips to
America they have also secured a partnership with the Houston Zoo which has
committed matching funds for the construction of the Environment Centre as a
permanent facility.
With
what can only be described as missionary-like zeal Keith and Colleen’s vision
is “to foster a positive relationship
between Niassa’s people and wildlife conservation through bush visits,
conservation education and practical training in alternative and sustainable
livelihoods”. Their objectives are
to provide Niassa Reserve children with an opportunity to experience the
wildlife and wilderness of Niassa by engaging in conservation activities in a
safe, positive and interactive way; to reduce human-wildlife conflicts and
empower the Mbamba community through employment and the provision of
alternative income generating activities. Thus, by developing a variety of
social initiatives and outreach programmes through community awareness and
education, they hope to embrace all the measures that complement the
conservation, preservation and protection of wildlife in the Niassa Reserve;
anything in fact that leads to safe guarding the natural environment through
such things as anti-poaching measures, de-snaring and elimination of the
bush-meat trade. A big ask – yes, indeed
– but it could also be a completely new community centred approach to the
conservation of what must be one of the most significant and unique protected
areas left in Africa.
And
so it was, given this background that, for the months that followed I dived in
boots and all, acting as a volunteer, hoping to build the nucleus of what one
day could become a locally important resource; supervising the activities of
some 30 workers recruited from the village of Mbamba, most without any
experience in construction; helping source and collect the materials needed for
construction of the Centre (sand, stones, bamboo, poles and grass); clearing
the site; establishing firebreaks; building a campsite for myself and a
compound for the construction team; training people in the use of equipment
such as a bench grinder, chain saw, water pump and a variety of tools ... in
the process scarcely ever seeing the family; leaving Lea to put up with all
those nasty things that creep around at night all on her own; contending with
sores on my legs that for some strange reason would go septic at the drop of a
hat and leading what can be described as a fairly Spartan existence.
Storing thatching grass on racks; building of a chilindu at my campsite; collecting locally sourced poles; chain saw training
The broad, strongly flowing, multi-channelled Lugenda,
carrying water all the way from the border of Malawi to its confluence with the
Rovuma on the southern border of Tanzania, must be one of the most enchanting
in Africa. Nculi camp overlooks one of its major channels and there, alongside
its sandy banks, thickly wooded islands and semi-emergent rocks the kids and I
spent hours and hours entertaining ourselves - splashing around in the
shallows; clambering over exposed rocks and the remains of the tree-trunks
carried downstream during floods, now lying partly buried by sand; examining
the fish traps (barriers of reeds and sand) built by local fisherman; watching
waterbirds and identifying the bewildering array of footprints and trails left
behind by the multitude of creatures, both large and small that, like us,
visited the river each day; and carrying any “treasures” discovered back home.
The steadily receding river level also meant that each week the nature of our
playground changed with remarkable rapidity, an ever expanding expanse of sand
and shallows not only giving us different things to do but also enabling access
to new places to explore. That’s the
Lugenda for you –a river system that lets you appreciate the wonder of where
you are and what you are doing. This life blood of Nculi Camp was surprisingly
free of the dreaded bilharzias snail, which from childhood I’d been lead to
believe was the curse of Africa’s rivers. Buckets and basins were never
endingly walked back and forth for our domestic use. Jomba always had a drum
keeping warm for anyone needing a shower and although I never saw water boiling
for drinking, the bottles of smoke tainted water were always available... No
matter how I tried to ignore that awful taste by swallowing it down as fast as
I could in the early days I soon succumbed to a light dosing of Oros – an
orange cordial despite generally being anathema to me. Even then I didn’t drink
as much water as my body was used to and there were days I craved plain
water! Holly’s birthday present of a
special bottle with an inbuilt filter required a lengthy settling time before
the smokey taste was gone and I was loath to cart it around since I am a gulper
not a sipper ( It was reassuring night water should fear leave me with a dry
mouth though).
Outdoor education revolved around the river... I told the
children about their English cousins racing ‘Pooh sticks’ and over the hours
spent alongside and in the river stick games rapidly changed into more serious
boat racing, harbours and buildings that incorporated roads and the different
requirements for shipping using vocabulary I dredged up from the back of my mind. Sand moulding and sculptures using grades of
wet sand made for wonderful art lessons and naturally swimming and paddling the
length and breadth and Ella and Finn put on the sweetest informal ‘rock’ concerts
and we’d sing our hearts out in that wonderful wide open space.
Collecting marula pips
in the elephant droppings down at the river.
During my 2009 visit, I recalled my meerkat antics with a
neck constantly swivelling in my attempts to guard a 3 year old Ella and Finn
at six months while down at the river finding
it especially nerve racking when a
little voice would say “there’s an elephant” in spite of my constant scanning.
This time, not only did the children and I spend hours together down there with
barely a sideways glance I also enjoyed
a large measure of relaxation wandering our particular stretch of river
frontage alone, when loneliness seeped in missing George.
Sunday 3 June- Keith
radioed in that he was approaching the river crossing with their American guest
Peter and Sara Riger from Houston Zoo in Texas and all Nculi Team went down to
the sand bar opposite to await their arrival. Aside from Donor guests coming in
were all the provisions that had to be ferried across in the canoe and carried
back to camp – An exhausting job especially as Batista had barely recovered
from a nasty bout of boils and Euzebio was weakened with malaria. The village
clinic had given him six packets of different and brightly coloured pills that
had only made him worse so Col was now treating him. A box of 40 kilogram
packets of brown sugar fell into the river and the plastic bags were not
watertight...
Over dinner I raised the Nculi ant problem to which Colleen
quickly reassured Peter and Sara that this cold night would keep them away.
Famous last words to which I added they needed to endure an ant experience as
part of their Nculi adventure! After the exhausting road trip, everyone was
ready to turn in early. I threw a blanket over my bed and no sooner had I
tucked myself in than hippo began grunting as if primed there were American
visitors in camp. In no time he was grazing around my tent and in the bright
moonlight I was able to discern his hazy shape and bright eye- seeing him for
the first and only time albeit not clearly. Some distance off I felt
sure elephant were tugging and shaking trees while across the river hyena were
whooping. The almost full moon had the bats out in full force, swooping up and down the dry side channel and
under the eaves of the chilindu – a mighty spray of urine from one, hit my face
and seemed to fill my ear as I lay listening to the night. Around 9.15 a nip
alerted me to a problem and sure enough my chilindu was under invasion! As
stings and bites came fast and furiously I dug into my bag for a track suit as
I knew I’d have to spend the night on Ella and Finn’s platform cubby-house. I escaped with only a trackie top, my pillow
and my slops which already had ants sinking their nippers into the rubber as I
ran through the night. Silence in main camp- everyone out for the count. However, Jomba saw the flashing light as I
battled to rid my body of these biting critters and on coming to check he
helped remove ants from my hair, neck and back. Once I was free of ants he
produced a brand new mattress that had come in from Pemba earlier and he fixed
me up in the dressing tent below the Begg sleeping platform. No one stirred... and as I stepped onto the
mattress an almighty bite between my toes had me bite my tongue in pain. Was it
a spider? I could see nothing but the pain persisted and I smothered the spot
with zambuk and tried to sleep on this coldest night thus far, steadily wrapping
myself in bits of clothing from the kid’s shelf. The hours passed slowly and I
was aware of every turn in the sleeping bags above me. During the midnight
hours I heard voices and suddenly the tent flap was pulled aside and a bright
torch shone into my eyes – Oops what are you doing here? Keith was about to
put Peter and Sara in here as formiga had forced them to flee! Keith provided us all with lots of
sleeping bags to keep out the nasty chill and enabled us to get a bit of shut
eye till first light. My buckled baby
toe was still throbbing and I asked Ella to take a look and she said a tick-
confirmed by Sara. I couldn’t believe a tick would cause such discomfort. Peter,
keen to get a photo of a tick, prepared his camera while Col went for tweezers...
NO tick! A huge soldier ant had committed kamikaze embedding his mandibles
firmly into my baby toe and the hard black head resembled a tick. Not Nice!
With donors in camp – life changed. Each and every day Keith
and Colleen left to track lions with their guests as soon as tea and biscuits
had been consumed returning for brunch around midday and sometimes later. Ella
was not herself- she had a sore tummy that seemed to come and go and she wasn’t
interested in doing school. That first day we found the packets of sugar
sitting out in the sun steadily melting as other ant species gleefully arrived
to partake of this sweet nectar. I grabbed a huge board of marine ply brought
in the previous day intended for George’s proposed ‘shadow board’ much to Jomba
and Babu’s consternation – Uh! Uh! Uh! Papa Nculi? Ella and Finn tickled by an
obvious situation, helped tear apart a precious magazine, layer pieces across the
plywood resting at an angle across the boundary fence before we covered all with
my cotton sarong. The men, joined by Francisco shook their heads in dismay as
we sorted the packets into order of damage - worst, bad and better piles before
better ones were ripped open and the relatively sticky contents spread across
the sarong. It dried a treat and throughout the day we rescued every packet
with Babu and Francesco mightily impressed with the strategy singing praise for
“Gogo”!
Great excitement late afternoon as we helped prepare for a
river side dinner and Ella spotted the first bull elephant to be seen close to
camp in many months. He was on the edge of the island, opposite Nculi camp,
leisurely feeding and we could hardly wait for the Americans to arrive back
from their afternoon outing to find a pachyderm on the doorstep. When I went to
collect a jacket from my tent, a shrill trumpet stopped my heartbeat. Just up
my side channel a nervous mother elephant with her calf chased off a warthog. A group of three which despite my inner fears
–were a delight to see around camp as POACHING has become a big problem in
Niassa resulting in fewer sighting in our immediate vicinity.
Eland Chilindu – taken
from the path that led round to Buffalo Chilindu, gives a view of the side
channel corner as it sweeps round towards the river – the end is the river side
dining area which follows.
George came over to meet
Peter and Sara and enjoy a special dinner down at the river to celebrate a full
moon rising simultaneously as the sun set
I slept like a log
that night with my husband there and of course Murphy decreed peace reign – no
noises bar the white headed plover pete-peting
persistently up and down the dry channel these past nights due to the
bright moonlight. Camp emptied early and
George left even earlier with his landy loaded with new equipment from Pemba
including the shadow boards. The satellite dish was finally up and running and
Nculi Camp had communication with the outside world. Amazing, my i-pod would
now play ‘Words with Friends’ although the battery was flat! Keith and Colleen
were out most of the day on lion work and after an early lunch I took Ella and
Finn to my tent for story time and Finn’s nap. In the midst of a story we heard
the unmistakeable sounds of elephants at the far end of the side channel and it
wasn’t long before we could see at least six. By the time a hot and restless
Finn was awake the elephants were too close for comfort and as we prepared for
a quick dash to camp Finn began vomiting. As I helped Finn, Ella kept watch on
the grey bods! As soon as he was able, we ran for the safer enclosure leaving
the ellies to feed around my tent-
definitely on a main thoroughfare between the flood plains and the river. Babu
assured me with actions they’d be long gone by nightfall. It soon became obvious a hot tent was not to
blame for Finn feeling poorly and Ella’s sore tummy was back so we spent the
afternoon on a shady mat and read stories galore, during which, we kept Finn
cool with cold flannels across his forehead. When his parents returned, concern
rose for Malaria. A dose of panado syrup brought down his temperature and for
another day all seemed well.
That night, Keith, Uzebio and Joachim did a leopard drive to
show Peter and Sara the spotted cats – [Google – Peter
Riger Niassa to read his blog and photos of Niassa] I went along although my knee didn’t take
kindly to the seat position and I stood for a while before bravely deciding to
sit on top of a spare wheel tied to the roof with some cord. Very exhilarating
for a granny to perch precariously
out in the open as the landy bumped its way in and out of dry river beds and
through the bush. The first night, NO leopards; plenty of impala and genets
until arriving back on the plain a sudden loud roar echoed across it. Lion? As I prepared to jump down from my vulnerable
position Uzebio pointed out a hippo alongside a clump of bushes. Keith manoeuvred the landy into a better
position and in the clearing behind the shrubs we were able to watch an
exciting and mighty “stand-off” between the bull and a female hippo with a calf
that maintained a rigid position at her flank. What unbelievable obedience in
the face of danger. During quiet moments the calf would glance towards the beam
of light coming from our vehicle. Otto’s book about a hippo in Zeekoevlei
flashed through my mind and I hoped we were not about to witness this hippo
bull kill or chase off the youngster. Thankfully this was one determined mama
judging by her stance and the male milled around, came in close and then passed
on as if he had no ill intentions whatsoever and with that, mother and calf
left in the opposite direction and we breathed more freely. We returned to camp at 8.30 and squaring my
shoulders followed by a deep breath – the lone ranger hit the path to her tent.
A shriek from an elephant in the gully behind my tent sent my heart on a route
march but other than cracking of sticks and quiet belly rumbles I covered my
head and slept in restless fashion. The
second night also passed without sight of a leopard yet by day the Riger’s were
enjoying wonderful viewings of lion. However, we did spot an old dagga boy
(buffalo) wandering along and as the landy turned in his direction we were
startled to see him sink to his knees as he backed into the thick jesse with
only one eye glinting in our headlights. Double checking through binoculars we
could see the other eye recently crusted over, as the old man watched us.
Nothing out of the ordinary was to occur that night other than coursers. These
long legged birds rather like plovers held up the night drive by stubbornly
monopolising the track!
I’d heard two vehicles departing, which was a bit odd and decided
I’d better go up to the children and was surprised to see everyone hanging about
until I entered the big chilindu and found Keith and Colleen anxiously sitting
beside a little body in foetal position on the toy bed without a stitch of
clothing. This pale and yellow looking little boy had woken at 4 a.m. with a
fever and 40⁰C temperature. The
apprehension in camp was palpable as we waited for anti-biotic and malaria
syrup to break the cycle while a plane, 45 minutes away, had been put on standby.
Four hours later the strain eased as Finn sat up for a piece of chocolate – All
was well for the time being and Finn managed a difficult day sleeping often and
rising for short periods, only to run another fever and high temperature in the
midnight hours before medication slowly took control. It certainly brought home
the uneasy helplessness of being way out here.
Meanwhile, I’d reached
the two week mark in camp without my body being the bubble wrap of insect bites
I’d suffered on my first visit- that was cause for celebration! Jomba made a double batch of vegan banana
bread using the squashed and blackened bananas that fared so badly on the road
trip in. It was delicious and somehow
the smell must have wafted Mariri way as George drove into camp desperate for a
slice or was he more desperate for a bath down in the river as he was embedded
with grime and sweat! His section of the river still too deep and unsafe for
bathing and the new shower was nearing completion. He stayed overnight and we all enjoyed the ‘talk’
that followed in the wake of the day’s visit to a guinea fowl breeding pen that
had been set up in the hopes of producing an alternative meat source. A problem
had arisen with the young and Peter’s expertise was required. So too, the plans to reclaim a dead lion’s
collar they had been prevented from retrieving the previous day because it
appeared to be on the opposite bank of a river too deep to cross; this, ended
up being nowhere in the bush after much searching – indeed it appeared to be in the river. Despite Peter not being
a water man, he’d tried to help track down the collar somewhere in the river
before issuing what he thought may be a speedy incentive to Uzebio and Joachim “his
shoes to the collar’s finder”. Eventually time overtook the divers with no
results and we laughed at the dinner table to hear that Babu and Francesco were
keen to return to the area next day with Uzebio along with goggles, in the
hopes of being able to claim Peter’s shoes. Uzebio became the proud winner, on Peter’s
departure of course. The lion must have been poached as the collar had virtually
been cut away in one section before cast into the deep.
The morning George left I began dozing off until a more
decent hour listening to the Southern
Ground Hornbills distinctive drumming
call when subconsciously I heard until it dawned on me this sound was different
and promptly sat up. It was a lion grunting its way towards camp – I didn’t
dilly dally and made my way to safety. The radio signal identified the collared
lioness as Flavia and in days to come I would also hear James and Jaibru
padding their way up the side channel, around the back of camp and across the
plains. I soon learnt that broadcasting their presence with grunts was a good
thing – it’s the sinister ‘silence’ to beware of! Over ‘elevenses brunch, a
couple of days later Keith mentioned going over to Mariri. By midday Ella,
Finn, Gogo and Babu were on board Keith’s landy to go and visit Bumpa and see
his camp. We’d no sooner arrived than
George was dashing off to sort out the afternoon activities while Keith took
off in another direction leaving us to look around Mariri Campo. Incredible to
see the tents, main chilindu and shower with a toilet set even further back
from this delightful view point that had
been so rough barely two weeks ago. In fact I found the cleared cliff edge too
hair-raising to be around, with Ella and Finn pretending to fish so we moved
down to Peninsula rock – much closer to the water to “fish’. That night Uzebio
was demonstrating the art of honey gathering learnt from his father Mzee (he
featured in Keith’s film ‘Badger Quest – Honey Hunters of Niassa”.
Keith took Peter and Sara to observe. I didn’t fancy being stung or holed up in
a vehicle for many hours. Down in my tent I finished reading “The lady and the
Peacock- Aung San Suu Kyi just as I heard the land rover return well after nine
so contentedly turned out my torch to sleep only to awaken an hour later on
hearing shaking... it was ‘Ottopot’ doing his ‘business’ in the characteristic
way of hippos, using a scattering ‘tail wagging’ distribution method. I lay listening to him cropping and chomping
... and as time wore on my heart skipped a beat as I heard the distinguishing
sound of a leopard which was soon followed by the agitated chatter of vervet
monkeys creating a night of menacing surrounds. Believe it or not a short time
after midnight my skin crawled and I flashed on a torch and peered around all
was clear – my imagination playing tricks? NO! A foraging ‘formiga’ party was
moving in formation along the floor of the tent and around the top of the
mattress... I ended up spending the rest of the night up and down like a
jack-in a –box squashing all the ants streaming along in a neat string before
double checking the surrounds outside were clear of ants. Once again, James and
his brother Jaibru came grunting along and I had to fight a sense of panic that
I may have to get to an emergency ant
tent that had been set up down on the river sand, on a night lurking with so
much danger. I fell into exhausted sleep
as soon as I the morning began dawning.
A cord of marching
ants! This is another view of my chilindu from the side channel with the sun
highlighting main camp further back. Ottopot’s regular crossing point follows
the ants to the growth next to my tent.
Quiet Peter and lively Sara’s ten day visit came to an end
with a morning out with the lions followed by an afternoon visit to Mariri seeing
the future layout of the environmental centre with all the family. After
‘school’ that morning I’d taken the children down to paddle the many braids of
shallow water when an hysterical bellow was emitted upstream. We spotted an
elephant cow dash across the river bed into the island bush. Moments later she
was followed by 19 elephants which included at least 5 babies. As time passed
the elephants kept crossing and we estimated at least forty in this huge
breeding herd. Highly excitable shrills and squeals, thanks to the many young
ones made for a wonderful sights and sounds show from our rock seat in the
middle of the river. With the family away all afternoon I entertained myself
with my i-pod and wondered about the fishermen as the elephants created
hullaballoo around their fishing camp. George found me down at the river on his
return for the Riger’s last riverside dinner and I was able to show him a more
suitable bath spot as the river levels had dropped so fast. The water buck came
down to drink, shortly followed by a small herd of kudu – with water no longer
close to the bush they were very tentative moving out across the stretch of
sand. We were filled with a deep pleasure enjoying this wilderness. All the
elephants had gone by then and dinner was devoid of their sounds and when Col
took the children to bed we continued to sit by the fire but George didn’t last
long – working so physically he liked going to bed as light fell. Sara remarked
on the changes George has wrought at Mariri and how this mammoth undertaking
alleviated an enormous burden from Keith’s shoulders. Over the weeks that followed I fully
understood this too and it helped me come to terms with being alone and rarely
seeing George. That’s what parents do for their children.
Nor did I ever realize what a sanity saver my i-pod would become out here? Audio books
were to come into their own once my books had been completed but even that
raised a problem as I hadn’t realised that generally three chapters are
downloaded at a time. So although I had many books – none of them were complete
and despite prioritising a download, a message would pop up saying the next
chapter was nearing completion. I waited in vain – it never happened, as the
system was just too slow. However, Words with Friends became a lifeline.
Scrabbling with Alison and Amanda, Di and Eggy, my sisters Shell and Leecy and
daughter Justine gave me something to occupy my mind during the day while the
children were playing with staff children or doing their own thing – as Col
didn’t want them to lose their wonderful ability of entertaining themselves.
Paul had given Saxon an i-pad for Mother’s Day and she too, was able to keep in
contact with her mother through the Apple devices i-cloud messaging system.
Aside from scrabble we could all message each other and this certainly helped
keep me ‘grounded and strong’ in an unexpectedly strange way! It began with a
therapeutic need to get the fears of the night off my chest and resulted in
everyone wanting to know more and more. Sharing seemed to halve the terrors and
often just having their ear and a word of support back was sufficient to steady
me while other times their sheer horror and helpful instructions would raise
enormous mirth and assuage the stress layering within me! Even as I write almost
a month after, I laugh recalling how they thought situations could be resolved.
“My Godfathers! You are a
brave woman” often
rang in my ears and gave me courage. “Move”
my sister Leecy would implore; in my mind that was impossible without
infringing on others - One visitor barely withstood one night, with his fears.
Next day he had to move to ‘safety’ in order to cope with the next three nights
of his stay.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted the tent, squeezed in between two storage sheds lurching downwards... Fantastic for my morale though! Ella and Finn’s swing is just behind the open air kitchen and at evening time this area is the car park.
With Keith away in Pemba delivering the Americans to the
airport, buying the provisions and hunting down tools and materials for the
building site I helped the children make their card and gifts for Father’s Day
coming up and well before dark we’d all be in bed and the hours would stretch
inexorably and yet a relatively peaceful night had eventuated and as I watched
the breaking dawn Hortensio came down with the bowl of water – then I was surprised
to see Jomba walk past my tent obviously looking for something before returning
to camp. I was freed of curiosity over breakfast
when an animated Jomba acted out his
usual nightly activity beside the kitchen fire, braiding metres and metres of corda (from palm leaves) looked up to
see a lioness and youngster had padded through the camp without giving a
sidelong glance at him. Only after he’d leapt back to his tent a metre or three
from the fireside, did the lioness give pause on the pathway stare back at Jomba
before continuing down to the river then depart up my side channel. Lots of paw prints verified the visit!
Caught up with the children I wasn’t aware of gunshot heard
at 9 a.m. and again at midday. I’d overheard Colleen talking to Jomba and trying
to raise Kambaku (some twelve miles downstream, on the other side of the river)
and Niassa Park Headquarters over the radio – all in Portuguese, on a number of
occasions. It was only when no one could be raised through any form of
communication that I learnt of the gunshots and a fear of poachers. Keith was due home that afternoon and had
given an estimated time of arrival but this was upset by numerous punctures
leaving him with no spare. He requested
help from Kambaku and while waiting, Col told him about the ‘shots’ and being
unable to raise help. Thereupon,
Keith managed to use better
location and vehicle radio to get through to Headquarters and have Game Scouts sent through
immediately (reaching Nculi next
day!) So much was going on – Col had organised
George to send through his landy with six men to help unload the incoming
vehicle and by nightfall she had retired with the children, exhausted. I sat at the fire with Jomba listening out
for the Toyota arriving at the river crossing but mosquitoes got the better of
me and I braced myself for the lone ranger walk. Closer to my tent I could hear
the distant chatter of voices – the men waiting down at the river and, as I
cleaned my teeth I thought I heard
something but decided I was being too twitchy. Certainly scuttled into the tent
at the rate of knots and a mouthful of toothpaste at the second sound! It was
hippo. He’d obviously been displaced by the activity down on the river and come
very early to his favourite feeding ground. Once the transporting and flashing
lights began, Ottopotamus became very disturbed, rushing back and forth, across
the bend in the side channel with such loud oomphing and huffing, it quite unsettled
me. I peered out through a crack in the zip with my torch to see him but just
the gleam of his eye stared back and not wishing to panic him further I lay in
the darkness and listened and hoped he wouldn’t stampede through the shade
cloth door in fright. Sometime after 9.30, peace reigned and I heard the Mariri
land rover depart leave and peace reigned enabling me to fall asleep. NOT FOR LONG as the silent assassins woke me
and rapidly routed me from the tent by their sheer numbers. Just opening the
zip rained a hailstorm upon my head and shoulders and I ran through the night, unable
to slap fast enough at the stinging bites. Hortensio, the new Nculi man from
Mariri had just arrived for training and he fortunately heard movement and came
to my aid. Col spotted the flashing light and came down. She was upset and
anxious as despite Keith’s exhaustion after days away and a long day on the
road with no food, he’d gone off to find poachers and check on fishermen’s
whereabouts at ten o’clock at night??? Once again a new mattress brought in
earlier saved the night and we both continued to worry about Keith until his
return after midnight. It seemed we had barely settled for what was left of the
night than Keith was up again – 4 a.m, closely followed by all in camp. Col
went to shower in the dark and the water set my bladder off. I shot to the
thunder-box and returned to the ‘peace’ of my tent but the ants were still
heaving so I had no alternative but to return to the new mattress in the
dressing room tent. The kids promptly arrived to change out of pyjamas and I
realised it was a waste of time trying to sleep as there was much tension in
the air. Colleen had been scheduled to fly a lion patrol and now as the
micro-light circled, Keith left for their little air-strip, to search the area
for signs of poaching. An hour later Oscar was back in camp to collect Colleen
and her camera... So much coming and going, as next all returned and I was
introduced to Wim, the pilot who used to work for Park HQ, now worked on the neighbouring
concession to Keith and Colleen, two hours away. Poaching was of joint concern.
They’d returned for their first meal of the day, close on midday and as Jomba
fed them I learned that 3 dead elephants had been located, ivory cut away and a
fire left burning behind the one, indicating the poachers had stopped for a
meal there. Before tearing off again Jomba
was instructed to prepare a meal for the eight Game Scouts walking to Nculi –
Keith had brought in their backpacks when he’d met up with them on the road.
Lack of finances at Headquarters has resulted in unpaid men having been given
notice at the end of August so they lack the heart to speed and catch poachers-
they wanted a good meal first!
I had a shower and washed my hair before writing of the
latest drama on my i-pod and back came a
priceless response from my sister Leecy and Chris horrified at my life and wanting me out
alive! With camp very tense and concerned I spent the afternoon down at the
river with the children and they did a final rehearsal of their Father’s Day
Concert on a rock stage. What a lovely setting with Finn blending so sweetly to
Ella’s natural ability to improvise they could easily have come from the
Musical era I’d so enjoyed as a child. That night, Keith brought George home
which was a nice surprise and ensured a most restful night’s sleep although I
heard a new sound during the night. In the morning George told me two Pels
fishing owls had been answering each other in unison- just beautiful. George is fast losing weight but I certainly
don’t appear to! George was gone before the sun rose and I lay watching the
dawn, listening to the emerald spotted doves the monkeys began chattering
nervously and continually. Although I could see them scampering across the dry
side channel up from me there was nothing to indicate the reason for their
anxiety but seconds later a shrill unusual sound like whimpering was briefly
heard then silence from all. One’s heart pace quickens in these untoward
moments, when you know not what, happens. You are just aware the monkeys are
very upset and afraid. After the silence, spasms of monkey chatter follow and
thirty minutes later they still haven’t fully recovered from whatever trauma
occurred. During the morning Ella made a
special invitation for the Father’s Day concert to be held at 4 p.m. that
afternoon when the large breeding herd passed closely behind the camp giving us
wonderful visuals of the elephant parade. I thought I would try an i-pod photo
from the clearing next to the satellite dish only to retreat at speed when a
mama came into the gap with a malevolent look in her eye and lifted her trunk
in my direction. We may have the steep sided back channel between us but I am
not wired to play ‘chicken’. At the
scheduled hour we gathered on the sand for the Rock Concert only to have Finn
incapacitated by ‘cold feet’. Once Keith brought chocolate into the equation he
slowly gathered impetus while Ella managed to keep going with a more self
conscious show, especially for her parents. A later dinner than usual as Jomba
made delicious but time consuming chips and I certainly didn’t dally cleaning
my teeth outside my tent as something was moving in the bush behind me. It was
only the smell of hot air and cracking branches that eventually had me decided
a bull elephant was feeding – a quite different pattern to hippo. So much for my usual amount of reading my
ears were pinned back listening and as he moved down to the river a hooted
shriek convinced me. Thank goodness I have never had to have an ear splintering
trumpet when elephant are in my immediate vicinity- my thunderous heart would
surely stop for ever, at that!
Ella and Finn’s plans for Father’s Day went awry – before
we’d even settled for breakfast Whisky Delta
flew over and we certainly didn’t hear it circle and land. It was Wim’s voice
that alerted us we had guests in camp as he and his wife Shilene walked in. Despite
no vehicles in camp - they had taken a chance and walked in to see if anyone
was home. We all were! It was another of those days when vehicle problems were
escalating yet again... A sociable couple of hours followed until the breeze
got up and Wim knew he must get his plane in the air. No, sooner were they on
their way than a double cab Toyota drew in with seven officials on board from Luchinga
Fisheries. They appeared to have simply arrived within Niassa National Park
without anybody knowing and a local villager had guided them here. As is the
custom in these remote spots tea and coffee was served before Keith took them
down to the river to show them where the fishing camps were but they seemed
reluctant to get their feet wet crossing onto the mid island, thus Keith and
Hortensio had to fetch the canoe and ferry them over one by one! As the clock ticked by lunch was prepared for
them and sure enough on cue they happily partook of a leisurely lunch and one
lady even had Hortensio get some laundry done for down at the river. Eventually
the children decorated their father’s work space with their gifts as the day
had gone in a flurry of unexpected visitors.
Uzebio’s number 1 wife, Fatima and three of her six children
arrived in camp and the dynamics rapidly changed as Anna and Viki were similar
ages to Ella and Finn. Lessons were easily disrupted or Ella distracted by the
comings and goings and I learnt to fit in the three R’s whenever there were
periods of quiet. Art and cooking more
often than not went by the board as toddler Luigi (the dearest little creature
with all the confidence in the world) unwittingly messed up everything especially
during the daily games of Hide and Seek, that it was easier to spend time down
at the river. I taught all the children to do the Hokey Pokey, and over the
weeks that followed I had to laugh at the ‘English’ these children
inadvertently learnt using my intonations, especially ‘comm-on’!
Col calls this my Niassa Pre-school!
Hortensio took an interest in what
Ella was doing and quietly came to observe. With Ella interpreting, we asked if
he’d been to school. ‘Poko’- a little! (1
year). I wrote his name and adapting
Australian Barbara Brann’s delightful writing scheme, I pulled two straws out
of the boundary fence and taught Hortensio with a tall straw and a short straw.
Ella told him to go and practise until it was in his head! His enthusiasm was
infectious as he wrote in the sand and in the dust and in no time he was ready
to learn his surname. Col had mentioned she liked the men to sign for their
salaries rather than a thumb print Jomba
soon joined the adult education scheme as he only signed with an A.N. so I
wrote Alberto for him and the ‘old dog’ may give it a go. As school for that
particular morning was ending, an unexpected wave of nausea and dizziness swept
over me with anxious
minutes following. When the hot clamminess persisted, I asked for an early
shower to be set up for me and I somehow managed that, feeling awful. Feeling
very faint headed, I struggled back to my tent and slept fitfully, first hot
then cold before I felt better and got up to go and check the children. They
were happily playing with Anna and Viki and to my surprise, two hours had slipped
by. A very weird fever that came and went quite out of the blue thankfully as being
unwell out here is no fun. Col is on antibiotics after battling with her foot
after a stick pierced her instep two or more weeks ago. It refuses to heal in
fact, when we left Niassa, she was again limping badly. While Keith too, Like
George, has septic sores around his ankles that constantly flare up and spike
temperatures. With no vehicle in camp,
George was called back so that vehicle could transport Keith and Colleen to a
teachers meeting in Mbamba village the next day dropping George off en route.
Peter Riger wrote about Nculi’s ongoing vehicle problems with such old and
battered Landy’s in his blog and he had a response from the Arab Emirates offering
a new land rover. Wonderful if it came to pass but these offers tend to fall
into the too hard basket once the logistics are taken into account. Our Nculi two get stretched thinly - Keith
and Colleen have held an annual ‘Fun Day’ at the Mbamba School for the last
three years so successfully and with an incredible turn out of children. They introduce
through art, crafts and sporting activities the conservation ethos and safety
issues of living in close proximity to wild animals. Word has spread and teachers request to be
posted to this remote village. Unfortunately teaching methods are antiquated
and many schools are hamstrung by finance and distance which results in very
few of Mbamba’s 500 children interested in attending school. Keith and Colleen,
through their Nculi Trust are trying to remedy this.
