Mozambique - Part 1

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.  

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.