Mozambique - Part 2

I have reached the one month mark and with it came visa headaches for Keith and he had to drive to Pemba to renew my visa and have Colleen and kids passport restamped. If he’d been able to walk in and have it done immediately it wouldn’t have been quite such a bother. It took a week.  This time round he was able to collect George’s passport and leave mine. The differing dates of arriving in the country further add to the number of times Keith has to drive to Pemba.  When he leaves, another rhythm enters camp. My rubber slop was sucked off my foot in an unexpected quicksand kind of spot in the river shallows much to the mirth of the children; especially when we were unable locate it despite knowing exactly where it came off. Col came to help then she ‘bush called’ Jomba. Eventually the Wise One pulled it out from a good depth down in the soggy sand.

We all returned to camp looking up at the ominous black clouds building up in the east with a rainbow arc growing steadily across the blackened sky.

A very unseasonal storm looked to be brewing and worse, as we crossed the last stretch of water we found the bad ANTS swarming across the sand as they joined the dozens of formations that rose up out of tunnels and continued along narrow open canals that led through wet sand, to who knows where. Scary stuff and I knew I’d have a night leaping up and down to check whether an invasion was coming my way. ‘Formigas’ do not like weather changes and they march great distances by night and disappear completely as soon as the sun is high enough to be hot. Jomba said it wouldn’t rain and he was right - only the lions passed back and forth that night and we discovered they were feeding on elephant carcass – thanks to poachers. 
 

While Keith was away, a Fire Project from the University of Maputo turned up in a Toyota truck and a car. Although the lecturer had been in communications with Col months before and promised to advise on the final date- Nine people turned up unexpectedly with plans to stay in Nculi. No idea of  logistics and worse, as is the Mozambican way, they bring two drivers, collect a local to direct them and then think they can all stay and head out into the bush with unsuitable vehicles and little regard to their safety. Colleen ended up sending Carlos a fine tracker to guide them through the bush.  Jomba led them to the Hippo Pools that first evening, to set up camp for the duration of their stay of around ten days! When Jomba didn’t get back Batista cooked us some rice for our sardines and in the middle of supper a wind came out of nowhere followed by rain.  We dashed about covering office computers and putting away books before making a run for our beds. I had to put my east flap down as enough rain was falling to have created a puddle in the tent. The strange little storm was all over by seven that night and another night followed of hippos and lions around me. Something jolted Ottopotamus’ nerve as he gave a strange snort and rushed off. A leopard ‘sawed’ close by and my heart beat thunderously... I can’t help but wonder if these nightly heart exercises are good for me?!  Ian Player, the South African who began the first Wilderness Trails encouraged fireside solitude to overcome fear and learn to enjoy the sounds of the night; the Girl Guides followed his example and I begin to wonder if something of this isn’t rubbing off on me, If I recognize what it is – I cope better.
 

Another ‘Festa’ was coming up – Mozambique Independence Day. All camps would be emptied of staff by late afternoon Sunday to enjoy the festivities on the Monday. George would keep an eye on Mariri Construction site and it was suggested I go over to Mariri and enjoy a change of scenery and spend the public holiday with George. Not only was Mariri a new environment with new noises to cope with it was a rough-tough one that made me feel incredibly anxious. Not only that, I sensed it wasn’t just an overnight stay but something longer and I felt very emotionally unsettled. How would I cope with long days and long nights – my last book was almost done. I-pod audio book wouldn’t last long without a charge. All I had were two dated Fairlady magazines with mega crossword puzzles within and they became a godsend out there! Keith needed to get over to Mariri to fix the radio on George’s landy. As soon as the children and I had breakfast we went across to Mariri with him and having them around helped my first day to pass. I enjoy the exhilaration of the bush but I do not like feeling at all vulnerable thus I am out in this wilderness, in the main for Ella and Finn. Keith was scheduled to leave for Pemba at first light next day to sort out George’s third visa and collect the Mariri architect and as soon as the radio was up and working he headed back to Nculi with the children just after 11. I felt quite teary and forced myself to settle on the bench George had made, overlooking the Lugenda and worked on the first crossword until George arrived home and hour later for the lunch break. Lunch was a slice of bread made a couple of days ago with a spread of jam – NO butter. My appalled “this is prison rations” caused an outbreak of giggles as we swigged water to get it down. George eats to live while I live to eat ... I was rocking the boat!

George sits on his ‘Fish bench’ overlooking the Lugenda, taking a look at the crossword puzzle 

Francisco set up a shower for me and it took effort scrubbing my feet clean before the quota of water ran out. I was soon to realize it was an utter waste of time and for the rest of the week my feet became deeply ingrained with the black dust that covered the Mariri site. The afternoon ended earlier than usual and all the labourers arrived home in festive mood – their voices wafting up towards camp as they bathed down at the river.  The Nculi team rolled in – Jomba looking the coolest with his dark glasses and black outfit while the others had on colourful party clothes – even I felt the party mood and fancied going along just for the ride. Joachim paid the labourers as they arrived and as soon as the first ten were done, Uzebio set off for the village and as they turned onto the Mbamba road a loud cheer went up. When Oscar and paymaster Joachim left with their eleven men in the second landy, an almighty cheer followed at the turn-off. George and I were alone with a supper of pasta and a tomato and onion sauce on the table, getting cold.

 We laughed at this meagre meal served up on worn plates that barely looked clean and took to the ‘fish bench’ giving us this long view of the Lugenda as the last light cast its pink and purple shades across the still water, which helped digest the meal.

We heard a side striped Jackal yipping for a long time and wondered what disturbed him while the realisation I’d left my malaria pills disturbed me – as malaria was rife amongst the villagers. Oscar was scheduled to return to Nculi as soon as he’d delivered the partygoers as he was going to Pemba with Keith in the morning. He’d be dropping off the old landy as he passed by enabling him to deliver a note to Col re my pills but when I’d get them was hard to know. George leapt up when the land rover drove in heavily laden with thatching. (For once, women in the village earn money collecting and combing straw bundles for Mariri, leaving it piled high at the entrance to the village for collection and payment). Despite his load Oscar came straight to our tent as Keith needed to speak to George over the radio.  Turned out an elephant had been gunned down at last light close to Nculi Camp. A Game scout on the other side of the river, a fisherman closer to site and the two wives left in the Nculi campo with children had all heard five rounds blasting off and come running to report the shots. So Keith was onto it quickly calling back as many Nculi men as possible just after they’d dispersed around the village. Although George was on standby with instructions to leave the vehicle radio on, an incredibly quiet night passed. George rose early and went to stack the combed grass returning for an early breakfast with me as he’d planned to take me out to see the ‘painted dogs’ that he’d seen a number of times. I blanched at breakfast – the inevitable bread and jam with water to wash its dryness down. Water not too bad until I realised it hadn’t been boiled and then my stomach skipped and jumped nervously! Barely had we set off down the road than we came across Jomba on his bike – hot footing it back to Nculi after a ‘char’ (tea) in Mariri. We left him to it indicating we’d be back shortly.  Further down the road, we overheard Keith calling Col on her radio to bring food and camera to the Marshall Eagle nest close to the Mbamba road. With no one in camp we detected her concern at leaving the children, unless Batista’s wife (Jomba’s daughter) would come into main camp, to be with them. George promptly told Col we had Jomba with us and we’d all come through to be with the children. Lickity-spit everything changed and we drove into camp and found Finn still in pyjamas and even later that they hadn’t had breakfast. Ella, keen to show me her maths work that she’d done on her own the previous day drew Mama Maria’s interest and I wrote down her name along with her husband’s and little son. She began copying- obviously a clever woman and I showed her how to teach Benny to write his name in the sand. Meanwhile, George was sitting in the land rover listening to the unfolding poaching story over the radio as communications darted between Wim and David in the air and Keith on the ground with two teams – the LU.WI.RE Game Scouts and his own men led by Uzebio, an excellent tracker who found where the tusks were cleaned and where the poachers had stopped to eat – a likely eight in the group and a tomato paste packet implied Tanzanians. I took the children down to the river as they were keen to resume ‘Scavenger hunting’ – a game I’d played with them a few days previously. A marvellous place to play and this time they had to find - hippo dung, a shell and a feather so all heads went down looking... Before we knew, Colleen had returned and George needed to return to Mariri to be on standby with a supply of water, as the poachers’ tracks were heading towards the new road, George was cutting!
 

En route back to Mariri we saw three vultures circling and we stopped and went into the bush on foot. Yes, even ME in my rubber slips slops, keeping close to George as he grimly strode in.  The incredible noise of wings and the variety of vultures that arose from their waiting positions in the high boughs of trees or upon the ground, as they flapped around us was phenomenally awesome and contrasted violently with the mighty pachyderm lying skewed with his spine gashed open. A shocking waste of life lying in riverine growth amongst dry, rustling leaves and branches – all for two ivory tusks - Worse was on the other side; the trunk had been slashed off from the top leaving a faceless gap.  

A ghastly portrait, left by poachers!

Back on the road we came across another elephant, not far from the death site and as we bumped and rattled along, this fine specimen turned to sniff us before veering away and I was filled with sorrow for he carried tags of death. We continued on our way feeling very subdued by the enormity of safe guarding elephants, no matter the size tusk. The radio broke into our quiet thoughts – First, Dave requesting food and water for the trackers; then Keith saying the supplies should be taken along George’s new road. We made for home and found Francisco and Hortensio, both having run to catch up with Jomba and missed him by minutes. They filled the water tins down at the river while we looked through the paltry food trunk containing very little to appeal to men on the march. A tin of sardine and one of pilchards would go nowhere amongst all those men so we hefted the food trunk aboard the landy and hoped they’d make do with the bits and bobs within. Off dashed George, pleased as punch to be helping. Hours later, George and Keith returned thirsty and hungry and Francisco came up trumps with bread, hot out of the coals and a tasty vegetable soup full of fresh pumpkin. As soon as we’d eaten we took Keith and Hortensio back to Nculi. Keith resupplied us with tinned food and jam before we drove back to Mbamba to collect the labourers and Nculi men (redeployed to check out the village after the poaching incident) to give Keith a break, as he’d been out all night.
 

 As the landy drew into the village centre the vehicle was surrounded by high spirited people wanting to greet and shake our hands – so much so it was quite overwhelming and George drove away from the mobbing crowds wondering how we’d locate anybody amongst the merry throng. Oscar and Joachim obviously knew the sound of an Nculi vehicle as they found us along with Mariri labourers preferring a ‘lift’ than a walk. All piled aboard. Oscar indicated that Batista was under the weather and seemed anxious about what to do. “Fetch him” we responded, and MY! He was out of it, having missed the call to return last night. The journey back was full of bonhomie; body language cuing me into the humour since I didn’t understand the spoken language.  We dropped the Mariri men at the turn off and made for Nculi only to meet Keith on his way to resupply the tracking party. However, over the radio we hear the poachers had changed direction – no longer heading to the Tanzaniam border; they were following the Lugenda making it impossible for Keith to locate his men. As for me- I’d certainly had changes of scenery and a different kind of day!
 

I awoke with water splashing loudly in my dreams – poachers escaping down river? Once I had my senses back I realised it may well be hippo wading below in the river. Water triggered my bladder and I got up and peered over the cliff but could see or hear nothing. A secure feeling up here! We heard the swishy swashy return of hippo before first light and the morning call of a lion,  George said was over in LU.WI.RE  on the opposite bank; while my ears told me along the Mbamba road. In the dull and cloudy dawn Francisco and Castigo could be heard raking the camp (somewhat   reminiscent of my father-in- law sweeping at Deeseven at unearthly hours, disturbing my sleep!) Francisco confirmed lion presence at the back of camp as George began sharpening the road gang tools creating a dreadful din. Keith arrived with – eureka! Oros cordial and some onions! He was en route to collect his tracking men as the head game scout had called a halt for some unknown reason.  Keith had also sent Oscar and Joachim off to Pemba to collect my passport and submit George’s before bringing back the architect, Romina. George’s morning was disrupted by the discovery of a broken shock absorber. With no replacement, it was simply removed. The team were off to continue cutting the new road and, it was too far to return for lunch. Castigo sat on the front of the landy like a sphinx; he was the lunch cook of beans and nshima while George took a chunk of bread with a smear of jam and his water. It was a particularly long hot lonely day in camp and I divided it up into little activities to help speed up my hours alone. The day began well with a surprise tin of Milo awaiting me. Jomba had given it to George the previous day.  I asked Francisco for a mug of hot water – in the best communications possible and had Milo for breakfast – it sure tasted odd here but it was better than nothing; Lunch was bread going stale fast, impregnated with ants and pushed down with Oros. Who’d complain at that? As George drove in at 5 the pasta and tin of sardines was on the table and the water about to be hauled up for his shower before he was even out of the landy. It was gobble and go – if he wanted a hot shower! 
 

Faint grunts and trumpets sometimes wafted across to add to the picturesque scene of Africa; nights were surprising peaceful and safe. George decided the men needed a break from road making particularly as it was too far to return for lunch. The gang was split into work parties and I was invited to join – I quickly swallowed more strange Milo (perhaps the battered old mug taints it!) before I jumped aboard the land rover to collect stock piled rocks and bamboo, out in the bush. Trundling back and forth we ferried in the building materials. Meanwhile, Keith too was ferrying in the last batches of thatching he was prepared to buy for the season and he joined us for lunch – bread and juice.

Father and son went to turn on the new water pump for the first time so they could clean out and ‘time’ the filling of two water tanks. The Chinese pipe threw up two leaks and the strong water pressure had the hose leaping around like a python creating hilarity and muddy mayhem.

Having understood Francisco to be making ‘curry’ I’d suggested the additions of tinned peas and beans. Instead, pasta was served up with a frying pan mixture of peas, beans and onions. It was, however, surprisingly tasty. Or was I desperately hungry. I tried the combination again, back in Nculi when Jomba was at a loss for dinner with Col away all day. It was OK for camp food!
 

Another day passed all alone as George returned to cutting the road. I was delighted to briefly meet Hiposiku, who’d just received permission from the Chiefs to work at Mariri. Being a local “poacher”, the Begg’s had employed him during the wet season to look after Nculi Camp simply to keep him busy and protect the Game.  On arrival back, Col had been a little dismayed to find the surrounds of camp transformed into a mighty veggie patch of pumpkins and tomatoes. Fortunately we reaped the benefits of his effort, as Houston Zoo Sara was a serious vegan. Although Hiposiku was a fine worker, Keith and Col had been unable to employ him at Mariri as the Chiefs nominated the workers. Hiposiku was not from the village, although he’d been around for a good few years, fishing. The story goes that one night; fellow fishermen heard desperate yelling as a hippopotamus tipped from him from his dugout followed by an ominous silence. In the darkness no one could see anything and they all thought the worst. A day or so later, Hiposiku came back from “the dead”. He’d ended up on an island. Not sure if that’s how he came about his name!
 

Thursday passed well as the family brought petite and charming Romina, the architect, over to the site and while they were busy I took Ella and Finn off see the new places I’d discovered on my rambles. Keith and Colleen were both down with malaria and it appeared that Jomba was also going down but all kept going regardless. On the departure I only had to manage the afternoon alone with my crosswords. The next morning George was up before sparrows with something on his mind! He radioed Keith about a satellite photo of the new road region and in turn, George heard that his third visa extension had been refused. He’d have to go with Keith to the Kenyan border, leaving first light the following morning. George was quite delighted at the prospect of travelling across Tanzania and hopefully seeing Mount Kilimanjaro when he came to tell me about the change. He suggested I come out and see the new wet weather access ‘estrada’ (road) as he wanted to find an easier route across the Mpopo River, much further inland. As they would not be out all day now that he was heading out of the country! I jumped up and Francisco presented me with my mug of hot water. Too full to add the Milo, I tipped some out and a very dark fluid emerged out the black mug.  No wonder! He had been giving me ‘cha’ and this day was particularly strong... that solved the peculiar Mariri Milo problem and I sank a decent one down my throat made with hot water!
 

Everyone piled aboard the landy and we set off through the bush on the new road – think cleared track! The main party were dropped off at the head of the road to continue clearing a width wide enough for a second hand Bedford truck, awaiting delivery in Africa time... I came to learn that Castigo, Luigi and Mechanico are George’s men of choice where ever he goes. Nakati had mechanical experience hence the name Mechanico and with a decrepit land-rover out in the bush he was useful to have around. All three were very pleasant, competent and enthusiastic guys to have at his side. George, his three musketeers and me, set off to find an elephant crossing along the Mpopo River. Blithely I leapt out with the men to trek through the bush looking for signs of elephant paths – doves were cooing and all seemed so calm and comfortable as I cut through long grass and brush with new ‘aplomb’ – WELL, that was until I heard what sounded like a lion. The men heard it loud and clear too but it was hard to make out their language other than it sounded ‘hippo-ish’ to which George retorted “no way”!  Thereafter, I stayed in the safety of an open land rover with Castigo the sphinx, sitting on the bonnet (Before George knew his name he referred to him as ‘Hopalong’ for fairly obvious reason) and enjoyed the scenery and the search from afar!   At day’s end, as we drove back to Nculi Camp I was honestly able to say my week in Mariri penitentiary had turned out a lot better than expected; I’d survived the rations positive in the knowledge that I must have lost weight.

It was good to be back amongst the warm characters of Nculi and supper was on the table soon after we drew in. Tasty bush fare indeed and I took a good helping. Four hours later I awoke to a grumbling – not outside... inside my belly; instinctively I knew the long drop was a required destination- George offered to come with me but there wasn’t time to hang around and I made that journey three more times that night despite a hyena whoop down at the river and a nervy elephant on the plains.  Hortensio brought the wash water at 4.45- still dark and we decided Keith was ready to leave... George’s compassion was obvious as he said goodbye, but surprisingly I felt fine and wasn’t bothered again by the ‘runs’.  The men didn’t get away until close on 6 and by then I was up and we all walked down to the river to see them off before Colleen dashed back to head off to Mariri with  Joachim, Pedro and Batista who would oversee in George’s absence.

A rock concert in action...

A round of scavenger hunting down on the river, a concert on their new ‘mound house’ and scrabble had the day speed by and in the early evening I once again took the ‘lone ranger’ walk with a new composure of sorts and returned to the routine of attempting to ‘shorten’ my long nights. That particular night was possibly the quietest night we ever had just to demonstrate an Nculi night could match the much quieter Mariri nights – even the watery white noise of rapids seemed to have disappeared. The even lower river level may have accounted for that. Ridiculously, I found myself straining to hear anything but my seemingly noisy and steady heartbeat interfered and in time I fell asleep. Itchy bites around my ankle disturbed my sleep and I rubbed them with Anthrisan and a bit later my hand involuntarily went for something crawling on my leg but felt nothing. The second crawling across my cheek had me wonder if I was going back to paranoia ways... Moments later I knew I had to check what was between my finger tips – Tukue were here (The architect had told me, this was the Pemba name for these nasty ants) and it was 3a.m.  I began flattening the blighters with my facial cleansing wipe or fingers and thumbs as I swivelled to all edges of the double mattress. Naturally a few intrepid ants reached the top without interception but their nips alerted me and their demise followed swiftly until everything was good enough to lie back with glasses firmly on my nose, warily awaiting further activity. Sure enough  a sporadic ant cross my arm and I fell asleep at dawn  and awoke in the same position of readiness at daybreak with a measure of delight I’d  stayed home a second time. On rising at 7, I realized what a narrow escape I’d had as massive battalions of ants were marching around outside and through the bush. Whew!
 

Jomba and Joachim returned to their homes for their overdue 4 days leave. Hortensio, much to his disappointment, returned to Mariri to hold the fort while Francisco returned here for intensive food training – Without schooling and languages Col feels she has to ensure he has the skills to provide Onesmus, the Builder/Trainer Keith had gone to collect from Kenya, with the three meals a day expected in his contract.

According to Ella, Little Luigi has adopted me as he determinedly and insistently wanted to go everywhere and do everything they did with their Gogo. It was hard ’rock hopping’ with him on my hip though.

        In Cape Town a memory game of “In my bowl of cereal is...” began and persisted breakfast after breakfast even out here and new games triggered from my past easily became habitual with the children. Once, I’d just accompany them to the toilet (outside the camp boundary it required an adult presence) now, a singing game based on the traditional South African tune “We are Marching to Pretoria“ became a march around the toilet periphery singing of towns up and down Southern African (good for geography!) or we’d tap the bamboo cross beams to the thatched enclosure and an intently listening throne sitter named the direction (good for compass bearings). At night, a pattern to the bath routine was added; once Ella or Finn had their tub bath, they’d call out “a hug a bug is ready” and I’d transport a damp little body to the dressing tent for pyjamas. While the afternoon walk along the river became a nature ramble of the best kind. As Ella rightly said in the words of Jane Goodall’s book... we became “WATCHERS “. So many little gems were added to my memory box and in turn, I hope these little grandchildren of mine recall them over the fullness of time.

 Meanwhile, Colleen was beset with problems that arose each and every day in numbers. With Keith often away she had to shoulder them while her own research went by the by. A staff of eight had swollen to 42 and commensurate came many headaches. The vehicles brought their daily problems and Keith and Colleen flew by the seat of their pants more often than not. Plans changed according to the circumstances and if it wasn’t the poaching – 12 elephants taken out during the nine weeks I was there; it was scheduling ‘village meetings’ to ensure the Chiefs were kept very involved in the Concession partnership, seeing different aspects of village life were running smoothly and the inevitable unexpected meeting that arose when folk walked to the camp to appeal for help or solve problems.  It never stopped ... Keith’s pressured trip to Tanzania – a non-stop three day journey there and another three days back was no picnic. Hold ups over the visa threatened to throw out days and in turn disrupt the collection of the next set of visitors. Not only were we short staffed - they were thinly spread between Nculi and Mariri in an effort to keep everything rolling smoothly.  Three visitors were flying in on the Friday and had to be collected at a runway two hours away and returned on the Sunday. That same day, in the opposite direction and over an hour away, a suitable vehicle was required to get over the river sands to meet the Lugenda Lodge canoe with two American Donor guests. Hot beds required changes of linen in a bush camp that visitors more often than not, expected to run like a tourist lodge. We were all kept on our toes, cleaning and making up beds as one lot left and the next came in. My nights continued to be totally disrupted by animals particularly a party of elephants.  One expects to hear the arrival of these huge creatures but they literally sneak up on tip toe and before you know, the tell tale sounds of undergrowth being broken, tells you they are right here. One of these nights I awoke an hour into sleep feeling a gust of air across my face as I heard cracking branches and heavy breathing reverberating through my pillow. Heart pumping wildly, I groggily tried to ascertain whether imagination or reality was playing a part until molars were definitely heard gnashing as they chewed leaves and grass a metre away. Warm earthy smells erupted and permeated the tent so strongly that I lay rigidly at attention, until an itch drew my hand involuntarily to my groin and I am horrified to feel an attachment! There again, I need to be sure this is not part of a bad dream... Shock horror! It was a bulbous tick. In the torchlight, I ripped it off and smothered the spot with Zambuk. I can only think it got onto me during the concert on mound hill as I sat on the ground there, some days ago. Tick fever thoughts hurtled round, my emotions ran riot and it was hard to keep ‘myself’ together.

 Against the odds, a call from Keith announced the men were close to reaching the Tanzanian border with Mozambique and although they still had over eight hours to go, they planned to make it in around midnight. Their day had begun at 4a.m and Keith requested Jomba have some hot food waiting as they hadn’t eaten properly let alone had anything that day!  Without enough transport around camp, our night owl Jomba hadn’t been collected from his village two hours the other side of Mbamba. Nculi’s first intake of prospective Anti Poaching Game Scouts arrived late afternoon, in readiness for a stiff, 28 day course, beginning over in Wim’s Concession area, Monday 9 July.  Pedro (Babu) was very excited as he had been included in the intake of 12. Keith and Colleen planned to take the six top men.  They went off to clear a camp site on the far west side and their animated chatter as they made their fiscale camp was voluble. 

  Moonlight strangely set the emerald spotted doves into an unexpected wailing... their sad cries sent melancholic thoughts through my head that I turned up the sound of my audio book to cancel them out – despite that, I heard a lion out and about around seven. At nine I was determined to get some sleep only to wake more or less an hour later with bats and perhaps birds, ducking and diving under the thatched roof of my chilindu after insects and for another hour I tossed restlessly until I decided I’d probably go back to sleep if I emptied my bladder. Rolled onto my knees and used the mattress to get to the door. No sooner had I stepped onto the tent floor, opened the zip than I heard the clear sound of a vehicle grinding its way, on the other side of the river, while consecutively my neck and feet felt... OH YES! Familiar stinging bites. I leapt back onto the mattress grabbed torch and shone, with sinking feeling, upon the swarms. Too many by far and I had to flee. My emergency bag with tracksuit was ready, waiting near the door as I grabbed pillows and got out fast and dashed through the moonlit night to the storage tent and rapidly dropped my load so that I could begin protecting my body, squashing ants nipping me left, right and centre.  No one stirred in camp and I put on my tracksuit and took the pillows to the kid’s platform. Recalling the green snake that had been slithering and winding around there over past days didn’t help my peace of mind and, I knew a blanket was necessary cover to get me to lie there.  I dashed back down the path with the ants so thick on the ground I had to reach for my huge towel and toss it over the ants, in Sir Walter Raleigh style, to enable me to reach through the flapping doorway and pull off the blankets.

  Once back in main camp I draped the blankets over the kitchen table full of crockery, cutlery and wash bowls to inspect the dark colours for crawling critters- suddenly and horrifically the night was broken by an anguished voice calling KEITH. Not just once, several times... I froze and listened – only a father would call his son by his name – Oh NO! It sounded like George calling for Keith in that desperate tone as if he was in terrible trouble. That galvanized me and I ran down the path towards the river shouting NO! NO! Or something... until Col’s voice halted me in my tracks “LEA – it’s an animal”.  No way, could I believe that! I was wide awake and my ears told me it came from the river where the men were... Col had scrambled down and was with me swiftly, as I stood uncertain and traumatised. Once I had told her the men were back and, down there... she said she would go and I must stay with the children.  What agonising slow minutes of waiting in the dark and quiet – I wept...

The voices of Keith, Col and Onesmus wafted across the sand and my heart lurched violently not to see George, yet they walked very calmly and I just shook. As Keith engulfed me in a bear hug, he assured me all was well, I’d just heard an animal kill and before he rowed away, ‘Dad’ and Oscar were already in sleeping bags alongside the Toyota, too tired think of crossing the river. While Col heated up food for the starving builder, Keith bundled me into Buffalo tent – ready for the incoming guests next day. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he offered to go and fetch George and I could only shake my head. No torch, I lay on top of the bed with my pillow and blanket tossing and turning, haunted by the ‘KEITH’ voice; disturbed by five Egyptian geese honking continually; the rapids sounded particularly loud; lions grunted in different directions and my shock was awful long in draining out of me.  By four my mind took me in ridiculous places as I sat watching for anyone to come up the beach and by dawn I could stay there no longer.  Keith and Col called to me from the kitchen fire. My blurry eyes and wobbly voice could hardly get out “Where’s Dad?” to which Keith replied he was helping Oscar unload the truck and get everything across the river.

Although the ants still accommodated my tent I managed to pick up my glasses and head down to the river as I needed to see for myself, all was well – such was my emotional state. Ella and Finn spotted me disappearing down to the river and followed in their pyjamas with Finn, somewhat ludicrously, wearing a bright yellow crown on his head.   I could barely speak but in a child’s way, they were most interested to know “Why I shouted in the night for a suitcase?” and “What animal had scared me out of the tent?” I had no answer as tears flowed ... Fortunately Uzebio and Babu caught up with us and distracted them while I managed to regain a measure of control. The relief of seeing George waving to us from the island as he waited for Oscar to get the last canoe load over the shallows was enormous. He had no idea of my vulnerable state as they rowed the last section onto our shore and greetings took place with Finn’s crown the centre of attention. We each gathered up a load and as we began walking back, George told us how soon after they’d got into their sleeping bags, last night they’d heard running and an impala had fled past their beds and over an incline with wild dogs in hot pursuit. They’d splayed out and gone over the edge, killing the impala. ‘Did it make a noise’ says I. “Oh yes! TERRIFIC and virtually at our feet that when I shone my torch down I counted six wild dogs and by then they had ripped the impala apart and in the glare of the light, rushed off – only one remained that I thought he’d been injured but he was cleaning up the scraps” George’s excitement had been my most harrowing night and led to a total unravelling... I could only say quietly- “l heard that impala only, I thought it was your desperate calls for ‘KEITH’ after wading through the river to be cornered by hippo or a lion and you needed his help”. 

     

Within a couple of hours George was on his way to Mariri and that added to my fragility, as I could have done with his presence for a day or two especially as I knew all his men had been given days off from Thursday lunch time until Saturday 2p.m and it was only just into Friday, but transport problems and being able to help settle in Onesmus decreed. No matter the night, everyone had things to do.  Keith went off to welcome and sort out equipment with the new Scouts. He then rushed off with Oscar, each of them ‘limping’ land rovers with serious problems requiring welding, through to Matamilla. Keith arrived late afternoon to begin the welds and as soon as one vehicle was safely up and running he headed straight for home, four hours back, getting in after midnight – the pressure placed upon himself is beyond comprehension especially after a week of non-stop driving, little sleep and little food. Meanwhile, that early Friday morning Col shot off on her journey to collect the  first lot of guests, leaving the children and ‘Gogs’ in camp and Uzebio’s wife Fatima and three children over in the Campo.  With the distraction of caring for the children I got through the day and over the lunch hour sent a birthday message to Leecy and an outpouring of my ‘night’! She received the texted saga over a celebratory dinner and a proposal of marriage from Chris.  That wonderful news brightened my frame of mind and I ended up pasting the saga to my ‘Apple’ family via i-pod. ALL but daughter Justy, responded with compassion! She chuckled ‘at the text’!  
 

The weekend passed in a blur of hectic Nculi activity. Only Emma from Maputo turned up on the flight Colleen had to meet that Friday and they arrived home in time for sundowners down at the river. Next day, Col raced Emma over to the see the Environmental Centre site before delivering her back to the airstrip in the opposite direction – another very long day for Col.  At the earnest persuasion of Ella and Finn I took five little children out walking on the back plains - something I never believed I’d be able to do but I did it!  Francisco returned to Mariri and Hortensio came back to Nculi and between us we prepared Buffalo tent for the American guests arriving next day. Our river region had rung with the merriment of the Game Scouts proudly wearing their new uniforms and on the Sunday they set off in such jubilant spirits for the neighbouring concession to begin their course. Then it was time for Keith and Colleen to go and collect the American guests Peewee and Stuff Marshall in the Toyota, which had been driven round to our side of the river over the past 48 hours. Understandably, Keith was like a bull with sore head never-the-less, as he drove off a measure of relief descended upon camp!
 

Visitors in camp and a ‘relaxed air’ descended upon Nculi camp- everything took on a leisurely calm.  During lunch, Uzebio and Joachim arrived home with reports of two un-collared lions in the vicinity and all was well with Flavia and her cub. Stuff and Peewee were taken out for the afternoon to find the lions, as Col was concerned that the two brothers James and Jaibru had been ejected from their home territory. I played scrabble until the children awoke and as Ella was reading to me, an almighty crack resounded around us and looking towards the side channel we saw a massive branch falling in slow motion to a thunderous crash. No elephants but like an Australian widow-maker, a huge spreading Acacia albida had simply dropped a limb.  The kids were keen to go and see but I was edgy about the island, my chilindu overlooked, as many animals disappear into its thickets from the side channel or the main channel. They sweetly promised to guard me. I spoke to Joachim working on the computer. He enjoyed practising ‘English’ with me and once he understood our intentions he instructed Hortensio to go check out the island and once he was sure it was safe, to escort us in. Like a tangled maze it was interesting to scramble along the many Game paths within. On form, the hippo and elephants arrived during the night to greet the American guests with lots of noise coming from the island and I wondered if they listened agog.
 

The following day- 9^th, Keith and Colleen were able to dart a lion they thought had died which thrilled Stuff and Peewee and they all arrived back late for lunch.  A visit to Mariri followed by sundowners at the Hippo pools was on the agenda and we were included in the afternoon outing.  Fortunately I wrote a note to George and took the book “Killing Keeble” along with a portion of banana bread Jomba had put aside for him: Just as well as we spotted him going off to collect his men looking for suitable panga-panga logs and he never came back. We left his ‘goody bag’ on his bed. On our return to the Hippo Pools, we met him on the road and as Ella said “very dirty”- especially his hat! From our vehicles our eyes said hello! The week passed by with us doing all our usual favourite things. Although one morning after school we saw Anna, Viki and Luigi down at the river and went to join them. Just as we’d crossed the first shallow channel we realised Anna and Viki were trying to show us something in their hands – my heart reeled when I realised they had tiny dead birds clutched by their bodies... A desperate flutter alerted me otherwise and instantly put out my hands to be given three very small sparrows. Ella laid into Anna verbally in a mixture of Portuguese and Swahili before we could find out where they’d found the babies.  As we walked towards one of the long rocks I spotted a pile of droppings on the sand and in the slightly concave side of the rock barely 20 cms off the sand was the little mud nest. Now that the river level had dropped away from here access was easy and shrieks of NADAR! NARDAR! NO, NO as Viki touched the delicate mud nest. Carefully I held my hands over the top dropping the three fledgling back in only for two to fly out right and the third tumbled out left.  “Comm-on”, I urged the kids to get away and leave the birds to recover. A while later we peeped to see if they had returned- nothing in the nest and the bird that went left was huddled on the ground, virtually in a small remaining puddle of water. I reached for the damp feathered birdie and placed it back in the nest and it hunkered down.  Later we’d see activity around the nest and over the next couple of days we realised this was the runt and it hadn’t the strength to fly like its siblings but we hoped the parents were feeding it.
 

The Marshall’s short stay was over and Keith and Colleen took them up river to meet the canoe back to Lugenda Lodge. Hortensio went with them as far as Mbamba to check his 4 month old daughter who was seriously ill. As they were returned, Keith and Col received a radio message from George reporting a dead elephant his men had come across in the bush near Mariri. Action stations ... the trainee Scouts were mobilised and Nculi men redeployed in the village and in a short time three dead elephants had been accounted for -  too late for tracking the perpetrators but good for honing anti poaching skills.
 

Seven weeks turned over and as I washed my face I was aware of a very tender spot above my eye and scary noises from the path heralded in Ella and Finn – they’d heard my tent zip! I asked Ella to see why my eyelid was sore and as she tenderly checked – she informed “you have a tick under your wrinkle “!  We scurried up to find Colleen and have her verify this. A male tick this time was carefully concealed under an eyelid fold and Col had a tricky time getting a good hold of it before it was removed. The spot remained sensitive for weeks and I pondered how a tick had reached there without me seeing or feeling it. Argh!
 

The next visitor arrived to spend the weekend as did Jomba’s youngest wife and three year old son, who fails to thrive and appears as a baby just able to sit. Keith went through to Pemba early Friday with the plan to collect my passport (which had been left with Immigration all month, much to my concern) on the Friday afternoon before meeting an exchange Scientist from Argentina late Saturday. So much for well laid plans Keith was delayed helping two vehicles stuck in dry river beds and arrived at Pemba Immigration, ten minutes after the doors closed for the weekend. Ants swarmed around the shower and no one could use the enclosure by night for many days as they appeared to have made a home down in the damp sand around the shower sump.  That Saturday morning we heard four “Game Scouts” had failed the course and had to be collected – three of them from the Nculi intake of 12. The disappointment and bewilderment on their faces was emotionally draining on both Colleen and me.    
 

Sunday morning I was about to teach Jomba how to make a toasted sandwich for Colleen when George rolled into camp. He’d decided to come home as Sundays had been requested as a rest day by Onesmus and Mariri was virtually empty as all the labourers had headed home to the village at the end of Saturday.  We were delighted to have him and while he chattered to Col about the week’s events at Mariri we made toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches a la open fire. When I next looked he’d disappeared.  I found him sound asleep in the tent.  Two hours later he was still dead to the world. Lunch passed without him stirring - he was utterly exhausted. When he awoke he came up to find us but everyone was having a siesta – he wanted nothing to eat but craved a coke. We were virtually out of everything – we hadn’t even had Oros cordial in many days  George had been suffering an upset stomach for five days and the more he tried to force himself to eat the watery slosh provided at meal times, the worse he seemed to get and he wanted Imodium. Then he mentioned a large lump in his groin that made his life very uncomfortable and painful particularly bumping around in an empty landy which had me feeling very disquieted. Over the afternoon I questioned him about life at Mariri now that Onesmus was there and whether meals had improved, only to grow more disturbed and anxious about George. Supplies would be coming in with Keith and the Argentinean that evening. Mauro Lucherini, the Andean Cat man and Keith arrived on schedule; George rowed the canoe over to await their arrival but when we came to have supper- George was lying down with a painful groin, now diagnosed as an inguinal hernia, setting off immense anxiety that wasn’t to leave me. He insisted on coming up to dinner and he ate well with no ill effects during the night and departed at dawn for another working week. Discussing his problem with Colleen the following afternoon further upset me and after a sleepless night I decided needed to go to Mariri for my own peace of mind when it came to George’s health and at least, I could supervise and help Francisco as George certainly didn’t have the time or ability to help Francisco and Onesmus obviously expected nothing less than a good cook. The stress and strain of all the weeks was very obvious on Keith and Colleen. When I arose that Tuesday, they were long gone with Mauro and when the opportunity arose to tell Col of my need to go over to be with George – she had already organised for Jomba to go and discover why so many problems were arising in Mariri. Francisco would come back and cook for Nculi. It all seemed a nightmare – however she reassured me that Keith had spoken to his father that day – not only was he feeling better but Keith had persuaded him to come back to Nculi and have a few days off later in the week.  Meantime, Keith had to return to Pemba to collect my passport before the third visa was due... AND, as all ATM’s had been down on his most recent visit he had been unable to collect salaries or replenish much needed groceries.  PROBLEMS – never ending problems, requiring energy and effort at every turn.   
             

It appeared Australian passports could not have more than 60 days in the country and I suggested I go with Keith so that if the visa was refused I would simply fly out of the country but Keith and apparently George, did not want to subject me to unnecessary road journeys. Meetings in the village were scheduled that Wednesday morning and it was late before Keith could set off on his journey necessitating sleeping on the road to Pemba. Col was kept busy sharing her lion work with Mauro most of the day and George arrived back Thursday morning for his R&R. 

George relaxed down at the river with his grandchildren keenly sanding the table he was anxious to complete before leaving, wood chipped pattern, baboon and all.

Visa’s can only be collected after 2 p.m. and as we waited for the verdict... I told George that if I had to leave I’d insist he left too... as under the present circumstances we were simply another burden for Keith and Colleen to worry unnecessarily about and he surprising acquiesced.  Keith called Colleen mid afternoon and my negative visa set the ball rolling for an early departure – virtually one month early! Getting out of Niassa and flights out of Pemba were more problems for our children to solve while flashing through my head was the enormity of where to go.  Apple messages to Saxon requesting her to make urgent contact with my friend Scottie and Alan Boland. They were expecting us for a couple of nights stay around the 21^st August and had our luggage and computer in safekeeping. Scottie was not a well women and I felt anxious. No response from Scottie and I mentioned our predicament over i-pod and back came an instant message from my cousin Alison in Tasmania- she would sort something out with her eldest sister, in Johannesburg. In those remaining days Cousin Pene communicated with Scottie and discovered she was about to go into hospital and from afar Pene solved all our concerns and Alison kept us informed. Very slowly travel arrangements began to form. We were wait-listed for two flights out of Pemba on either the 25^th or 27^th and Colleen found flights out of Lugenda Lodge on Tuesday 24^th.  Daily fines for overstaying my visa as from the 20^th would need to be cleared before I went to the airport. Keith had to take Mauro back to Pemba on the Tuesday for his flight out on the 25^th and collect Augustino, flying in that afternoon. Nothing certain – but hopefully all would fall into place.  All that remained was to make the most of our few remaining days.   
 

George went over to Mariri for one last night to say goodbye, he was so loath to let it all end like this. He felt distressed at having been rendered “useless” by a silly hernia; had so many places he had hoped to explore before leaving; hadn’t even set up the workshop or installed the shadow boards he intended building but no doubt those containers will still be coming in months to come... such is life out here.  The animals continued to scare and enthral – a tribe of mongooses stopped Ella and I in our tracks one morning, momentarily frightening us out of our wits with the noise until we saw them dash helter skelter through the undergrowth and across the path to Eland tent. Then we were filled with joy.

 

The stage at which one of the buildings at Campo Mariri had reached by the time George had to leave. 

The teacher giving a lesson on the making of breakfast hot cakes! As each cook tried his hand, the children gobbled up the flops. Left to right- Francisco, Finn, Oscar, Ella, Viki, Anna, Jomba and Hortensio

As Mauro hadn’t seen the Hippo Pools, we went over to this special place for sundowners on our last evening.

As luck would have it a- a six seater was bringing in clients to Lugenda Lodge and it would be able to take all of us back to Pemba saving Keith the journey. The flight scheduled for 9.30 required an early departure from Nculi.

We join the Nculi team for a final goodbye photo.    

Keith tows his parents across a shallow channel before we row the deepest section on the southern side of Lugenda River for the last time...

We waved to little voices unclear in the vast expanse of the Lugenda River – our visit was over for an unknown length of time, a bond forged and the memories will forever linger. The two hour journey passed easily with Mauro standing in the back of the Toyota with Baptista. Tsetse fly bit me on my neck and arm leaving hard swellings and the heat exacerbated the bites on my ankles – sandflies probably breeding in the little stagnant pools dotting the river bed. We had time to visit Lugenda Lodge as the plane hadn’t come in and we found Derek, Paula and Nick in this beautiful touristy location and joined them for a quick cuppa until the drone of the plane overhead had us hurry away – Nick joining us for the flight to Pemba. 

The plane waiting to carry us away from Niassa
 

Mozambique wasn’t quite over as we flew into Pemba for the coming days. Keith had told us to catch a taxi to Kauri Hotel where Mauro was booked in and hopefully they would have a room for us. We waited an hour at the airport without sighting a taxi. Fortunately, Nic had gone off to the Lugenda office within the airport grounds and he returned to meet a Pemba Beach Driver and seeing us still waiting – he offered to drop us off. Just as well, as there was no vacancy at Kauri Hotel, even Mauro’s booking appeared to be in jeopardy until they found it booked under his first name. Thankfully Jose the driver, was prepared to drive us around until we found a place as George was in no state to walk. Luck was with us at Peter’s Place, we could have 3 nights there.

Pieter’s Place, built around an extraordinary baobab with the buildings roughly plastered to match the texture of the tree.   

As it was Mauro’s last night in Africa we arranged to meet up for supper. Fortunately Kauri Hotel was well within easy walking distance for healthy beings and we set off early in order that George could take it slowly. Going was fine as the road was busy, plenty of police on the beat were evident too; coming back was a bit nerve racking in the gloom and I began to feel we were being extremely foolhardy as George was not in a comfortable place, limping badly after sitting for so long and I certainly didn’t want to dally out on such a dark lonely road with an ailing husband!

Oscar, Joachim, Batista and Maura turned up the next morning to collect my visa fine money and we joined them for an hour at the market as Maura had to be back for his airport shuttle. The afternoon passed sitting under the baobab awaiting the return of the Nculi men with my passport. Eventually late afternoon Augustino and Joachim to say the fee had been paid but the passport with its new documentation would only be ready the following afternoon.  Thank goodness we had Mozambicans to sort out the bureaucracy as they persuaded the officials to have it ready in the morning as they needed to depart for Niassa. Next day I finally had my passport safely back in my hands with everything in order. Just as well we’d ended up with the Friday flight to Johannesburg as we didn’t need panicky departures! We saw those good, kind men off on their homeward journey to Nculi camp in a Toyota needing urgent welding now, simply to keep it together.     
 

As for Pieter’s Place we kept our humour despite the hourly howling of neighbourhood dogs for the first part of every night; a toilet that wouldn’t flush for the most part and a shower that gave George a shock when he tried to adjust the temperature! We ended up having to make do with cold showers if the pressure was there. Pieter’s voice badgered his staff, as he swigged another whisky and we had a long wait for dinner despite having ordered it for six. Never mind, this was Africa and we watched the world come and go, we were rewarded with a shot of Amarula Cream for our patience! 
 

The two crocks (I had somehow hurt my back walking the rough uneven road) never-the-less walked up to Kauri Hotel for a very early last dinner in Mozambique, so we could be back before tokoloshes jumped out at us. The next day Elizabeth in the kitchen summoned a taxi for us and as the wings of our plane lifted us out of Mozambique I was ready to shout to the four winds that - I DID IT! I had spent almost 9 weeks in Nculi, sharing life as Keith and Colleen live it, and more particularly Ella and Finn. I had faced my fears and discovered a ‘force’ within me that will remain part of my life.