Bert's Travels: Down the Zambezi: Part -2-

Let's paddle down the river.

Chapter 2

“Everybody is out for breakfast or a morning stroll.” John summed up this glorious picture of nature in the raw.

Like the good companion he was and always had been, John paddled a bit harder and tried to maintain direction, which normally would have been Bert's job, sitting in the back of the canoe.

John compensated for Bert's spending his time and effort on his photography.

The two boats had come close together and Mike held on to the gunwale of John and Bert's canoe.

For a little while they floated.

Even Kel and Mike, the two Zimbabweans, to whom such sightings should have been “old hat” were silent and contemplative.

Such was the Beauty of the moment.

*+*+*+*+*+

They all were awakened from their reverie, when a huge Hippo suddenly rose, snorting, bellowing and sprouting a water fountain not two meters from the canoes.

They quickly back paddled and gave this angry hippo a wide berth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let's dig in a little and get to Chirundu before late afternoon” Mike suggested.

“I'm all for it” Kel added.

All four now paddled almost in unison, and the pick-up in speed was considerable.

In early afternoon, the Chirundu bridge came into view and soon they arrived at the landing ramp, leading at a steep incline to Kel's friend's Rondavo.

While John and Mike unloaded the Canoes, carrying all that would be needed up the steep incline to the Rondavo, Kel and Bert went “shopping.”

They soon reached the settlement, too small to call it a town, to small even, to call it a Village.

“There used to be a lady who sold Mealie Meal and spices”

“What's Mealie Meal” Bert asked.

“It's kind of a corn flower”

“How do you prepare it?”

“Let Mike tell us. He's the cook.”

Although the woman, who Kel remembered, was not there, what must have been her daughter or maybe grand daughter gladly sold them enough Mealie Meal, and spices for a tasty sauce for the next number of meals.

A side of meat, loin from a young goat, large enough to feed four hungry travelers.

“The goat. Very young?” Kel asked the young woman.

“Oh yes! Very very young! She smiled.

“Maybe you also want Mashuku? And some Nhengenii?”

With considerable enthusiasm she praised those native fruits.

“Mashuku very good this year. Plenty. Plenty”

Her Perl-white teeth glistened out of her smiling mouth. Together with some “Nyii” for desert, bought as an afterthought, Kel and Bert left this friendly house.

“Ndinotenda” Ken said, and “Makanaka

Just before they left, the young woman called out:

“you be careful! Big Elephant in Village. This morning killed a man. Man very drunk. Made trouble for Elephant. Elephant push man over .. kneel on him, till man dead. You be careful” she repeated.

The Villagers were still excited. Although Elephants often came into town to forage for discarded food, a death was very unusual and caused a great deal of excitement.

The Elephant had lifted the roofs of two houses in search of Mealie Meal, or anything eatable.

So the Natives said.

The man, already very drunk in the early morning, tried to push the Elephant away from his shack.

This huge old tusker did not like to be pushed, certainly not by an old drunkard, and so it came to this calamity.

Bert and Kel made their way back to the Rondavo.

They told this sad story to Mike and John.

Mike said: “ 'tis a sorry tale, but did you bring something we can eat?”

Proudly Kel unpacked all their harvest.

“How do you make Mealie Meal? Bert asked

“That's the simple part. It's the gravy, makes the meal.”

“Let's start with the Mealie” Bert persisted.

“Okay: take four cups water,

put in one tablespoon salt

make boil in covered pot,

put in 3 cups Mealie Meal

stir plenty with wooden spoon.

Let stay plenty hot for 10 minutes

Cover pot again, take off heat, let sit half an hour.

When cool, serve, when serve, eat!

Take amount between thumb and two fingers.

Squeeze to make more solid.

Dunk in gravy, very tasty, spicy,

Pop in mouth

chew slowly, let taste go through whole mouth,

swallow.

Take second ball of Mealie, Squeeze, dunk, pop in mouth.

Chew, swallow.”

Mike said all of it in the manner and English intonation of a native cook.

Bert and John wiped tears of laughter off their cheeks.

Kel grinned broadly. He knew Mike's routine.

“What about the gravy? The Sauce?” Bert wanted to know.

“Big secret” Mike said. “If I would tell you, I'd have to kill you.”

During all this banter, Mike prepared the goat's loin strip.

And what a meal was had:

Mealie Meal, wonderfully spiced sauce, goat's loin, local vegetables and sweet fruit.

“two bottles of South African wines” to wash it all down.

“It don't go no better 'n that” said Bert.

“I'll do the dishes,” John volunteered and, turning to Bert, he added:“you play the mouth organ.”

“Does he have to?” Mike asked.

“Yes he has to and you will surely like it.”

The evening was warm, the smoke of an open fire just outside the Rondavo kept the bugs away.

From far off, the chatter, almost laughter, of some hyenas could be heard.

A Ring-Neck Dove never stopped its calling. ..gurruuu-guruuu

Bert very quietly improvised a Blues-like melody on his mouth organ.

Soon he stopped playing and, along with his friends, he just listened to the sounds of the Night closing in on them.

“Last time we were up here, with our friends” Kel reminisced, “ their little Poodle was taken right out of the compound of the Rondavo by a Leopard. We tracked the animal but lost the track when in some 200 meters, sand gave way to hard rock and scrub. There were some blood marks on one of the thorny bushes, but that was all.”

“Do we need to stand watch again?” John asked.

“We'd have to if we were a small poodle” Mike joked.

“Let's just have a good night's sleep. There are still about 60 kilometers to Mana Pools. So far we've done about twenty to thirty per day” Kel suggested.

They grabbed their sleeping rolls and each found a place in one of the two large rooms of the Rondavo.

Bert finally decided to bed down on one of the stone benches on the roofed over patio, circling the small building. He was glad not to have to put up his tripod contraption tonight.

Day broke early.

Actually it broke at the exact time determined by the Sun and the stars.

It just seemed early.

Bert had been up for while, meticulously cleaning his cameras and lenses.

Breakfast consisted of some left over Mealie Meal balls, dipped into yesterday's sauce, and a cup of good strong coffee.
Everybody agreed that they've had better breakfasts than this one.

*************************

The canoes were loaded.

The Safari continued.

There were some clouds early in the morning. They soon dissipated, however, and gave way to an other day of blue sky and Sunshine.

“It'll be a scorcher again” Kel said.

“It would be a great idea to make the halfway mark of about 30 kilometers by early afternoon.

We could set up camp in a stand of Maponi trees I know there and stay in the shade for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds good to me” Bert said.

“There are almost unlimited opportunities for your photography” Mike added.

Quietly and full of early energy the four men used their paddles and the forward speed increased considerably.

“Shows you what's in those babies” John said, as he, with over exuberance, splashed Mike, who sat in the stern of the canoe called “Puppy Power.”

Ken had named the other Canoe “Algonquin” in honor of his and his family's visit to Algonquin Park in Canada, the year before. On that wonderful occasion, Ken, his wife Tina and sons Grant and Christopher were the pupils and John and Bert the teachers.

As if by thought transfer, Kel said to Mike:
“The hardest thing to learn in Algonquin was surely the fact that you could go swimming in the lakes and the rivers, any time. Whenever you felt like it, day or night, you'd just jump in.

No Crocs, no Hippos. Just jump in.”

He smiled in his reverie.

So, for a while “Algonquin” and “Puppy Power” veritably sliced through the light waves produced by the gentle breeze.

“The river here”, so Kel informed, “is about half a kilometer wide”

“Small reed islands float down-river. They are just roots of papyrus and other water plants, loosely hanging together and would give no firm ground to step on.”

Lilac Breasted Rollers, various kinds of Bee Eaters flitted from one reed to the next.

A Grey Headed King Fisher followed the Canoes for a while, flying from reed to reed.

A little closer to shore, a Cormorant, or was it a Darter, sat on a tree branch, wings spread wide to dry them after a successful dive.

For Bert, the taking of those wonderful images was almost as necessary as taking a breath now and then.

Lilac Breasted Roller

After each fish hunting dive this Cormorant

must dry his wings in Sun and Wind.

Why?

Because he has no oil/fat glands.

Evolution goofed up on this one.

The gray-headed Kingfisher is better equipped.

She's got fat glands,so her feathers repel water. .

The "Crimson Breasted Shrike" doesn't need any oil glands.

She hates the water and stays well out of it.

"Who wants to catch fish,

when there are so many mosquitoes flying around?"

The Yellow Billed Hornbill, does not understand
what this controversy is all about.

************************

Sitting in the bow of 'Algonquin', he had the cameras, safely covered by a plastic sheet inside a roomy canvas bag, close at hand in front of him.

His frequent use made it necessary for John to work a little harder on the paddles, and Bert had to put up with some good natured razzing of being on a “free ride down the Zambezi.”

With only few interruptions the voyage continued, when Mike lifted his right hand in the agreed upon “stop” motion. Everybody stopped paddling and looked in the direction of Mike's outstretched hand.

Three binoculars and Burt's 800 mm lens scanned the shore line.

“Over there,” Kel whispered, although they were still at a respectable distance from the shore.

“I see them now” Kel said.

“So do I” added Bert and took some long distance shots through his Telephoto lens.

“What a lovely trio”

“I hope they'll stay put”

“I'd love to get closer”

“Use the paddle only for direction”

“We'll float closer and closer.”

“First sighting of Lions” Bert said with a deep sigh.

“Won't be our last one” Kel was still whispering.

Closer and closer they drifted, Bert's Camera clicking in rapid fire.

“Stop paddling”

“We'll get too close”

“They won't stick around”

Bert changed from his fix focus 800 mm to the zoom with 300 mm being the top range then, quickly, to the 45 to 135 mm zoom lens.,

Slowly the two canoes drifted past the three Lions, still at a respectful distance.

“I hope you got some good shots” said Mike.

“I'm sure I did” said Burt.

“Now I understand why you carry three camera bodies” said John.

“this way there is no time lost in changing lenses.”

“Brilliant” said John, “but heavy.”

At that moment the Lions, a young male and two sleek females nonchalantly rose and disappeared in the dense brush behind them.

The male Lion glared at us

“So beautiful” Bert said.

“Okay, let's hit it” Mike said.

“If we want to reach our next camp site in early afternoon we had best speed up a trifle”

With accelerated paddle strokes the canoes neared the desired goal.

“Next to the Rondavo in Chirundu, this is the perfect camp site”

John surveyed the area with a critical eye.

“Perfect” he said again and smiled.

“couldn't have hit it any better” Bert agreed.

A very small bay of the River, into which, despite this being the dry season, a lively brook emptied, cascading down over rocks and boulders, sounding like small waterfalls sound everywhere: Soothing, comforting, inviting.

Six Impalas, two Rams and four Ewes had just finished drinking. They watched the goings-on as four men unloaded two canoes.

Impala and Man, curiously looking at each other, the men aware that they are the intruder.

Two Waterbuck, male and female came down the soft decline.

“Could it be any more beautiful?” Bert asked.

“If you were to paint this, people would call it 'kitsch'” John said.

Kel and Mike grinned. They were mighty proud of this beautiful land they call 'Home.'

The Waterbuck, having seen the men, did not approach the brook, but turned and strolled away, showing the white target like circle which nature had painted on his rump.

“Must have been sitting on a freshly painted toilet seat” Mike punned.

“A joke, much older than the Zambezi.” Kel added.

The four men finished unloading from the canoes what would be needed for their one overnight stay. Each found a convenient level spot for his sleeping roll and Burt erected his tripod contraption once more.

John called it: “ Bert's Castle”

After a short discussion it was decided that tonight's evening meal should be the left-over goat's sirloin and Sauce, some Matunduru and one Nyii per person as desert. Clear water from the sparkling brook would top it all off.

The day was still hot.

“I'd love to go for a swim now!” said Bert, rhetorically.

John agreed by nodding his head.

Mike rolled his eyes.

Kel just pulled on the last dregs of his strong coffee.

“Would be nice, having a little fire” said Bert.

“We will have one when it gets a little darker” Kel said

“Then,” he continued “if you would like, I'll tell you the story of Nyami-Nyami, the Zambezi River God”.

“You told it once before, but I fell asleep at the beginning” Bert smiled.

“was it boring?”

“ No, since I never heard it, I can't say! I was just dead tired, and fell asleep. That's all!

I'd love to hear the whole tale.”

Mike had done his best to make left-over goat's sirloin palatable, by adding more spices to the left over sauce.

Bert photographed a family of Mongoose, who climbed around the base of a fig tree, chasing each other, disappearing, only to look out of any nook or cranny they could find in this tree.

The quick Mangoos, known as the consummate Snake fighter.

John studied a pamphlet offering the services of a Safari Organizer.

“If this isn't carrying Coals to Newcastle” he mumbled to no-one in particular, closed the pamphlet and tossed it over with the fire starters, to be used later.

“Well”, Kel started, it seems that there was this River God, up near Kariba.

Some called him a “Snake God,”

His admirers called him “Nyjami-Nyjami”.

“Yeah,” said John, “I've been there. Played some Golf with business friends.”

At this point, according to tradition, Burt fell sound asleep and began to snore gently.

“Is he pretending?” asked Kel.

“ No, I think he truly fell asleep” Mike laughed out loud.

“I suppose, he'll never hear the end of the Nyjami-Nyjami tale.” Kel joined in Mike's laughter.

John, infected by the mirth of the other two, joined in too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, there you have the picture:

The Zambezi, silently flowing past.

A family of Mongoose still playing catch at the foot of a fig tree, a small brook stumbling over some rocks, three grown men laughing, till tears ran down their cheeks, and one man sleeping and gently snoring.

*********************************

Bert woke and found Mike and John asleep under their protecting covers.

Kel was still stoking the fire, and clearly also on his way to his “mosy net”-covered sleeping bag.

“Goonight Kel, how's Miami-Miami.

“Yeah” said Kel. “We've all been there. "played some Golf."

The Canoes touched land at “Mana Pools.”

“We made it!” said Kel.

“Yeah, and in one piece” John added

“That's the best place for a 'Hiking Safari'”

“More Wildlife than you can shake a stick at.”

“And so many varieties. You name it and it'll likely be here,” Mike said.

“In numbers” he added.

“I've hired a guide for tomorrow. For a walking Safari.” Kel said.

“I can hardly wait!” Bert handled his cameras lovingly.

“What's Mana Pools” mean? John asked.

“Mana” in the language of the Shona means “Four” Mike explained.

“So, Mana Pools, Four Pools.”

“What are their names?” Bert asked.

“Only 'Long Pool' carries water all year long. even through the Dry Season.” Kel said.

“Then there is “Green Pool” “I don't remember the others.”

“Doesn't 'Chitaki' also belong to the four? Mike asked.

“The guide I hired is stationed at Nianepi Lodge” Kel became his efficient self.

“I'll go and get him. He will also tell us where we may camp.”

Mike, John and Bert sat at the gunwales of their boats waiting for Kel to return with the guide.

Mana Pools is one of the most remarkably beautiful river landscapes.

There the Zambezi is wide and runs smoothly. Many islands dot the riverbed.

Of differing sizes, they offer homes for hundreds of Crocodiles, several hundreds of Hippopotamus,

On the shore Zebras, Wildebeest, Eland, Waterbuck, Giraffes, Impala, Lions, Leopards, Cervil Cats. Bird-life, too numerous to count. From the Griffon Vulture to the Batelleur Eagle.

From the Lilac Breasted Roller, to the Crimson breasted Shrike, and many varieties of Bee Eaters,

There is just too much wildlife to count, too many varieties to photograph.

***

Kel appeared out of seemingly nowhere, with a large native Shona in tow.

“This” he announced, “is George. He will be our guide during a 6 hour walking Safari tomorrow.”

“George knows this Park like no other. He knows it like the proverbial back of his hand and he promised me that he will leave no question unanswered.”

“It's a good thing you haven't unpacked anything, since we have to go about one hundred meters down river for our camp site.”

In a deep Baritone voice George announced:

“I will be here at about six in the morning and if you are ready, we shall start on a wonderful day.”

He said it with a gentility in his voice which, however, left no doubt that he actually said: … ...”and you had better be ready”.

“Don't worry, George. We'll be ready!” Kel said, as they shoved off the Canoes on the way to their assigned camping place.”

And there it was. The shore line, curtained off with a growth of papyrus and, on land, set well enough back of the water line, two tents, each large enough for four, but meant for two occupants only. They 'tossed for it' and Kel and Bert chose one of the tents, Mike and John the other.

Since the tents were identical it really made no difference.

Inside each tent, two cot beds, with a mattress, a tripod with a bowl for morning ablution and, believe it or not, a clean white towel.

“Now this is unadulterated luxury” Bert said. “how do we rate this?”

Kel spoke up:

“This is our present, Mikes and mine, to you two as a reward for being such troupers, the first time around.”

“We've had it rougher in Algonquin Park” Bert said. His smile alone said: “Thank you.”

“But without the heat” John added.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in settling into a place, which was to be their home for the next three nights.

“The Lodge also has a small dining room and we shall eat there in luxury.” Kel announced further.

“Is this what is called 'roughing it'? John asked.

They all laughed. “If it is, gimme 'roughing' every time.”

Close to their tent-site stood a large Baobab tree. Acacia trees formed a canopy, so dense, it gave the very air a greenish tinge. The beauty and the excitement of the place were palpable.

George, as promised, was there at six in the morning. All six feet of him, carrying a WW2 rifle.

The four had been waiting for him, ready to roar, for fifteen minutes.

“You sleep well?” George asked.

“Never better” said Kel.

Like a log” said Bert

Mike and John just mumbled total agreement.

“Now, just a few instructions”

The four looked attentively at George.

“we always walk in single file. Nobody walks in front of me. I'm always first in line.

When I raise my hand, palm forward, means stop right away.

Always be careful where you step.

When I motion: go forward, go forward slowly.

When I jump up and down, waving both hands like crazy man, run for your life:

Means hungry Lion come.

George's white teeth glistened out of his mouth when he laughed. And now he laughed.

The Four joined in this joke and also laughed out loud.

A little rise for the first few meters. They walked slowly, step by step.

Reaching the top of the rise, George gave the “Stop” signal and motioned that they should come to him.

“See, down there?” He asked. “down in Adrenalin Grass, Zebras grazing. Just black and white stripes visible.”

Bert pushed forward a little to photograph black-white stripes in tall grass.

He wanted to get closer and, pointing to his camera and to the Zebra down in the tall grass, he asked for Georges permission.

George gave it with a nod of his head.

Bert slowly, slowly neared this scene and his camera clicked and clicked and clicked again.

Zebras in Adrenalin Grass

A Pedestrian Crosswalk?

No! A Zeb behind a bush

One Zeb and many Imps

Man watching Zebs, or Zebs watching Man?

Burt returned to the group.

“Two Questions” he said to George: “Why is this grass called Adrenalin Grass? And why did you let me get so close. Was there no danger?

“George smiled his answer: “When you get closer to Zebs did not your heart pound a little?

“It sure did” Bert answered.

“You see, because you did not know what else was in the grass, your Adrenalin rose. That's why it's called “Adrenalin Grass”

“Could there have been a Lion hiding in this grass?” Bert asked.

“You did not know, but I did.' said George. “So long Zebs quietly grazing, no Lion anywhere near.”

George stopped at a termite mound. Taller than he was. He motioned to Bert.

“See over there? Elephant. Comes here every day. Eats, drinks, goes away.

We call him: Little George.

George laughed and pounded his stomach.

This little group, guided by this jovial, knowledgeable Shona, enjoyed a wonderful, exciting day.

**********************

The evening's meal consisted of Impala steak, green beans, carrots, sweet potatoes, and apple cake. Some very good South African wine rounded off dinner.

“Better than cold Mealie-Meal any day” Bert allowed.

“Okay” said George, who had refused an invitation to eat with his four charges.

“I'll see you tomorrow: Same place, same time.”

They had hiked the whole day. Tired, they fell into their cot-beds and slept the night through.

Before falling asleep, Bert sorted pictures which strolled through the crannies of his mind.

There were the golden colored Lions, with the dark brown manes, the male bragging of his broad shouldered chest, the females, sleek and determined. There were the Zebras, mother and child,

with the young 'Zeb' feeding from the seemingly never ending milk supply. Their black and white stripes melting into each other to make it difficult to know where one stopped and the other began.

Wildebeest tripped over Impala, warthogs grunted while on their front knees, shaving the ground clear of all eatables. Slowly the Spoonbill Cranes and the Saddle Bill Storks became one and the same and finally the gentle weaving of the Papyrus along the shore line of this island, or the next, caused sleep to come to Bert.

Then came the second day in 'Mana'

“I'll remember for ever, everything I saw today” Bert said thoughtfully.

“One sighting in particular, No?” Kel was teasing a little.

“Yeah” Bert answered quietly. “Yeah. One sighting in particular.”

“Tell us, Bert, there were tears, weren't there?”

“Maybe one or two.”

And Bert remembered:

They had come to one of the four ponds. Was it Long Pond?

There was a good level of water even though the Dry Season was in full swing.

George gave the 'Stop' sign and pointed toward the middle of the pond.

Bert placed the tripod safely and mounted the camera with the 800 mm lens.

The somewhat shorter focus lenses on two other camera bodies, he used 'free hand.'

George and Burt's three companions sat on the small berm.

In the middle of the Pond, a family of seven Elephants, in single file, crosses ponderously.

The leader of this small group, the Matriarch, leads the way. She is clearly 'Number One.'

Second in line is a baby. So small, it's almost totally submerged. The rim of its back and the trunk alone, stiffly pointing skyward, break the water level.

It draws precious breath through the trunk. There is Pride in this stance.

Third in line, is probably the mother, or an aunt of the baby. Her trunk rests on the baby's back.

It never, throughout the crossing, looses contact.

It's always: Trunk on back. Step after slow step, trunk on back.

Then come four more members of this small group. The speed and the length of each step is exactly geared to the infant.

The display of 'belonging together' of 'protecting the young', of 'being a family' showed so clearly that Bert, nearly moved to tears, almost forgot to trip the shutters of his cameras.

Not quite, fortunately.