Down the Zambezi

„DOWN THE ZAMBEZI“

AND

OTHER STORIES

Bert's Safaris

Down the Zambezi

„How much further is it?“ He asked of nobody in particular.

„Not that much. Another couple of hundred meters and we'll see the river.

And from there it's another half a kilometer.“ Kel smiled broadly.

It was a very hot day.

To carry two canoes, four paddles, food for four for 6 days, including potatoes, dried and vacuum packed meat, and, very important, a thermos box filled with ice, 30 kilos of camera equipment, including a heavy tripod, along with four folded mosquito nets, and four roll-up ground pads, made for quite a load and he was very glad that they had hired a group of local boys to carry it all to the bank of the Zambezi, right below the Hydro Electric dam at Kariba.

For the next little while they were busy sorting it all out and arriving at an equal distribution of the entire load in the two canoes.

Although the bearers had been paid, they stuck around, wanting to see those crazy white boys, trusting their fate in the river with those flimsy boats.

Did they not know there are Crocs and Hippos in this river?

Yes, they knew that there are Crocs and Hypos in this river.

The Zambezi flowed quietly and only now and then they used a stroke with the paddle to maintain direction. Then the river made a bend and the canoes came very close to the Zimbabwe shore.

A pod of Hippos were cooling off in the shallows, some of them lazily lying in the sand.

“Slow down.. let's slow down!” Kel called. “Hug the shore and let's not cut off their route into deeper water. They'll soon go into the river and then we can pass. ”

“Yes”, Mike added, “If you cut too close, Hippos get angry and we don't want to have to deal with a pod of angry hippos.” The chuckle in his voice took away none of the seriousness of the warning.

“What happens, if they decide not to go into the river but to hang around the shore for the day?”

Bert asked.

“Then we would have to back up and give them a wide space” Kel said. “But don't worry, they'll head for deeper water.”

The canoes had almost come to a stand still, when the last of the Hippos decided that it was the middle of the river where she wanted to be, and the Zambezi Adventure of the two Canadians, Bert and John, guided and protected by their two Zimbabwean friends, Kel and Mike, could continue.

The afternoon was long and hot.

In his safari hat Bert periodically scooped water from the river and poured it over his head.

This gave some short lived relief from the heat.

The two canoes drifted slowly down-river.

In late afternoon they reached a little island, not much more than a sand bank and Burt was very happy to hear Kel suggest that this should be their first overnight stop.

It was easy to pull the canoes out of the water and onto the sand.

“Look at these” Bert said to Kel, pointing at some regular indentations in the sand, “aren't these the footprints of an Elephant?”

“That they are” Mike said.

“Aren't we supposed to be just a little worried? John suggested.

Hello!! Ele was here"                                                 Very sophisticated sleeping quarters

“This Ele was here some time ago.” Kel's voice was casual. “He won't be back if he sees us here.”

At the up-river end, the island was about two feet above water, one foot in the middle and about 6 inches under the water level at the down river end.

Quickly a camp site was erected, and all four travelers put up their mosquito net in their fashion.

Bert used his fully extended tripod, over which he placed his 'mosy-net', on the ground a thin roll-up pad, and, as a finishing touch, his safari hat on top.

Then he slowly undressed, and walked to the down-river end of this sandbank. He carefully scanned the river, saw neither Croc nor Hippo.

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

He lay on his back, staring at the few white clouds in the sky. The water, clear, with a greenish tinge, lapped over his shoulders.

“Am I really here? Am I really here in Africa, lying on my back, on a sandbank in the middle of the Zambezi river, digging my heels into the sand, so that the gently flowing water won't float me down, eventually to Mozambique? Is it me lying here, looking at the sky?”

Am I really here, or am I just dreaming all of this.?”

Eventually Bert was convinced that this was what was really happening in this place and in this time.

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

“Hey, Bert,” Kel's voice penetrated to his consciousness, “come here and grab a bite to eat”

While he was dreaming, Kel and Mike had made a small campfire, using dry driftwood they had collected on the river's bank, and cooked up something which looked like Goulash, but tasted like some spicy Indian concoction.

For a while, the four ate in silence.

“It'll be getting dark fast now” Mike said

“Will we keep the fire going during the night?” John asked.

“Won't be necessary! We're on an island

What's more, we don't have enough wood. We gathered just a little more than we'd need for cooking.”

Kel scraped the last of his “Indian Goulash” from his tin plate.

There was a nearly full moon.

By his wrist watch it was about 3 O'clock in the morning when Bert woke up.

He could hear John and Kel, right next to him, snoring in unison.

Mike's sleeping bag was a little off to one side.

Bert sat up in his mosquitoes-barring contraption. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

He blinked and then he blinked again.

He saw a light flashing in irregular intervals on the Zambian shore. It seemed to flash in Morse-code... short flashes and then a few long ones and then short ones again.

A mild breeze moved the reeds at the end of the island, causing them to make a rasping sound.

The irregularly spaced flashing continued.

In a half-hearted whisper Bert called; “Kel! Kel! Wake up!”

Kel and John sat up quickly.

“What is it?” Kel asked. His voice was low and sleep-drunk.“What's the matter”?

“See, over there!” Bert whispered. “See the light flashing?

In a long forgotten war Kel had been assigned to “Intelligence”.

He remembered Morse and slowly he began to speak in a whisper:

“... u c k.. . c h i r u n d u .. h u n t ..s u x.”

“Poachers” Ken said, and again: “Poachers”

...” and they're not local boys. They'd be morse-coding in one of the Bantu languages, likely Bemba, if they come from Zambia, or, from Zim they'd be talking Shona or maybe Endebele.”

“I thought that English is the official language in both, Zimbabwe and Zambia” Bert said.

“It is, you're right, it is, but Poachers don't often use it.” Kel said

Mike, having crawled out of his sleeping bag, joined the other three.

“We have to go back” he said. “About a mile back, on the Zim shore there is a Ranger station. We gotta notify them”

“Bert and I will paddle back” Kel had taken command:

Turning to Mike he said: “You and John stay here and look after the camp.”

Bert and Kel grabbed one paddle each. The lighter of the canoes was floated and the trip up-river started with furious energy.

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

“You see anything else?” The Chief Ranger asked.

“No”, said Bert “Just the bursts of light from the Zambian shore, which seemed to come from a strong flash light.”

“And you?” he turned to Kel. “Are you sure the message asked for a truck?”

“I read the Morse: It said: “...u c k”. I do not know, but I assume, that the preceding letters must have been t.r. He hesitated for a moment. "Of course it could have been an "F" but I don't think so.

“We thank you profoundly” said the Chief Ranger without even a trace of a smile. 

“We will take appropriate action”

He and Kel looked at each other, neither breaking their stare.

“Well then, that's all there is! There ain't no more!” Kel said, and, turning to Bert:

“Come on, let's go back. We wanna go on a Photo-Safari!”

His voice was tinged with disappointment and frustration.

The way back, with the flow of the river, was easy and quick. They reached their island where John and Mike had been waiting, everything ready to go.

“Will they send anybody?” Mike asked.

“I hope so. But don't hold your breath” Kel answered.

They got into their canoes and shoved off, into the river.

Papyrus grass was densely packed along the island's shore line. Nests of Weaver Birds hanging from the sturdy plants.

A vertical shoreline, dotted with many holes, leading, so Kel explained, up to two meters into the ground, are the nesting places for the Red Breasted Bee Eaters.

White Throated Bee Eaters sat in the branches of bushes skirting the shore.

With paddles simply used for direction, the canoes floated slowly past these wonderful paintboxes of nature.

“Look” Kel said, “at two o'clock” Casually he pointed in the indicated direction.

There stood the Bull Elephant, trumpeting a challenge.

Burt's camera kept on clicking.

“Is this likely the one who left the foot prints in the sand?” John asked.

“Likely” Mike said.

Nobody moved. They sat in their Canoes, staring, slowly drifting past the Ele.

A small promontory jutted out into the river. Covered with a dense growth of grass, at its base a stunted acacia, a small rock formation at the very tip.

“There's something moving” Mike and John said almost in unison.

“Holy cow” Bert was obviously excited. “It's a Croc”

At this moment, the Crocodile decided that flight was called for. It lunged into the river, creating quite a bow wave.

“That's one of the big ones,” Kel allowed “Let's measure it”

Once the canoe had touched land and was secured, he stepped out onto the promontory.

“Here was the tail, just touching this maponi. The head was kinda resting on this rock”

With about 1 meter steps, Kel arrived at a 5 meter long Croc.

“Don't tangle with this one” he said.

“Your chances are about Nil.” Mike added.

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

The promontory created a small bay of still water and they needed to paddle out of it first, before the current would slowly take them down stream again.

The shoreline now was a vertical, one to two meters high embankment. Crocs were basking in the blazing sun. Carelessly the canoe with Bert and John came a bit too close. The Croc evidently wanted no part of this intrusion and in one mighty leap it 'flew' into the river barely inches in front of the canoe's bow.

“First time, I've ever been splashed by a Croc.” John's smile was a bit pained.

“We gotta give `em a little more space” Kel admonished Bert and John.

“They really want no part of you, but they also wanna be left in peace.”

“If bothered, they can become very nasty fellows.” Mike added.

Since this "leapin' Croc" was less than a meter from the bow of our canoe, and everything happened so fast, you must forgive the somewhat un-sharp image. 😆

A Saddle bill Stork, carefully lifting one leg, inserting the other into the shallow water, without causing a ripple, forever foraging for frogs, and any other small creatures, swimming about.

A family, mother and three goslings, of Egyptian Geese, waddling close to the shore line, the water barely covering their splayed feet, pecking for eatables here and there.  

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

Again it was Kel who spotted them first.

He just pointed in their direction and silently he nodded his head.

There, with the shore line rising, a small herd of Impala. The male's horns curving in an arc.

“The older the buck, the greater the curve.” Kel said.

Three males, seemingly watching over twelve to fourteen females.

The Impala knew of the dangers of Crocodiles. Cautiously they approached the water, a few laps of the important liquid, then they raised their heads again, cautiously scanning their surroundings, some more quick tongue wetting slurps and back up the little rise to relative safety.

This small group of Impala carefully observed the Elephant.

Once they realized that from this source came no danger, they continued grazing.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

It was high Afternoon. The sun beat down mercilessly and only a now-and- then-dousing with river water, scooped up with a small bucket, or in a safari hat brought temporary relief.

The near Zimbabwean and the distant Zambian shores were beautiful and exciting enough to let them forget the heat for a moment or two.

Palm trees swayed gently, and the Papyrus, growing in perfusion along the shore, gave off a dry rattle in the gentle breeze.

“I'd love to go for a swim” Bert said.

“The Crocs would love you to go for a swim too” Mike suggested, and the four friends laughed.

“What do you think” Bert turned to Kel. “Will the rangers try and find the poachers”

“I sure hope so” Kel said “but I wouldn't bet on it.” his voice not brimming with confidence.

“If they didn't go, we couldn't blame them. We didn't give them a whole lot of reliable information. We told them that there was a light signal coming from the Zambian shore. We could not give them a precise location... My operating with Morse was a long time ago. Maybe I was wrong!”

“You know very well that you weren't wrong. You spelled it out for the Ranger in no uncertain terms.” Bert was disappointed.

“Best we forget about it. We saw what we saw, we did what we needed to do, the rest is not up to us” Mike said and there was firmness in his voice.

“I suppose you're right”

“You know that I'm right.”

“There's a Hippo at one O'clock. We're heading straight at it. Let's back up a bit and give him a wider berth”

“Well spotted! And against the glare of the sun”. said John

The large Hippo was lying low in the water. Only his nose, eyes and ears were above water level.

This way, his whole body submerged, he could still smell, see and hear all of his surroundings.

With a snort, a bellow and a spray of water the Hippo told them that he was there and had no intention to give way.

Safely out of the hippo's territory, the two canoes floated in the middle of the river.

From behind an island, consisting mostly of papyrus plants, another “canoe” appeared.

Two natives sitting in a hollowed out tree trunk, deftly handling their paddles, cruising up-river, they hailed the four Safari travelers.

“Hey! You wanna buy good fish?”

“Only if it's Bream” Mike shouted back.

“We gotta Bream an' we gotta Tiger”

“Keep your Tiger! But let's see the Bream!

“Actually, I wanted to catch my own” Kel said, “but let's see what you've got”.

Proudly the two Shona displayed two good-sized Bream.

The three boats had come close together.

Mike held out his hands.

“Which you want?” then he added “ipi iwe da? Mari kana raura hzvihakohook?

“You want Money or fish hooks?”

“amwe ye ose” one of the Shona said with a broad smile. Then, as if to make sure, he added: “soma dis soma dat”

All four participants in these trade negotiations laughed.

Quickly some fishing hooks, some sinkers and some money and the two Breams changed hands and a “High Five” sealed the deal.

This is the home of the two clever traders,

who had carved their own canoe out of a log

and had made their own paddles from sturdy branches.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

“I had hoped, we'd make the Chirundu bridge before nightfall” Kel said.

“Not at the terrific speed we're going” Mike replied with a smile.

“It's about sixty five kms from Kariba to Chirundu. I estimate that we've done about 20 per day., maybe less. So, we have at least another day's paddle to Chirundu”

A small tributary, dried out this time of year, gave a safe landing spot.

“This is a river bed?” Bert asked.

“It is that, alright” Ken answered.

Then John, scratching his silver head worried:

“If there is a big rain, somewhere up river, there.” He pointed to the South, where he suspected the Highlands were, “could we not be swept away?”

His broad smile showed that he really did not himself believe in a 'Big Rain' in the middle of the Dry Period.

“If there were a Big Rain now,” Mike allowed, “yes, we'd be swept, sitting in our canoes, right down to Chirundu, Mana Pools, Chewore, Mozambique and finally into the Indian Ocean.

But we don't need to worry. There won't be a 'Big Rain'.

The Canoes were unloaded, sleeping areas were selected and everybody got busy collecting wood.

“We have to have a fire burning all night.”

“To keep mosquitoes at bay?”

“No, to keep Lions, Hyenas and Jackals from snooping. Don't forget! We are not on an island, like last night. This is the tail end of wide open Country.”

There was dry driftwood and other wood in great quantities.

“We'll keep the fire small.” Kel said

“At the outset I'll need a bit more for cooking” Mike said.

He, after the first night's success, had been unanimously elected as “The Chef.”

The other three were all “Sou-Chefs” doing practically nothing but Suggest, Recommend and Criticize, and, at the Chef's command, putting the occasional piece of wood into the fire.

It was a glorious meal: The two Breams, beautifully filleted. Outside crispy brown, inside soft, moist and tender, prepared with herbs and spices, quite unknown to Bert and John.

And then after the meal: the piece de resistance: Four collapsible drinking cups half filled with ice and tonic water and one bottle of Gordon's Gin, from which the four could each determine the amount of their mixture.

Here you are: You sit in the sand of a dry riverbed, within a few meters of the Zambezi River.

In the tree above you, a pair of African Fish Eagles, a family of Baboons chattering, waiting for an appropriate moment to steal something. Out, in the river, Hippos grunting, and on the shore some Impala. Reeds growing in, what in the rainy season, is the confluence of this nameless river and the Zambezi.

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

You have just consumed a delicious meal, and you carefully sip on a Gin and Tonic. You take it slowly, because you want to make it last. Isn't this the Life?

With a marker pen Mike had written the numbers 1 to 4 on four small stones, which he put face down into the sand.

All four picked up one of the stones. John would have the first watch, Kel the second, Mike the third and Bert the fourth and last two hour watch.

The Sun had long since gone down and it had gotten dark quickly.

Bert decided to go and brush his teeth before he'd crawl under his tripod contraption.

From his small 'hygienic bag' he withdrew brush and paste, heading for the river, only meters away.

Kel saw him and called: “Where you headin', Bert”

“Just to brush my teeth”

“Hold it for a moment. I wanna show you something before you go brush your teeth.”

Kel called for Mike: “Come here a moment, bring your flashlight. Bert wants to brush his teeth by the river.”

“Oh yea?” Mike joined Kel and Bert a safe distance from the water's edge.

They both directed the beam of the flash lights into the reeds, growing at the water's edge.

“you see the five pairs of red lights?” Kel asked. “They're just waiting for somebody to come to brush their teeth”

Bert's answer got stuck in his throat.

“See, Four of them are actually small ones. But the fifth one is three to four meters, easily.”

Mike had judged the Croc's size by the distance between their red reflecting eyes.

Bert admitted that he quite easily could do without brushing his teeth.

“That's why we got the water in this plastic balloon, from the middle of the river. For cooking and for brushing of teeth.” Kel grinned.

“In fact, if you drink the water from a stagnant area, if the Croc won't get you, Bilharzia will.”

“What's Bilharzia?” John asked.

“It's, I believe, a tiny little worm, which plays hell with your liver, and with your general interior.”

Bert felt like a fool, but also a deep sense of gratitude towards Kel and Mike for looking after him, the Greenhorn.

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

Bert and John sat on a fallen Maponi, Kel and Mike sat in the sand. They nursed their second Gin and Tonic.

“We'll get to Chirundu tomorrow afternoon” Kel said. He drew a map of the river with a stick in the sand.

“We're here” he said, drawing an X .“Now the river makes quite a bend, and I estimate that we are about 20 ks from Chirundu, where we can replenish our food supply.

Fresh vegetables, some bread and some fruit and maybe a nice piece of meat.”

“A friend of mine owns a 'Rondavo' in Chirundu,” Kel said. “kind of a round weekend hut, right on the river. We can stay there for the night.”

It got close to midnight. John's two hours fire watch was about to start. Kel was already sound asleep, knowing that he would be awakened in two hours for the second watch.

Mike and Bert made a halfhearted attempt at conversation.

Soon they too were asleep.

John put another piece of driftwood into the fire and watched the sparks fly.

Bert's watch from 6 to 8 was almost unnecessary. Daylight had broken and the fire had died down.

He heard the sound of an outboard motor and woke his companions.

The light stuttering sound came closer and finally there was the crunch of a metal hull hitting the sand.

“I thought I'd find you here. I saw the fire on the way down.” The Chief-Ranger said, as his helper pulled the boat up a little further onto land.

“You should know that four poachers are now in the custody of the Zambian Agency.” he continued.

Kel showed his surprised delight:

“How did this happen so fast?”

“Well” the Ranger said, “our Zambian colleagues had been tracking this gang for a while.

They would show up and disappear just as quickly and silently. Sometimes they'd be on this side of the river, sometimes on the Zambian side. We just never knew where they'd show up next. It was your information which allowed us to pin-point their present location.

Four Zambians and four of our guys closed in on them while they were all asleep and that's the end of them for a while. I had to pull our men out of there quickly since we have no jurisdiction in Zambia.”

“I wish I'd been there” Kel said.

“It wasn't exciting” said the Ranger.

“I just wanted you to know, that's all” he added.

“Well, I wish I'd been there” Kel repeated wistfully.

“Thanks for the tip, anyway” the Ranger shouted as they floated their boat into the river.

A short pull on the rip-cord and noisily they were off.

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

“Let's clean the site, do one more '360' and we're on our way to Chirundu.” Mike said.

“I would like to get there by mid afternoon, so we can do some shopping” he added .

“We'll just have to paddle a bit and not just go with the flow.” Kel suggested.

They sat in their accustomed places in their canoes.

Bert could not keep his eyes, nor his camera lenses, off the shoreline.

“There's a family of Eles, off to the right.
 A few meters downstream, a small herd of Cape Buffalo.

Must be 20 or more.

There are Impala!

Over there, three Zebras.

Over at this little island, a Saddle Bill Stork.

Fish Eagle cruising, looking for breakfast.”

Three Cheetahs out for a leisurely stroll.

The dying Sun catches the last two of  these Elles.

Curiously these  Buffalos stare at us.

Forever foraging for anything eatable.

Totally relaxed Cheetah

The Cameras clicked away and Burt beamed in anticipation 
of the slide show he would produce.

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