Chirundu Tales - Part 14

CHIRUNDU TALES  (Part 14)

We finally vacated the station at the end of November 1967.  As a quasi-government organisation we were required to pass on the bulk of our assets to other locally funded Research Council projects which had not been affected by UDI as well as government institutions such as the Tsetse Control and  Game Departments. 

As part of our daily routines throughout the life of the scheme we had a stores control system based on the value of each item.  When we were finally informed of the shut down, our American sponsors decreed that any item classified as Schedule “B” be written off!   “B” schedule items were valued  under  £40.00.  This greatly simplified our disposal  process  as this represented the bulk of the stock.

Items such as picks and shovels etc. were given to our labourers who were mainly peasant farmers from across the river.  Our carpentry tools were given to our carpenter whose total assets were enough to set himself up in business.  Our mechanic went away with a couple of bulging tool boxes also enough to set himself up. Most of our home made furniture, which technically had no value, was distributed amongst our senior African staff.  Basil and I both owned LandRovers  so we picked up a set of tyres each plus a few items such as wheel bearings, half shafts, gasket sets, coils and fuel pumps etc. from existing stocks

Once our livestock had been disposed of, we dismantled the handling facility and recovered the wire used in the enclosure.  We also dismantled the steel wire fences and removed the steel fence posts from our six paddocks. This material was passed on to the Tsetse department.

It was decided that the entomologists’ house and our guest house would not be dismantled but given to the Game Department who wanted to station a ranger there.  This was a big plus for the Williamsons and ourselves as it gave us somewhere to live whilst we were in the final stage of vacating the station.

Our African workers were made redundant in phases.  I was given the thankless task of working back through our payroll records and working out the total amount earned by each individual.  We worked on a system of last in, first out in fairness to our longer serving employees.  They all received a redundancy payment amounting to 10% of their gross earnings which I felt was a very generous gesture on the part of the US sponsors.  For many of the longer serving workers, the payments received were fairly substantial.

About 75% of our workers were from Chief Chiawa’s village on the Zambian side of the river.  As none of them was a passport holder they were technically illegal in Rhodesia but this fact had long been overlooked by the authorities on both sides of the border.  Consequently we were able to make arrangements for them to be repatriated without any of the normal formalities.  As each group were released, we transported them with all their “goodies” and deposited them at the Zambian border crossing at the Chirundu bridge.  It should be noted that at that stage there was none of the animosity between the two sides that developed in subsequent months and years.

It was sad to have to demolish our house even though it was small and half prefabricated but we had no option. For security reasons the authorities decreed that any buildings that were to be vacated and not re-occupied immediately must be demolished. So Helen and I dutifully sent our furniture into storage in Salisbury and moved into our guest house where we spent a couple of weeks.

 At this time some of the senior personnel became more frequent visitors so we again moved , this time to share with the Williamsons for the duration.  As our final departure approached we naturally began to think about a farewell party.  Messages were sent to a fairly large number of ours and the Williamsons friends.  Our lack of accommodation was known to all the invited guests so when they arrived they were all self sufficient in terms of sleeping gear and settled in on the lawn under the shady Tamarind trees in front of our guest house.  As luck would have it we were experiencing a dry spell so the tarpaulins we had in reserve were not needed.

My luck was not so good as I went down with a bad bout of malaria at this time and spent a couple of days laid up whilst Pebbles Williamson was packing up their goods around me and Basil was sorting out a few outstanding tasks on my behalf

Our party was scheduled for a Saturday evening but our visitors started to arrive several days before so it turned out to be a rather protracted affair.  Naturally we were going to have a braai and we sacrificed the bulk of the delicious impala/warthog boerewors that had been made by the butcher who bought some of our livestock  (the one who couldn’t shoot!).  Sadly it was so popular we had to take the little bit we had put aside for our last few breakfasts and add it to the feast.

Having dispatched our furniture and household goodies we were left with a small battery powered record player and a couple of extended play records as our only source of music for the party.  No one seemed to mind in fact we thought that the majority didn’t even notice the repetition that went on until well into the night. The next morning the area looked like it had been hit by a cluster bomb!  There were bodies a strewn all over the lawn and a wide variety of bottles and cans littering the entire site.  Several (actually there were a lot) of the guests were not surprisingly suffering from hangovers so it was not long before some  "Hair   of the Dog" was being administered. This in turn led to a revival of the party spirit and in no time people were jumping and splashing around in the river and as all were having fun, we sent a vehicle to the bottle store at Chirundu for a top-up.  The party lasted three days but sadly we had to vacate the station not really knowing what the future had in store.  My final task was to burn down the few remaining grass huts in our compound.  The Williamsons and ourselves were treated to a night at the Makuti Motel following which we went our separate ways.

Helen and I did not, at that time, realise how the Chirundu experience would impact on our futures but that is another story! 

chirundu Tales - Part 13

Chirundu Tales (Part 13)

At the end of 1967 the project came to a close. For all of us involved, it was a very sad time, particularly for me who had been there from the very beginning.  It was only when we started to dismantle the infrastructure that I realised just how much work had gone into the scheme.  My position as Station Manager meant that I was involved in everything that went on there apart from the actual collection of scientific research data. In an article in the ‘Rhodesian Farmer’ in May 1965 the journalist described my initial duties as “Starting from ‘scratch’, the Station Manager,(Me) lived in a tent while organising the laying of the water pipeline and road building, the establishment  of the camp and homes.  Now comfortably ensconced in a cottage on the banks of the Zambezi, he is responsible for labour and animal welfare.” The man should have won a prize for the art of précis writing.

In the previous 12 articles I have reported a lot of the fun side of living in the Zambezi Valley and the environment in which my wife and I, as well as my work colleagues lived, inevitably was a lot of fun if one chose to make it so.   The project, however, was a serious one and some serious effort went into making it work. Being a scientific exercise, that aspect was left to the scientists but at the same time they needed a lot of support for their field work which was where I came in.

We were allocated about 3,000 acres immediately adjacent to the Chirundu Sugar estate. This gave us plenty of options in terms of the way the station was laid out but numerous pre-requisites dictated what had to be done. 

The house I built for myself was a very basic combination of prefab metal and brick.  The prefab buildings we used fairly extensively were manufactured in Salisbury and the ones used as residences were lined with Cellotex walls and Kaylite ceilings whilst the others were left as bare metal.  Actually the inner linings were only partially effective in keeping the buildings cool so I chose to put thatch roofs over the buildings instead which also eliminated the noise of rain on the zinc.  The brick extensions on our houses and outbuildings such as offices and laboratories were built with hollow cement blocks manufactured on site.  Naturally we had plenty of sand available but we had to be careful of the quality we used as the first trials we carried out were a disaster as the sand was too fine.  After a lot of searching we found a large patch of course, sharp sand in the middle of a large sandbank and using a tractor and a small trailer we extracted a considerable stockpile which kept us going long after they opened the flood gates at Kariba and the sandbank was submerged.

Apart from establishing staff housing we had to develop the infrastructure at the same time and one major undertaking was the distribution of water to the entire 3,000 acres.  Using a hand carried altimeter that came out of an old aeroplane, I identified the highest point on the station, a twin -peaked  hill called Kakomamarara (Sp?) “The Hill of the Palms”.  At the top of the hill we installed two 4,000 gallon water tanks that were mounted on concrete bases.  The water was extracted from a sand bank upstream from our HQ.  We constructed a manifold of 3” perforated pipes that were sunk into the sand so that the extracted water would at least be partially filtered.  Our pumping equipment consisted of two 5 Stage centrifugal pumps, each driven by twin cylinder Lister engines housed in a small pumping station. These were linked to a 2” system that was used throughout the project. The pumps could deliver about 2,000 gallons an hour to our main tanks which was more than adequate for our needs so we only had to run them for a few hours each day.  The elevation of the main tanks meant that the rest of the system was fed by gravity. The delivery pipes to all our storage tanks except the main ones described above, were fitted with shut-off valves so they were automatically closed when each tank was full.  This system worked well.

It was decided from the start that we would use galvanised 2” piping as standard.  Polypipe was an option but as it would need to be buried to avoid damage by elephants or buffalo, the cost of burying it in the stoney conditions that prevailed were prohibitive. There was also the potential problem of leaks if the pipeline was damaged which would attract the attention of wild animals. Also there was the likelihood of plastic pipe bursting under the extreme pressure required to deliver water to our main storage tanks. Our guest house and one of the staff houses were located close to the pumping station so we installed a 2,000 gallon tank on a home -made 20 foot stand to keep them supplied.  Also adjacent to the pumping station was an area that had previously been cultivated by residents who had long since been moved out of the valley so I decided to use some of the available water to start a small irrigation scheme to grow fodder for our livestock.

The main storage tanks were located near the Western boundary of our property so to supply a staff house, which was centrally located  in our fenced area, as well as  the headquarters, a total of over 2 miles of pipe was required.  To facilitate water supplies to the six three hundred acre paddocks, we placed tee-pieces every 100 feet in the line, the open port being plugged.  We were thus able to remove the plugs and fit valves at any point where water might be required. We also put in a 2,000 gallon tank at the staff house built in the centre of the paddocks.  Finally we installed another two 4,000 gallon tanks on a hill behind the main camp which also served our labour lines. The exposed piping proved to be very efficient in terms of the amount of maintenance it required but because of the high ambient temperature the water in it was very hot during the day in fact at our house, we used to run a bath long before it was needed so the water could cool down sufficiently for us to get in.  On the plus side the hot water served to eliminate any likelihood of Bilharzia that may have been in the system. To be on the safe side, we boiled all our drinking water and filtered it through a chalk candle filters.

Our guest facility was located in a beautiful spot shaded by several Tamarind trees.  It consisted of two prefab rondavels connected by a gauzed veranda which served as a lounge and dining room. To the rear was a brick building which housed the fully equipped kitchen, the bathroom and toilet, and a lockable store room where people, who were regular visitors, could store personal items if they chose to do so. It was also kitted out with beds and furniture made in our carpenter’s shop. Nearby were the two bedroom entomologists house and a prefab scientific storeroom.

Livestock played an important part in the collection of scientific data and initially we purchased 50 indigenous cows and three bulls as well as 25 sheep. Because of the potential threat of attacks by lions or leopards we constructed a kraal fairly near our headquarters.  Using Mopani poles we built 4 pens for the cattle and a roofed shelter for the sheep all of which were surrounded by a robust fence with a barbed wire apron both on the inside and outside. Adjacent to this we constructed a cattle race with sorting pens under a thatched roof .

The animals were to be used as bait to attract tsetse flies as well as providing food for caged animals so we were not permitted to dip or spray them to control external parasites. As bait animals they were either tethered in “bashas”or led along plotted paths and flies that landed on them were caught, marked and recorded by trained field technicians.  In order to do this we needed to train and tame the animals to be calmly led or tethered. To achieve this entailed a lot of hard worked but eventually all 50 head were trained and later on when calves were born we got in early and trained them in the weaner stage. Probably the most important aspect of our animal husbandry was the regular injection of a drug called Samorin which controlled trypanosomiasis. This was a relatively new drug and was still being tested so we worked in close liaison with the Veterinary Department on its usage.

Ticks presented a bit of a problem and the bulk were manually removed from the animals when they were tethered but we did not escape the challenge of diseases other than ‘tryps’.  Because of this, we had to carry out regular checks which involved taking blood smears and examining them through a microscope.  Where we had a positive diagnosis, the animals were treated straight away but any suspect or unidentified findings were referred to the Veterinary Department in Salisbury for confirmation.  A wide range of drugs were available on site and we vaccinated all the animals for diseases such as Quarter Evil and Redwater etc as well as regularly dosing them for internal parasites. Detailed records on each animal were kept which to me was a real headache as clerical work was the least favourite of my jobs  Actually I once submitted a totally fabricated monthly report on my Land Rover mileage which reflected a deficit from the previous month.  Head office wanted to know if I had spent the month driving in reverse!

I also had to keep pay records for our 60 or so staff as well as fuel records for our vehicles, pumps and generators etc. plus a monthly inventory of our stores.

One of our major undertakings was the opening up of a 16 plus mile all-weather road that linked us directly with the main North Road a few miles North of the Nyakasanga  bridge. We had three tracks linking us directly with the sugar estate but these were impassable for much of the wet season unless we used our tractor. The road was designed by Bob Pilson of the Tsetse Department and for the most part was passable all year round but there were a couple of sections where drainage was a problem and we had to lay out a corduroy of Mopani logs. 

Bob provided aerial photos of the proposed road and a list of compass bearings and number of 100ft chain lengths for each section, so armed with the chain and a prismatic compass I proceeded to peg the road out.  Using only hand labour, it took several weeks to clear the way through at which point a grader was hired for two days to smooth it out.  Credit must go to Bob who did an excellent job in the planning as he was able to identify a single tree on our station that was the start point for our road.

Having reached the main North Road we reported the fact to the Dept of Roads who kindly told us that we were 20 feet out and must clear a new junction where a culvert would be installed.  I was very proud of my accuracy in only being 20 feet out in 16.3 miles but was more than a little peeved at having to re-cut the last few yards to connect with a very flat section of main road.  Actually if one looks at “Chirundu Hills” on Google Earth, (Coordinates 16.08.13 S and 29.03.12 E) the ‘adjusted’ junction is still very clear as is most of the road which is obviously still in use after nearly 50 years. The straight sections are very clear for the most part but tend to disappear near the old HQ.

In addition to the buildings already mentioned, we constructed an office /laboratory block, a central storeroom, a vehicle workshop with a tool room and an inspection pit, a carpenters shop, a generator room and a large storeroom for animal feed. We also constructed a large insectary which had double external brick walls, the space between them being filled with sand for insulation and an insulated ceiling. The entrance consisted of a double doored de-flying chamber.  Internally was a large cage with walking space on two sides. As the objective was to create a controlled environment that would be suited for the creation of a breeding colony, the room was fitted with air-conditioners and humidifiers. I cannot recall what the temperature was set at but in the middle of summer, it was way below the external temperature so Helen and I would often go in and have our afternoon tea there. It was essential that the atmosphere was constant 24/7 so we ran a 6Kva generator around the clock which was super for us as we were very close by and were able to tap into the supply for our house.

In addition to the permanent buildings, a wide selection of cages were constructed ranging from 16x24x8ft roofed cages to one that encompassed a whole tree, and another that covered a quarter of an acre with 17ft walls and an open top. The latter was inhabited by warthogs, sheep and young buffalo at various times.

It is regrettable that having built up the station and got it running, as a result of political decisions made in the USA following UDI, instructions were given to wrap it all up before any of the real scientific objectives had been achieved.  Sadly the closure of the station will be the subject for the next and final episode of this series.

Chirundu Tales - Part 12

CHIRUNDU TALES (PART 12)

Fishing in the Zambezi was a major attraction and a lot of fun but at the same time as far as we were concerned, it could be a serious nuisance as it attracted a mixed bag of anglers to our station.  The majority were good people but there were a few who were, shall we say, less than welcome. Of course our location was a magnet as we usually kept our access road in good shape so for the most part 4 wheel drive vehicles were not necessary. In addition we had a small shaded area set aside for campers with a water supply and a ‘long drop’ toilet.

Helen and I went to Mana Pools probably one weekend a month during the dry season. Early on, fuel was not a problem but once rationing was introduced we were severely restricted. My personal ration was only enough to get me to the filling station at Chirundu and back but I was able to secure a permit allowing me to draw my ration in a container which was a big help.  We were then able to save our ration for two or three weeks which was enough for a Mana trip or a trip out on the river.

The station was, for all intents and purposes, like a farm and was a seven day a week operation. It amazed us how people from the cities thought that they were doing us a favour by descending on us.  On Saturday evenings we routinely had a braai using Mopani logs for the fire and a three legged plough disc on which to cook our meat.  It was really peaceful sitting out in the open listening to the sounds of nature and enjoying our own company.  Actually, on a couple of occasions when we dreaded the thought of unexpected or uninvited visitors, we packed our Land Rover with camping gear and parked it up ready to move if any did arrive. Luckily none ever did.

On Sunday mornings we usually did a bit of fishing mainly from the bank as fuel rationing restricted  the usage of our boat.  Anyway that was not a problem as there were plenty of fish to be caught nearby. When I first set up camp in 1964 I was approached by a Sugar Estate employee to allow his  visiting brother, who was a keen fisherman, to set up camp near to mine.  I had no problem with this as I was only just starting the serious work on the project so was happy to have company.  The chap was called Nick and became a good friend.  Nick had the use of his brothers’ boat which was great for him as he could come and go as he pleased.  He spent most of his days on the river but did not catch very much to begin with.  For my part I had very little in the way of tackle so did not have much knowledge of where and how to fish.  Anyway one evening I went out with Nick and we anchored at the tip of a sandbank about half a mile upstream from camp and within a few minutes, Nick got a serious strike which turned out to be a Tiger fish that weighed a few ounces short of 20lbs.  Little did I know that it was the heaviest Tiger that was caught during my time in the Valley.   Ten pounders were not uncommon but generally the fish caught were in the 5-6lb range.  Surprisingly, Nick fished the same spot for several  hours each day that he was there but failed to get a single bite.

Gradually I built up a fairly broad selection of fishing tackle and learnt where and how to fish for the various species.  In front of my camp, using a simple hook and sinker setup I could catch Chessa and N’kupe at will.   Very close to where we built out guest house was a rocky outcrop called Ullyetts Camp which incidentally was a bare patch and had nothing to identify it as a camp.  I later learnt that there had in fact been a camp there, built by man called Ullyett, many years before.  The water there was deep and it was a good spot for Cornish Jack and Bottlenose. 

One day I was visited by a representative from Shell who was looking into the possibility of installing bulk storage tanks for our fuel. The man was obviously a keen fisherman as he had loads of tackle in his vehicle.  Having sorted out the business side of the visit he had a couple of hours to spare so I sent him off with a guide to Ullyetts camp.  A little over an hour later he returned grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.  We weighed his catch of 4 Cornish Jack which came in at  6.25, 7.25, 8.5 & 9.5 lbs.  Not a bad day’s work!

On another occasion I was visited by Bob Howarth who was an old friend of my family and a former work colleague of mine.  Bob was a keen fisherman and kept a fairly large boat at an angling club on Lake McIllwaine.   On the station we occasionally killed one of our oxen for workers rations and when we did I always claimed the heart which I kept for bait. Bobs first day with me was a disaster as he got seriously stuck in the mud and took hours to get out of it.  Anyway the next day I took him to a spot on the Zambian bank where I set him up with a heavy rod baited with Ox heart. The bait hardly touched the water before there was a strike.  It was a vundu of about 40 lbs.  While Bob was fighting it I set up a second rod so as soon as we boated the fish I gave Bob the second rod.  It was exactly like the first time and a second vundu was boated.  This sequence was repeated time after time and the catch included a couple of Tigers as well as Vundu.  I guess by the time we had boated about a dozen fish, Bob was exhausted so we headed for home.

Bob was beside himself with excitement and over lunch he said his friends at the club on Lake Mac would never believe what had happened to him unless he took his catch back to prove it. I had no problem with this. His car was a VW Beetle and to take all the fish, we had to fold the back seat  down.  We bagged the fish in grain bags and as soon as he was loaded he set off and with the help of our tractor, was soon on the highway and on his way home.  About a week or two later I got a letter of thanks from Bob which enclosed a photo of him with his catch. Apparently the same picture had been published in the Rhodesia Herald.

Naturally there were a lot of keen fishermen on the sugar plantation and there was a wide variety of boats moored at their main pumping station.  Probably the keenest fisherman was a chap called McKenzie, better known to everyone as “Bonk”, a truly remarkable character.  When I first met him he had a very sturdy steel boat he called his ‘Hippo Basher’ which was pushed along by an antiquated outboard engine.  Without a doubt he was the king of the river and never failed to return without a good catch in his boat.

Bonk eventually upgraded his boat and engine and it was in his boat that Evans and I had the close encounter with the cow hippo reported in Part 10 of this series. He was a regular and very welcome visitor to our station and during the school holidays always had his three sons with him.

One weekend he took Helen and I for a trip up the river to Kariba Gorge where we spent the night.  We camped on a sandbank from which Helen caught a Vundu and a Tiger, our only catch that day. The following morning, after a noisy night,(Baboons and Leopards)we went upstream and got very close to the dam wall which was very exciting. On our way back Bonk took us down what he called Tiger Alley which was located between “A” and “B” hunting camps. There we drifted in the current with baited hooks dangling over the side.   Our first pass produced two good sized Tigers.  We went back upstream, repeated the exercise, and caught another fish.  We did this several more times and had about a 50% success rate.

Another keen fisherman was Helen’s brother–in-law, Neil Ash who was also an employee on the sugar estate.  One Sunday afternoon he visited us with his family, his wife Angela and children Robert and Carol.  He and I went out in our boat and tied up at the same spot where Bob had had so much success.  In quick time Neil got a very strong bite from a vundu and it took us quite a long time to boat it.  It was the biggest vundu either of us had ever seen so we untied the boat and headed back to base so we could weigh it before it lost too much weight.  It weighed in at 89 lbs!  Vundu were known to reach weights of over 100lbs but this was the biggest known to the local residents and I very much doubt if it was bettered before the estate closed and we moved out.

Downstream from our HQ were several fishing camps, some of which were regularly used. A chap called Zak Olivier, a farmer from Karoi, was one frequent visitor and usually had good catches from the deep water off the rocks in the front of his camp.  I visited him and his family one Sunday morning to find that they were having a problem landing Bottlenose and Cornish Jack.  The fish were definitely on the bite but every time they hooked one, a Tiger would attack the fish and tear it to shreds.  One of Zaks’ enterprising employees found himself a piece of baling wire about 10-12 feet long.  He fashioned a loop in one end to make a handle and scrounged a large hook which he attached to the other.  He baited the hook with scraps of fish and sat and waited.

As soon as another fish was hooked he moved to rivers edge and proceeded to cast his baited hook into the water.  The result was instantaneous.  On his first cast he got a strong tug which nearly pulled him into the river but he kept his balance and jerked the wire.  The next thing we knew there was a large Tiger, about 10-12lbs flapping on the bank.  I think the time taken to hook and land the fish should have been entered in the Guinness Book of Records!

One Easter weekend we, somewhat reluctantly, entertained a couple of “friends” from Karoi who were accompanied by the wife’s brother and another couple from Salisbury who were rather rich Greeks. The weekend was a disaster from start to finish but I will spare the readers most of the details but as I am on the subject of fishing one tale has to be told.

The party had brought a virtually new outboard engine with them so we fitted it to our boat as our engine was old and a bit unreliable.  Having done that, the visitors completely took over and for 3 days were up and down the river trying to catch a fish.  They failed. The Greek was less than polite about the river and said it was a waste of time. For my part I was fed up as I had been working most of the time and sick of the gripes I was faced with when I got home. Poor Helen was also fed up as our cook plus the kitchen had been taken over so she was almost a stranger in her own home.

On the last day they were there, over lunch, I challenged the Greek to a bet that I would bring in a 20lb fish that afternoon.  The bet was for £20.00, about 40% of my salary at that time, so it was with a lot of trepidation on my part that we set off. To fail to catch a fish would have been a disaster for me.

 In the boat were me, the Greek, our two “friends” plus their brother which was rather a crowd for a 12 foot boat. Anyway I took them downstream to a fairly shallow spot near “D” camp. I baited a large hook, cast it out, and handed the rod to the Greek.  In a few minutes he got a strike and under my guidance brought the fish, a vundu of about 40 lbs, to the side of the boat at which point ‘brother’ asked if he could gaff it.  I handed him the gaff but he completely messed it up and took a swipe at the fish, missed it, and got the gaff tangled in the line.  There was a loud crack and the fished departed along with my hook and steel trace!   I was gutted but somehow managed to retain my composure.  I tied a new trace on and set the second bait. 

Thankfully there was another bite within half an hour or so at which point I told the other 3 to move forward, sit down and shut up! The Greek brought the fish to the side of the boat and I derived a lot of pleasure out of gaffing it and dumping it in his lap!  It was a 30 pounder so my £20.00 was safe, about the only good thing that emerged from what had been an Easter that we would rather forget.

Chirundu Tales - Part11

CHIRUNDU TALES  [Part 11]

For security reasons we maintained a pack of dogs to alert us of any possible activity by the terrorists who were becoming more and more active as time went on.  The majority were  Doberman/Fox terrier crosses which were medium sized and proved to be extremely reliable watchdogs but they did not restrict their activities to humans.   There were a lot of baboons in the area no doubt attracted by the presence of sugar cane on the nearby estate plus the maize and fodder crops we grew for our cattle and sheep.  

Whenever troops of baboons exposed themselves near our headquarters, the dogs would set off in hot pursuit and would bravely engage them in ferocious battles which often resulted in rather severe injuries and sadly the odd death.  As a result, I became a dab hand at stitching cuts and gashes.  I was lucky to have support from the vets who we worked with on our research so I was able to secure a wide range of veterinary drugs and equipment that would not normally be available to a layman such as myself.

In addition, we had to put the dogs on a drug regime to prevent trypanosomiasis, a system that worked well.  We also had two pedigree dogs that were not as aggressive as the crossbreeds, namely a Wire Haired Terrier called Nambi and a Golden Labrador Retriever called Romeo.  Both of these animals travelled with me in my Land Rover a lot of the time and in so doing generated some interesting situations.

One unforgettable incident was when I had Romeo with me in the front of the Land Rover at the junction of our access road and the main highway near the Nyakasanga bridge.  It was around midday but surprisingly we encountered a small herd of elephants crossing the road.  As usual in the dry season I had removed the jeep doors.  Romeo, in his wisdom, decided to have some fun so he jumped out of the vehicle and proceeded to chase the elephants, barking as he did so.  The herd consisted of about eight cows and calves and one of the mothers decided that Romeos’ presence was not appreciated.  She turned on him and let out a loud trumpet at which point he did an about turn and headed at speed back toward the vehicle.  I have to admit that at that point I was getting a little worried but having turned Romeo around, mother elephant seemed to be satisfied and gave up the chase.  I thought that this would close the event but I was very wrong.  As soon as she returned to the herd, Romeo, who was still out of the vehicle, repeated the attack but this time mother elephant got fed up and embarked on a very serious charge.  Romeo must have sensed that she was really angry and headed straight back toward the vehicle and jumped clear through the doorway opening almost landing on my lap and nearly busting some of my ribs in the process.  Luckily there was sufficient space for me to get by so I accelerated away, narrowly avoiding the oncoming beast.  I have to admit that I was badly shaken by the event.

When the hunting season ended, African game scouts were left to guard and keep clean the three hunting camps between us and  Mana Pools, namely “D” “E” & “F”.    On a couple of occasions when rangers were otherwise engaged, I was asked to drop off some meat for the scouts which was a simple enough request.  All I had to do was drive down the road and bag three impalas and drop one off at each camp.  On one of these trips, I had the terrier Nambi with me in my stripped down Land Rover and shot an impala out of a herd that were standing in the road about 50 yards ahead.  The impala went down but lay kicking where it fell.  Nambi jumped over the folded down windscreen and ran straight towards the fallen animal. I expected her to make a grab for it but she had other ideas.  This all happened within a few seconds and I instantly realised that the rest of the herd had not fully dispersed and several were standing in the open Mopani forest.  The dog, having ignored the wounded animal ran on and, it seemed, attempted to catch an impala of her own!  She lunged at the nearest one, which appeared to be a little mesmerised, but was rewarded with a rather vicious kick which launched her a couple of feet into the air.  Luckily she avoided the sharp hoof which could easily have seriously injured or even killed her. Not surprisingly, she was very subdued when she got back to the truck.

On another of these trips, I came across two police Patrol Officers who were based near “D” Camp and were patrolling the area between “D” and “E” Camps.  I was a little surprised to find a patrol without their usual African trackers but their absence was soon explained.  They had, in fact, shot an impala that was to be sent to the police mess in Chirundu.  I explained what I was doing which technically was illegal but as I was working with the permission of the game department it was considered acceptable.  At that point the officer called for the trackers to show themselves.  I agreed not to mention the incident to the game department and having dropped the patrol off at their bush camp, delivered the impala to the mess in Chirundu on their behalf.  Actually I think that the Game Department were aware that the policemen, on patrol, did do a limited amount of hunting but chose to look the other way.

Every quarter when we went on our regular visits to Salisbury, we used to take Nambi and Romeo with us and lodge them in a small kennels at Mount Hampden where they were examined by a vet.  We did this as insurance that I had not missed any diseases when I did blood examinations with the microscope I had on site.  One morning as we were about to leave for Salisbury, a boat arrived  at our mooring site.  It was an old man called Clive Meredith, a retired farmer from Gatooma who with his wife, spent most of the winter in a fishing camp about 2 miles downstream from us.

Clive reported that he had spotted our boat beached on a sandbank about a mile below us.  It was not visible from our house.  I had loaded our outboard to be serviced in town but luckily one of the  fishermen who often spent a weekend on the river had left his little boat, complete with its  outboard engine, moored next to ours. To say I was angry is an understatement so I took my light hunting rifle and set off to retrieve our boat.

Our boat had been beached behind a small bunch of reeds but the sandbank was very wide at this point so I could easily have seen anyone approaching from the Zambian  bank.  As luck would have it nobody did approach but had they have done so I would have definitely have fired a couple of warning shots.  Anyway I took our boat in tow and with the small engine on my friends boat slowly made my way home.  I then took the precaution of taking both boats up to the HQ.   We then set off for Salisbury.

The trip was as normal and having spent a couple of days enjoying the “highlights” we were happy  to head for home.   Our happiness did not last long because when we arrived at the kennels in Mount Hampden, we were greeted with the news that Romeo had died the day we had dropped him off. Apparently he was off colour in the evening and soon collapsed and died.  A post mortem was carried out from which the vet identified a particular poison known to have been used by terrorists.  Our only conclusion was that whoever had stolen our boat the previous night had left some poisoned bait and poor old Romeo got to it first.  It was a sad day for us as he had been a wonderful pet as well as a very good watchdog.

Military patrols were on the increase by this time and we were understandably happy to have them around as they usually set up camp within our station boundaries and close to the river.  Naturally swimming was always on their agenda, particularly in the summer months.

One patrol set up camp near our guest house which was on a shallow channel just off the main river so deep water was not far away. As each patrol returned to their base, they would invariably strip off and head for the water which apparently was against regulations but it was a rule nobody enforced as far as I could see. I was somewhat surprised however when the officer in charge of a unit arrived at our HQ and asked for our assistance as one of his “troopies” had disappeared whilst swimming.  The missing man was one of a group who were swimming in the deeper channel.  No-one seemed to know what had happened to him as there were no shouts for help and they also had no idea how much time had transpired before his absence was noticed. As they were swimming about a mile upstream from our HQ, I took our boat and accompanied by two soldiers, moved slowly upstream keeping as close to the South bank as I could.  We found nothing.  Our search continued until dark at which time the officer in charge reported the matter to his superior at Chirundu who in turn reported the incident to the police.

The next morning the search was resumed and was extended downstream of our HQ but again there was no sign of the missing man.  Eventually, after about three days, the search was abandoned and it was accepted that the man had died an accidental death, possibly the result of a crocodile attack.

It was some months later that the officer in charge of the group was in Lusaka on a private trip.  He was born in Zambia  but did not disclose the fact that he was in the Rhodesian forces for obvious reasons. As he was walking down the street one day he came across the missing man, as large as life!  Because of his circumstances, he was in no position to apprehend the man, in fact I believe he had to pretend he had not even seen him.  It was then assumed that the man had deserted and had hidden in reeds until dark and then swum across the river.

When I next met up with Peter Walls, I mentioned this incident and asked for his view on it.  He was pretty casual about it.  He said that the military “budgeted” for manpower losses of 5% even in peacetime so this loss was insignificant.

Actually the losses suffered by the military about that time were negligible but there were a few close calls.  One I recall involved a soldier called Bennett.   “Ugh” as he was known, was a heavy chap for his age and was large, mainly around the waist.  He had been in a unit that had camped near us several times so I got to know him quite well.

 The way it was told to me was that he had been on a night patrol with a few fellow soldiers upstream from the Chirundu bridge near a fishing camp called “Bolts”.  Where they were was very sandy with a lot of reeds and apparently they bumped into a hippo.  Hippos often left the river at night to graze on reeds and other grasses such as Panicum (Maximum and Ripens) that were plentiful on the sandbanks. They were moving in single file and UGH was near the front.  An alarm was raised and it seemed that he turned and ran back the way he had come. Being as large as he was, he tended to huff and puff a bit as he ran which scared one member of the patrol into believing he was the hippo bearing down on him.  In a panic the soldier fired in the dark at the oncoming grunt, unfortunately hitting poor UGH in the stomach!  The good news was that UGH survived!

Late one afternoon Basil Williamson and I were returning from a visit to another research station near Makuti and got stuck about three miles in on our access road.  As it was almost dark and as we had no radio contact with HQ, we had no option but to walk back to base.   At the crossing of our road and the old Menza Pan road there was a RLI ambush that we knew about as we had been supplying them with water but we were not aware of the presence of the SAS in the area.  Anyway we set off with Basil setting a good pace and it soon got dark. I must add that we were both carrying rifles. Luckily, as we were walking, we were talking and suddenly, out of the dark came a voice instructing us to halt.  Basil immediately Identified himself as did I and we urgently asked them not to shoot.  It must have been obvious that we were not terrorists and we engaged in a conversation with the ambushers who then identified themselves as SAS. They had no vehicle to assist us so we excused ourselves and continued our walk.  When we approached the RLI ambush location we took the precaution of shouting ahead and prevented any possible accidents.

The following morning when I took my Land Rover to retrieve Basils’, I measured the distance at  13.6 miles.  We had walked it in a little over 3 hours which went to show the pace Basil had set.  We were both “knackered” by the time we got home but our wives, who had been extremely worried, were very relieved to see us.  This was naturally understandable as it was after 9o’clock and they had absolutely no idea where we were.  

From then on, because we were not restricted in our movements in the valley, we insisted on being made aware whenever the SAS were in our area.

Chirundu Tales - Part 10

CHIRUNDU TALES.  (Part 10)

Over time, we had a few notable events involving some of our African staff.  Ambrose, our carpenter, who featured in a previous article when he thought he had been bitten by a snake, had a very keen interest in alcohol consumption and I doubt if a single weekend went by without him getting completely blotto.  Having said that, he was a very accomplished tradesman and could be relied on to turn out a professional product during the working week when he was sober.

One Sunday night he was in his usual tipsy state and chose to approach me about a salary raise he felt he rightly deserved.  The first I knew about it was when Helen woke me up to find him outside, shouting at the top of his voice and waving a machete. He was really far gone and not in the least bit interested in postponing the grievance until Monday morning.  I knew him well of course and did not feel that I was in any danger of being attacked but Helen had other ideas.  I tried to reason with him and eventually my watchman and a couple of other workers managed to coax him away.

This all took place next to our bedroom window and when it was all over and I went inside, I found Helen standing in the bedroom brandishing a 12 bore shotgun, which I might add, was loaded with buckshot!   The incident really upset her and I am sure that throughout, she was quite prepared to use it if he had actually attacked me.  She had been standing in the darkness with the gun pointed at Ambrose’s head about 2 yards away and I don’t think he ever realised how close he came to having his head blown off!

Evans Ratidzo was one of our Field Technicians who worked on the collection of data for analysis by our research team in Salisbury.  He had been well educated at school and was trained at Rekomeche Research Station  for the work he was employed to do.  For a city boy, he adapted well to conditions on the station, particularly when it came to encountering wild animals in the course of a days’ work. On a daily basis he would encounter a fair selection of wild animals, particularly elephants, but seemed to cope quite well in fact he only ever complained about one elephant, the sick one that was shot by George Mawdsly a sugar estate employee.

One Saturday afternoon I was informed by one of the field workers that a small herd of buffalo had penetrated our fenced area breaking the fence as they did so. I collected my rifle and as they were within a nearby paddock, soon located them.  For culinary reasons I chose a young bull which I managed to kill with a single neck shot.  The rest of the herd disappeared.

The herd had been in a fairly thick area so it was necessary to cut a track to recover the carcase. I walked back to our HQ to alert a crew to clear the track and allow a tractor and trailer in.  Evans, who was back at base, accompanied me back to the spot as he had never seen a dead buffalo before.  We were standing by the animal whilst waiting for the gang to arrive when Evans felt the call of nature and disappeared behind some bushes about 20 or 30 yards away.

After a few minutes I heard a loud yell and turned to see Evans hobbling back towards me with his trousers round his ankles. Initially I found it rather amusing but within a few seconds realised that he was in trouble.  He fell down before he reached me and was unable to get up, complaining of severe pain in his side as he tried to do so. When asked what had happened he said he was butted by a buffalo that attacked him from behind The gang arrived at that moment so I tasked them with making a stretcher whilst I went to collect my LandRover.  We loaded Evans up and I took him, with great care I might add, to the mission hospital at Chirundu where he was admitted. I then returned to the station.

Early the following morning I returned to the spot where the buffalo had been and found traces of blood.  It seemed that I had a wounded buffalo on my hands! With Julius as tracker as well as backup (he carried the .458) we followed the spoor and about a mile and a half on, we found a young dead buffalo heifer that had a hole in her rib cage.  We confirmed later that the hole was created by a .375 bullet, the same as I had used the previous day.  I had to accept that it was likely that I had inadvertently killed the two buffalo with a single shot and reported the matter to the Game Department who accepted that it must have been an accident as only one shot had been fired which was easily heard back at HQ.

Later in the morning I went to the hospital to see Evans only to find that he had been transferred by ambulance to the Government hospital at Kariba as the mission could not cope with his injuries.  I then drove on to Kariba only to discover that he had been airlifted to Salisbury where he spent several weeks in traction, having suffered a fractured hip.  On his release from hospital he was sent home with instructions not to return until he was 100% fit.  He returned to the Salisbury office just before Christmas and as it happened I was there at the same time on one of my quarterly trips.

Naturally it made sense that he would travel back with me and so we set off. When we reached Chirundu, we were greeted by a flooding Mwangu river that prevented us reaching the station.  Luckily I was able to borrow a boat from a friend on the sugar plantation and so we loaded up and headed for home.  The boat we were in was only about 12 feet long but had a large outboard engine which pushed it along at a good 30-35 mph so the 15 or so miles we had to travel should only have taken us about half an hour.   I knew this section of the river well so was not worried about hidden sandbanks or trees etc. 

About a mile downstream from the Kafue River junction I spotted a lone hippo well ahead of us and did not take any particular notice of it as hippo were plentiful in the area and would normally move out of the way of an oncoming boat.  Somewhat surprisingly I did not see the hippo again but when we reached the approximate point where it had been, it suddenly re-appeared, about 20 or 30 meters ahead of us and came straight at us with its mouth wide open.  As we were travelling at full speed there was little I could do except swerve to our left. Had I de-throttled, we almost certainly would have hit it head on.  Luckily the swerve worked but we were perilously close to it in fact the spray from the boat splashed over its head.  Evans , who was sitting to my right could have touched it I am sure but he chose to dive under the boat deck.  He emerged as I levelled the boat out and looked decidedly pale!  When I looked back upstream, the hippo had surfaced and next to her was a very young calf.  Problem solved!  The remaining couple of miles to the station were uneventful.

Shortly after we arrived home, I found Evans waiting for me outside my office.  He asked me for a sheet of paper on which to write his resignation!  He told me that as much as he enjoyed his job and respected me as his boss, he felt that being around me was not good for his health and there had to be a better way to make a living.  I talked him out of it in the short term and undertook to try and find him a better job. I sympathised with his sentiments and contacted our Salisbury office to see if there were any vacancies in the laboratory.  As luck would have it there was a position vacant for a junior lab technician so the transfer was made and Evans no longer had to worry about elephants, buffalo, hippos and me! 

Once he left for Salisbury, I seldom saw Evans again but I was very pleased to hear of his progress at the lab.  Obviously the American entomologists he worked with were very impressed and arranged for him to go to the USDA facility in Orlando Florida where he went on to study for a degree in  entomology at the University there.  I don’t know what became of him as he was still in the US when our project closed.    I’m sure he did well and no doubt had lots of tales about life in the wilds of Africa to tell his fellow students.

Once again my faithful watchman/tracker Julius gets a mention.  Whenever I went hunting or game catching , Julius would be with me.  The rules under which we residents were permitted to hunt were fairly strict and controlled by a committee of Chirundu Hunting Association members under the watchful eye of the Game Department.  The association was given a designated area to be hunted as well as  quota at the beginning of each season which was divided amongst the members.  Basically we each bought a General Game License that covered a selection of 12 of the smaller game animals such as Impala and warthog but did include two kudu as I recall.  Buffalo, elephant and the larger antelopes such as eland and sable and the big cats were hunted under Supplementary licenses as were additional smaller animals as long as they were within the overall quota. 

Because of my location, some people naturally thought I would be taking advantage and exceeding my quota but I emphatically deny ever having done that and religiously obeyed the rules.  After each animal was killed we were obliged to record it on the back of the license within 24 hours and report it to the Hunting Association secretary within 3 days.  There were no restrictions on game birds provided one had a valid Bird License.  I was never very interested in bird hunting and restricted my activities to the occasional Guinea Fowl or Francolin shot for the pot with my faithful little Brno .22. However I did on one occasion use a shotgun to very good effect.

The occasion started on September 30^th, the last day of the hunting season for game as well as birds.  The duck season started on October 1^st.   Helen and I were having dinner with the Stroebels, friends of ours on the estate.   Ral, the husband, proudly displayed a new 5 shot Remington semi-automatic shotgun he had purchased and insisted I borrow it and try it out.  Somewhat reluctantly I accepted.

As usual, there were a lot of guinea fowl nearby so I called Julius and we set off on foot intending to bag a couple of birds with the spanking new Remington.  The birds were in the gully below our HQ and soon took flight as we approached. I reacted by firing three rapid shots and saw a couple of birds fall.  Julius dashed forward and started to pick up the fallen birds and as he was doing it, I heard a vehicle approaching from the direction of Mana Pools and told Julius to stay out of sight.  It turned out to be Ranger “Scratch” Tebbit who was somewhat upset that having driven the 30 or so miles from Mana that morning he had not seen a single Guinea Fowl.  He had been asked to take some back to his colleagues at Marongora! 

I said that I might be able to solve his problem and shouted for Julius to come out of hiding.  He asked if I wanted him to bring out the birds, which was a little embarrassing.  Anyway he emerged carrying about 12 birds.  He was soon relieved of about 10 of them and “Scratch” departed with a smile on his face and not a mention about my shooting birds one day out of season.

Julius was a sort of gamekeeper on my staff and was responsible for controlling baboons and monkeys that were damaging our maize and protecting our domestic as well as game animals used in our various cages around the station plus our domestic herd that was kraaled at night at HQ.  He and two others were issued with single shot shotguns that were only used for crop protection.  Each evening the guns were handed in and locked up in my safe.

Very early on, Helen and a friend, Angela Faulder from Gatooma came on a visit and spent a couple of days with me.  One night whilst they were there Julius arrived at the house to tell me that there were two “Kitties” very close by, probably 50  or so meters away, just behind our chicken run. The Kitties were actually leopards I put a few Heavy Load SG shotgun cartridges in my dressing gown pocket and took one of the shotguns out of the safe.  I advised the girls to stay in the house.

With Julius holding the spotlamp we approached where he had seen them and sure enough they were still there, crouched closely together.  I was in a bit of a dilemma because although I was perfectly entitled to shoot I was reluctant to do so.  I decided to scare them off with a shot over their heads but when I pulled the trigger, all I got was a click!  I reloaded and tried again with the same result.  The leopards had not moved so we backtracked slowly and I took a rifle and let off a shot over the spot where they had been.  We did not see them again. Actually we never saw another leopard until the final week of the three years of the project when in a matter of three days, we saw five!

The shotgun was found to have a broken firing pin which sent a chill down my spine.  If I had have fired at the leopards and it was the shot that broke the pin, what would I have done if I had wounded one or both of them?  To put it mildly, Julius and I could have been in serious trouble not to forget the two girls who may have had a couple of casualties to deal with!

Chirundu Tales - Part 9

CHIRUNDU TALES  (PART 9)

The closing down of the project which resulted from Rhodesia’s UDI was, I was happy to say, a fairly protracted process.  My contract was due to expire in mid 1967 and naturally I did not expect the Council to renew it but somewhat surprisingly, I was asked to extend my contract to oversee the final closure of the Chirundu station. 

The time spent in the valley was exciting to put it very mildly and many of the events that occurred during that period are still firmly lodged in my memory although I have to admit, it is sometimes jogged by Helen, my wife. The people we met became good friends for the most part and some of them, with whom we had lost contact, have popped up from time to time in various ways.  A good example is the Williamsons, Basil and Pebbles who have already been mentioned in this series.  When the station closed Basil joined the game department and was stationed in Wankie.  I joined the Veterinary Department and we ended up in Mtoko so we lost contact.

Some years later we were living in Jamaica and were entertaining a couple of Rhodesians for dinner.  It transpired that the wife had previously been a tour guide based in Wankie National Park and knew the Williamsons well.  It was from her that we heard the sad news of Basil’s passing.  Nevertheless in the course of the evening, the news did generate a lot of laughs as tales from the past emerged.

Having recently read Peter Godwin’s book “FEAR – The Last Days of Robert Mugabe” the Williamson name re-appeared in the form of Pebbles and ‘Spike’, who we assume must be Craig, the well behaved baby who was carried in a specially fabricated cot in the back of Basil’s Land Rover on our trip to Chewore. In the book Spike boasted of his dad’s ability to urinate over a signpost at the “Waterbuck Head” pub. I think we can beat that one!

Whilst we were camping at Mana Pools one weekend, there was a 21foot boat parked upside down at the ranger camp.  Basil was proud of his talent for long range urination and was prepared to take on bets that he could clear the boat without putting a drop on it!  I don’t remember what bets were made but I can confirm that Basil won!  Actually Helen was also able to confirm this as she came around from behind one of the ranger huts as the event was in progress!

Another of Basil’s party tricks was the passing of wind regardless of who was within earshot.  He would point his forefingers, pistol fashion, at one of the people present and let go! Again Mana Pools features in the next story.  As usual we set up our beds around a campfire which by morning had died down to a few smoking embers. Out of the early morning silence came the unmistakable sound of one of Basil’s inimitable discharges.  The response from the rest of us could have almost been rehearsed as everyone simultaneously shouted “Basil”!   He denied being the guilty party saying if it had been him, the fire would have burst into life.  No sooner had he said it than the fire did burst into flames!

As things began to wind down on the station we started making plans for the disposal of the wide range of assets. A major asset was our herd of cattle which over the years had increased considerably despite our having sold many to the Chirundu  Estate.  Our plan was to retain about 50 head for use in the rundown of the experimental work on the station.   The balance, about 100 head, were to be sold in batches of about 20.

We advertised them in the press and one weekend I was visited by a butcher from Karoi who was interested in buying all of them. He arrived one Saturday evening and was able to examine most of the animals before sunset.  He spent the night with us and asked if he could do a spot of hunting the following morning.  Legally this was a non starter as he was not a Chirundu resident  or a member of the Chirundu Hunters Association but I had a couple of animals left on my current hunting licence so I agreed to bend the rules a little bit and let him shoot an impala and a warthog on my behalf. He was very excited as he had brought a brand new 30.06 rifle, fitted with a scope sight with him and was keen to try it out.

We left early on Sunday morning and did not travel very far before we came across a herd of Impala.  The butcher had a shot that was definitely a miss but I put it down to “Buck Fever” and suggested he try and calm himself down before the next shot.  Sadly this did not work for the next and several more shots.  I was satisfied that he had completely missed with every shot he fired  and there were no woundings but have to admit I ran out of patience and told him so.  On the way back to base I was able to bag an Impala and a warthog so he went back to Karoi well supplied with meat.  Actually on our next day trip to Karoi he presented us with a large parcel of boerewors which had to be the nicest we had ever tasted.

Late in October 1967 Helen and I were guests of ranger Cliff Freeman for a boating weekend at Mana.  We travelled down in our boat on the Saturday and were the only visitors to the park as it was closed for the rainy season.  On the Sunday morning Cliff took us on a boat patrol down river during which we were to do a bit of fishing at one of his favourite spots.  On the way we encountered some Zambian poachers who had set out nets on the Rhodesian side of the river.  As soon as they saw us the paddled away to the Zambian shore leaving the nets behind.  We loaded the nets into Cliffs’ boat and continued the trip.  Having done a couple of hours fishing we set off back to Mana around lunchtime.

 Surprisingly we ran out of fuel several miles below the camp. I say surprisingly because Cliff assured us that he had done the same trip many times and a single tank of fuel was always enough.  Unfortunately when we ran out of fuel we were in a deep channel on the Zambian  side of the river and it would have been impossible for us to paddle to the South side without losing a lot of ground.  We decided to pull into the Zambian bank and pull the boat upstream as far as we could and then paddle across as quickly as we could without being carried too far down stream.  We beached on a sandbank and started off upstream pulling the boat.  In the course of this we encountered several crocodiles but they took off into the water and were no serious threat to us.  It was obvious that we could not reach the South bank without losing a lot of ground which was a daunting thought as none of us was wearing shoes.  At the same time we wanted to avoid being arrested by the Zambian authorities as feelings between Zambia and Rhodesia were not good to put it mildly.

In desperation I looked into the fuel tank and found that there was about a pint or so in the bottom.  The best we could do was to cut the fuel line and dip the end into the fuel which , with the tank tilted gave us at least a little usable fuel.  I sat with the tank tilted on my foot and pumped the fuel with the in-line pump.  As soon as the engine started we set off at a slow speed and luckily managed to reach the South bank.  As long as the fuel lasted we continued upstream but it did not last very long and we had to tie up.

The barefoot walk back to camp was anything but pleasant due to the presence of acacia thorns but we finally made it. We decided that running out of fuel as we did must have resulted from the extra weight of the nets we were carrying.

About this time I was invited to participate in a game catching operation at Mana by Harry Cantle who had taken over from Boyd Reese as Senior Warden at Marangora.  We were looking to catch young impala which involved to use of spotlights as the young animals were very effectively hidden  by their mothers and were very difficult to locate. We literally had to creep up on the hidden lambs and at the last minute jump in and snatch them.  A problem we had was that the rains were imminent so time was not on our side.  Added to this, the moon phase was not on our side  and the use of spotlights  was not possible as they were ineffective whilst the moon was shining.  We decided to try and get some sleep soon after dark and start the operation as soon as the moon set.  This worked well for us for several nights.

Each night operation concluded as soon as dawn began to break and we would return to camp for a welcome cup of coffee and breakfast.  One morning, I was the first back in camp and was in the process of making a brew when I heard the distant sound of a vehicle and a lot of laughter.  In the quiet of the early dawn, noise travelled a long way.  Actually the laughter grew louder and continued until the party arrived back at camp, still laughing.

Apparently they had sent in one of the rangers ( who I will not name) to make the catch and as he was approaching the animal, Harry, who was holding the spotlight, happened to notice a movement to one side.  It turned  out to be a leopard that was stalking the same impala as the ranger!  Always up for a laugh, Harry decided to see what would happen so the crew with him were able to watch the event unfold.

As the ranger was about to pounce on the animal, the leopard had the same idea and according to the onlookers, the leopard won the race by a couple of feet and disappeared into the darkness complete with the unfortunate impala!  When they reached camp I could see that the ranger concerned was far from amused but it certainly got a laugh out of his colleagues.

On new years’ eve we were invited by Ranger Henry Pringle and his wife Jacqui to spend the evening with them at Marongora.  A braai was arranged and was attended by the Cantles’, Bobby and Tammy Thompson,  and Charlie Ross who was the Senior Tsetse Field Officer  stationed at Makuti, 10 miles away.  Despite being in the middle of the rains it was a clear dry evening so we sat outside and listened to the multitude of night sounds that emanated from the surrounding hills.

When midnight approached, Charlie, who was a true Scotsman, surprisingly produced a set of bagpipes and offered to play Auld Lang Syne to welcome in the new year.  We decided to form a chain like a Conga dance and with Charlie in the lead, proceeded up and down the tracks in the camp.  It was a very unique way to bring in the new year but Harrys dogs did not entirely agree.  As soon as Charlie pumped up the pipes and started to play, the dogs let out almighty yells which disturbed the baboons in the nearby hills which in turn provoked a reaction from the odd leopard or two.

The cacophony that resulted is very hard to describe but we had to admit, it was one new years’ eve we would never forget.