Chirundu Tales - Part 1

CHIRUNDU TALES- PART 1

In early 1964, after a spell in the commercial world, I decided it was time for a change so I embarked on a quest to find employment that better suited my love for the outdoors.  At that time an organization called the Agricultural Research Council of Central Africa, (ARCCA) had several projects working on the eradication of the dreaded Tsetse Fly. I had never heard of them but a friend of mine who had been working on fly control for the government suggested I give them a try. They were not advertising for staff so I decided to present myself at their head office in Salisbury and try my luck.

To cut a long story short, a week later I was kitted out with a Land Rover, a complete set of camping gear and sent off to Chirundu in the Zambezi Valley to open up a new facility that was a joint venture between ARCCA and the US Department of Agriculture (USDA), and funded by the US Agency for International Development (USAID).

Accompanied by my faithful cook Peter I went first to Kariba for a few days orientation at an ARCCA station before entering the valley. I paid a courtesy call on the Wildlife Department office at the Marongora camp and was made to feel very welcome by the Area Warden, Boyd Reese.  He was aware of the ARCCA proposed project and provided me with a map showing the area we had been allocated. He also gave me instructions on how best to get there. I was a very happy individual driving down the escarpment and into the valley that afternoon.

We turned off the main tar road onto what was known as the Menza Pan road, about 10 miles South of the Chirundu border post.  About a mile in we came upon the pan that gave the road its name. As we approached we spotted a lone buffalo bull a short distance away in the mopani forest.  He soon turned and disappeared into the sticks.  Peter and I walked in to have a closer look at the pan and saw evidence of a lot of game activity including elephant and as we were walking back to the truck Peter tapped me on the shoulder and pointed up a nearby tree.  There, wedged in a fork, about 8-10 feet above the ground were the remnants of an impala, obviously a leopard kill.  I thought WOW! we really are in big game territory.  I was also conscious of the fact that I was not carrying a rifle. I had applied for a permit for one but approval had not come through before I left Salisbury. Ironically we did not see another animal before we arrived at the river, a distance of about 15 miles.

We set up camp under two shady trees but it was not very comfortable as the area was covered in dried up hippo tracks. As it was getting late in the day I decided to put up with it and seek a better site the next day.   It turned out that we had in fact chosen a very nice site and once the hippo tracks were leveled out we had the perfect spot for a small permanent cottage, shaded by a huge Tamarind tree on one side and an evergreen Acacia on the other.

I was able to recruit some African workers through the Personnel Department at the Chirundu Sugar Estate, about 10 miles away.  The estate had a general dealers store and a small butchery as well was a Post Office and several deliveries each week from trucks run by the Rhodesia Railways Road Motor Service (RMS).  This was a big plus for us.  We were also able to purchase various items of material such as vehicle parts, pipe fittings, steel and timber, to name but a few, from their stores section.  They also had an airstrip which was very useful once our directors and scientists started to visit the site on day trips.

On the social side Chirundu Estates also had a club with a snooker table, tennis court and swimming pool as well as movies twice a week. They also had a well stocked bar and plenty of refrigeration!  I seldom went to a film as it was a rough ride getting there and back but have to admit to enjoying the odd game of snooker and a dip in the pool.   Estate staff were a friendly crew and as a lot of them were fishermen, would often call in at the camp for a chat and a brew.

I had numerous other visitors such as police who patrolled on foot and launch and with increasing regularity, the military.  One day a small convoy arrived with several officers sporting lots of pips and crowns.  They stopped for a chat and I invited them for a cup of tea or a beer, whichever they liked. It was a hot day so it came as no surprise when they chose the latter!  As there were about 4or 5 of them my meager stock of beer took a bit of a hammering but what I did not know was that a full case of beer had been put in my kitchen. I came out well ahead on the day.

Actually about a year later, I was at Inkomo doing my annual territorial training when a Jeep drove up beside the vehicle I was driving and out got one of the officers I had entertained that day.  He asked me the usual questions about the training etc. and then asked me what I did for a living. When I told him he said “Are you that crazy B******# living alone on the banks of the Zambezi?”  He turned out to be Brigadier Keith Costa the army Chief of Staff.  He again thanked me for the cold beers they had enjoyed that day but I told him I ended up with the better deal. I also told him that I was no longer alone as I had since got married.

The first few months were really hard work as we erected a variety of buildings, cattle kraals and handling facilities, insectaries, a lab and office block, workshops and storerooms etc. as well as staff housing which was a priority.  We erected prefab houses in order to save time and then built permanent structures.  We fenced 1800 of the 3,000 acres we were allocated into paddocks for the experimental cattle and sheep we introduced.  The idea was to let the animals graze freely during the day and return them to a lion proof kraal at night.  The idea was OK but the elephants had other ideas and despite culling six of them who set up home on the station, we had to give in. Our fences were in tatters so we were forced to herd the animals. The cull caused another problem!  The tribesmen across the river in Zambia heard the shots fired and after a brief shouted exchange with some of our workers, they launched an armada of dugouts and came across to enjoy the spoils.  There was nothing I could do to stop them so I got on with my work.  Around lunchtime, I heard a boat approaching which turned out to be the police patrol boat containing Carl Maskell the officer i/c at Chirundu and the Chief Immigration Officer.  Both were seething mad.  Somehow they got to hear about the cull and read me a list of rules that had been broken.  In my own defence, I asked them what I, as an individual, could do to stop about 200 protein starved tribesmen.  They calmed down a bit and finally agreed to let the incident run its course. They made a token gesture by leaving a constable at the cull site to stop anyone wanting to slip further in to the country.  It was a bit of a joke as the tribesmen could cross the river any time they liked. In 24 hours there was nothing but a few bones left.