Customs and beliefs of some African peoples – Part 3

In this the third and final part of this series we will discuss the relationship of the African man and his children, his home and labors, his manners and his environment.

Children

The African man and woman want children more than anything. In the  older, traditional, village environment when a couple is expecting their first child the wife usually returns home to be instructed by and cared for by her mother. The first child is often born at her father’s home.  After the birth the child’s father will be sent for and it may be a day or two before he can see his child over whom he assumes full parental control. He has both the rights of custody and guardianship over all the children of his marriage.

It does not really matter by whom the woman bears the children as long as she was lobola’d in which case the children always belong to the man who paid the lobola.  So, if a child is conceived in an act of adultery, it still belongs to her husband. The husband may, after accepting payment for “damages” by the lover, accept a customary payment and then relinquish his right to the lover.  After the child is old enough to leave its mother the natural father makes a further payment (for the rearing of his child) and then acquires full rights of custody and guardianship.

A man exercises his rights over his sons until they marry and set up their own homes. His daughters remain under his control until they are married and come under the care of their husbands. A child born as a result of his daughters’ seduction “belongs” to him and he has total discretion as to whether he will hold onto or relinquish custody to its natural father.

Though customary laws in Zimbabwe have always been strict with regard to parental rights, the courts of the country have laid down laws protecting the welfare of children. The welfare of the child is of primary importance when awarding custody. In the case of babies or toddlers who need a mother’s care, custody will often remain with her until they reach the age of about seven years.

The home and his labors

In the rural village, custom demands that there should be a clearly defined division of labor between the men and their women. The man only performs work considered worthy of his superior position in relation to his wife. The traditional woman would not expect her husband to do otherwise.

Throughout the 20^th century, as an economic necessity, many African men earned their living in domestic or other service jobs (such as housekeeping, hotel and restaurant waiters and gardeners) performing daily tasks which they would not dream of doing in their own home environment.

In her home, the African woman is responsible for all the chores connected with rearing her children and keeping her husband contented.  She has her own hut, like each of her husband’s other wives. When she dies, no other woman will ever live in it and it will be left to disintegrate. She shares in the building of the hut.  The husband carries the heavy poles from the surrounding “veld” and sets them up in a circle.  She plasters the walls and floors and carries the long thatching grass for her husband to tie to the frame of the conical roof.

The housewife is constantly busy in the village setting.  She stamps the grain and grinds the meal between two flat stones. She brews the beer, collects the firewood and water, and feeds and tends to the children.  She is responsible for keeping the family larder and sees to it that there is no waste of the food supply.  She also helps the husband cultivate the land. The man is primarily an agriculturalist, for he tills the land, with a plough if one is available. He takes on most of the heavy tasks, making the wooden handles for his tools, fashions the wooden pestle and mortar for his wife’s use, prepares animal skins and even weaves baskets. He is also the hunter, fashioning nets from fibrous tree bark, making snares or pits, and setting traps.

While the man has nothing to do with the village domestic tasks, the woman takes no part in the affairs of the state or tribe.  It is the man who attends the meetings and voices his opinion. The older he is and the greyer his beard, the more his opinion is likely to be respected.

Much of rural tribal life relies on the “nhimbi,” a social gathering attended by men and women from nearby villagers.  Men will squat on their haunches in a circle and pass around a foaming beer pot. Women gather nearby in the shade with their babies and laugh and gossip among themselves. Others will be working happily among the crops.  The onerous day to day tasks are therefore shared among many.  The nhimbi is an important social event.  The guest workers are paid for their hard work by hospitality and tomorrow the nhimbi may be held at their homes and they will benefit from the work on many hands and provide the beer and hospitality. When the crops have been harvested threshing parties will be held and this becomes an enjoyable event. Men and women will gather on the threshing floor and beat the grain from the husks with singing and frequent intervals for a thirst-quenching quaff of beer.

The man and his manners

African people are extremely respectful to others and are polite to a fault. But wherever we go in the world we will encounter local customs that we may think show bad manners when, in fact, manners differ from culture to culture. This is very evident in African society and the multiracial societies that are found in Africa.

When a European man is addressed by a superior or when someone he respects enters the room, he will rise and remain standing as a way to show his respect. An African man, on the other hand, considers it most respectful to squat down as soon as he is addressed by a senior. When entering a room he is being polite by sitting down without waiting for an invitation to do so.

The African, like Arabs and others who have existed in countries where there is barely enough water for survival, let alone for washing, regards his right hand as his “clean” hand.  He uses the right hand for conveying food to his mouth and his left hand for various unclean tasks and would not dare take food from a communal cooking pot with his left hand. Politeness demands that he use his clean hand when handing anything to someone else.  When he receives a gift, he will hold out both hands. No matter how small the item may be he is indicating to you that it so big, so heavy and so generous that it takes two hands to hold it.  To receive a gift with one hand as we do, belittles the gift and does not express gratitude.

If two people are talking the European would not walk between them, but the African will often do so as a way to show he intends no harm. It is very common to see a heavily laden African woman, with a bundle on her head, and perhaps a child or two in tow, walking behind a man who carries nothing but a stick or an axe. In the traditional culture, the man would be unable to protect his wife if he were encumbered with the luggage.

Those of us accustomed to the hectic, busy, western way of life tend to be very abrupt in our greetings and conversations. The traditional attitude of many Africans is far more patient and it is important to give lengthy, polite, greetings and light conversation before getting down to business. It is polite to tell a person what it is thought he wants to hear rather the blunt truth.  So, when asking directions of a rural African man, you may ask, “Is it far to the nearest river?” The answer may well be “No, it is not far.”  A few miles further when your thirst is becoming unbearable you will wonder why the man did not tell you the honest truth.  It is because he was showing his best manners in telling you what he thought you would like to hear.

The list of differences in manners between cultures can be very long. It is very important to understand these differences and to adapt to them. Patience and understanding have never been so important. During my 13 years living in Zimbabwe I gained an immense respect and admiration for the African people with whom I came into contact. These characteristics are still evident.  Even in the strife torn country that is Zimbabwe today, the men and women you meet in their society are almost always hospitable, friendly and welcoming. This is not just because their livelihood may depend on it; it is also because this is the most natural way for them to conduct themselves.

Customs and beliefs of some African peoples – Part 2

The Spirits

Africans living in Zimbabwe, as in most African countries, are powerfully influenced by their spiritual beliefs. They believe in God, or the Great Spirit who created and controls the heavens, the earth and the elements. He is called Mwari, or Umlimo and he is thought to have little concern with the affairs of particular tribes or of men. He has never been mortal. Of course there are many Africans today who have come to accept the Christian faith and who know that Mwari is deeply concerned with the lives of individual men and He is approachable through the Church.

It is Mwari’s sons who are thought to be almost as powerful and who “possess” the bodies of mediums through which they communicate with man. Many of these have the power to make rain. Some of their names are Chaminuka, Nehanda and Nyamuswa. When the powerful human medium (host) dies, the spirit may not choose another for a long period of time but it will “come out” later in another human who will be recognized as the temporal home of the spirit and who will be revered by others.  The power of these individuals to sway opinion and direct the affairs of vast numbers of people should not be underestimated.

Tribal spirits are all ancestral and of a lower order.  These are spirits of the first chiefs, who look after the interests of the tribes and punish their transgressions. Their relationship with the tribes is linked through the present day Chiefs, but they communicate through mediums (called swikiros). Hallowed as these swikiros may be, it is the family spirits which hold paramount importance in the traditional tribes-people’s lives. 

A family does not consist only of its living members. Departed male ancestors are still a part of the family and are concerned with the health and well being of those on earth. They watch over them and guard them unless they themselves are neglected and forgotten. The living therefore worship their ancestors and consult them in all important family matters. Some families will use the services of diviners, while some may have their own medium in the family through whom the spirits speaks. The medium may go into a trance and may not remember afterward what he said or did. 

There are many more aspects of the spiritual influences on traditional Africans.  Some spirits, such as the “shave” (sha-vee) might be the graveless wandering shade of a person who was not afforded customary rites on his death.  Another is the “Ngozi, or the spirit of a man or woman who died with a grievance and who might be seeking revenge.” These multiple spiritual influences are very powerful and even highly educated and “modern” Africans will defer to their relatives' beliefs in many aspects of their lives.

The Chiefs

The Chief is the most important man in his tribal area. His election to the chieftainship has the full support of his followers and their tribal spirits. He becomes the intermediary between the people and their ancestors seeing to the peoples’ welfare and maintains order. His role is spiritual, judicial and administrative. Selection of the chief differs for the Matabele and the Shona tribal groups.

The Matabele chief who passes away is replaced by his oldest son - a primogeniture system, similar to that of the succession, for example, of the English monarchy. This system may, quite possibly, result in the selection of a young king. In a warrior tribe, this system would give rise to a brave warrior chief who could lead the tribe in battle.

The Shona custom is a system of “collateral succession” which, in most cases, will provide an elderly man.  The Shona regard maturity as equal in value to bravery, and this system ensures that grey-haired rulers will assume the Chief’s role.

In the book referred to in Part 1 of this blog there is a good example of how this system works. Say Chief Goredema was the first chief of the nucleus of a tribe.  He has four sons by his first (senior) wife and the oldest is Mutsvago, then Marimba, then Ningi and finally Tsuru.  When Goredema dies, the chieftainship passes to Mutsvago.  When Mutsvago dies he is succeeded, not by his son, but by the oldest surviving male of the house of Marimba, then to Ningi and finally to the oldest surviving male member of the house of Tsuru.  When the houses of all four brothers have held the chieftainship, it passes back to the house of Mutsvago and the whole complicated process is repeated down through the generations.

As there were no written records before the early 1900s, and no birth records, this system would often result in many old men laying claim to the chieftainship. So how would this succession riddle be resolved? The spirit mediums would consult the old chief Goredema, who died many generations ago. He will tell the people who the rightful successor should be.

In Zimbabwe Africans can decide whether to have their grievances aired in the Government court system or whether to have their problems resolved in the tribal courts. Both verdicts are given legal recognition. Unlike government courts, tribal leaders are more likely to go out of their way to bring about reconciliation between the parties. Under the British system, as in the American system, a confessed murdered, for example, might be found not guilty due to a legal technicality. Tribesmen would consider this grossly unjust. It is worth noting that Africans in Zimbabwe can also choose to be married in the Christian faith, and having done so, they cannot then decide to return to the village and acquire other wives.

It is worth noting that since the earliest occupation of Zimbabwe by the British, the government has left the selection of Chiefs to the tribal members according to their age-old customs. Once an heir has been accepted then he is given recognition by the Government.

These days, the administrative responsibilities of Chiefs have grown enormously and include local government, community projects, establishment of business centers and rural schools and hospitals and so on. As one would expect, many of the Chiefs today are well-educated and more capable of dealing with these responsibilities than they might have been 50 or more years ago.

Marriage

The traditional African tribesman does not regard himself as an individual in the way that a European does, but rather as part of a greater whole. His continuing existence after death is achieved through having children. His oldest son will replace him and take his name and perhaps even having children with his wives, except for the son’s own mother.

The oldest surviving son is responsible for the debts his deceased father may have had, for the care of his family, and for maintaining the good will of his ancestral spirits. Continuing the life stream beyond death has given rise to the forms of marriage that have evolved over centuries.  When a couple marry, a very close relationship is established between their two families; much closer than is generally the case in a “western” marriage. The marriage contract is between families, not between the husband and wife as individuals. If the couple quarrels, their families may go to great lengths to prevent the union from dissolving.

There are several forms of traditional marriage, two of which have not been permitted for over a century. (One is the taking of a wife by a captor during a tribal war; and the other is pledging of a child for the payment of a debt.) The most common forms of customary marriage, recognized in law in Zimbabwe, involve the payment of “lobolo,” generally in cattle, by the groom’s family to the bride’s father. When a father accepts lobolo in respect of his daughter he undertakes to furnish the bridegroom’s family with the children who are so necessary for a continued existence.  In some tribes it may be the custom to withhold lobolo until the wife has proved herself by producing an infant.

After payment of lobolo, if the wife proves to be unable to bear children the husband has the right to claim a refund or another woman of his wife’s family, often a younger sister. If the husband proves to be sterile his brother may be called upon to father a child by his wife.

What happens to the lobolo that the father of the daughter receives? To ensure against the possibility of having no grandchildren, he may use this lobolo to purchase a wife for his son. In the past, and probably today, it was common to pair off his sons and daughters so that each son knows from which sister his own lobolo will come.

Lobolo serves in many ways as an insurance policy. It insures that children will be born to them to carry the family into the future. It helps assure a successful marriage by encouraging good conduct on the part of the husband, for it he ill-treats his wife she may leave him and he forfeits the right of any refund of the lobolo his family paid. On the other hand, the father is responsible for the good behavior of his daughter. If she is lazy, or a bad cook, of nags and scolds her husband, she may be sent back to her father to learn how to behave.

Polygamy is still practiced in Zimbabwe although many Africans enter into marriages solemnized in the Christian Faith. Even in these marriages however, lobolo will generally pass between families. The High Court of Rhodesia ruled that such payments are permissible in a Christian marriage as far back as 1912.

The death of a husband does not necessarily end the marriage for his widow.  She remains with his family and is later inherited by his brother or one of his sons. This is a custom similar to that illustrated in Chapter 25 verse 5 of Deuteronomy.

In Part 3 of this series we will discuss the relationship of the African man and his children, his home and labors, his manners and his environment.

Customs and beliefs of some African peoples – Part 1

Living in the USA or in any highly industrialized country, we are insulated from daily, or even occasional, contact with people of significantly different cultures. Americans, whether from the Deep South or upstate New York, and whether black, white, or Hispanic, share similar customs.  We often assume simply because we do certain things in our everyday lives, other human beings do them too – even if they are people of a completely different race and culture.

Growing up in South Africa from the age of 12, I was aware of many differences between the customs and cultures of white (or European) and black (African) people.  It was only when I moved to Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) in 1967 that I became much more aware of the differences. I left behind a country where the leaders tried very hard to keep the races separate.  “Apartheid” was in full gear in South Africa in those times. Everything was segregated.  There were many occupations that blacks were not permitted to perform.  For example, you never saw black truck or bus drivers. There were no black tellers in banks or in post offices. Separate “homelands” were designated for blacks and so opportunities for that race in the major cities were limited to menial or labor-intensive jobs.

The situation and status of blacks in Rhodesia was completely different.  During my first visit to that country in 1966 I was surprised to see blacks in just about every occupation. Front desk hotel staff, bank tellers, salesmen, and mid to upper management positions in government agencies were often filled by indigenous Africans. I joined a major packaging manufacturer in 1971 and worked with very talented staff in sales, production and accounting positions. Working with these guys over the years I got to know a little bit about their traditional cultures, how they had moved to a more “westernized” culture, and some of the problems this had created for them. As much as a man may have educated himself and moved away from the village to become integrated into the new economic and technological environment of “western” society, there was still a powerful commitment to the family and culture he left behind.

In a country like Zimbabwe, the significant cultural differences between races could easily lead to misunderstandings over the simplest everyday issues. As both races were dependent on each other, it was important to learn as much about one another as possible.  Much of the following narrative is taken from a book that I acquired in 1970 and which was very helpful to me in understanding the customs of the two predominant African tribes living in Zimbabwe. The book is titled “The Man - and His Ways.” It was distributed by the Rhodesian Ministry of Information, Immigration and Tourism. It was not intended to be a text book on the beliefs and customs of the African people, but it was recommended as a general introduction to describe the differences between rural African beliefs and those of white Rhodesians in the 1970s.    

There are two main African tribes in the country, the AmaNdebele and the Mashona. The Mashona probably arrived in the area about 1,000 years ago. Before the Mashona the country was widely, but sparsely, populated by the small statured Bushman who had not advanced beyond the Stone Age. The Bushman would, over time, be displaced westwards to the remote vastness of the Kalahari. In the 1830s the AmaNdebele, an offshoot of the warrior Zulu nation of southeastern South Africa (now KwaZulu-Natal) arrived in the south west of the country and began to ravage and plunder the numerous Mashona tribal groups which lived in disunity in the remainder of the country. All of these people had migrated from North Africa over a long period of time, for well over 1,000 years. Their long journey was dictated by the seasons, by tribal conflict, and by need. Land was abundant and there was no urge to preserve its abundant resources.

A tribe would settle in an area, build huts from readily available materials (poles and thatch) and cultivate small patches of crop such as millet. This, together with meat from the hunt, wild honey, fruits, roots and fish, formed the basis of their diet. This was entirely a “subsistence” economy. Storage was difficult so in years of good rains, there was abundance and nothing was kept against the likelihood of drought the next year. The future, in these circumstances, could look after itself.

Each member of the tribe was wholly dependent upon the fellow members of their tribe and family.  They were all surrounded by danger and had no means of protection, apart from that of the community. There was no room for individuality and the wealth of a tribe was measured in people and in cattle, with the strongest preying upon the weakest. Of course, over time, laws and customs became vital to regulating the affairs of the tribes and these would be applied by the tribal chiefs. These customs and laws were handed down by word of mouth, as the tribes had no form of writing.  Most of these customs were recognized in the courts of Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) after the late 1800s when the country was settled by westerners.

Even though there are two main African tribes in Zimbabwe, the numbers of different tribal groups within these two tribes are many, so it is easy to assume that the custom in one village will be similar in villages nearby.  There is considerable variation among customs although overall the fundamental beliefs will be the same throughout the country. For example the way that weddings are arranged will differ widely from village to village, whereas the practice of “lobolo” or bride price is concerned, this will fundamentally be the same everywhere.

Of course African law, and thinking, has been subjected to European influence for over 100 years. For example, many “modern” African people today will choose to be married in the church and will have one partner according to Christian beliefs.  Cash has replaced the hoe as a token and many other new ideas have been accepted.

Unlike Europeans, the more traditional African does not regard himself as an individual distinct from the rest of his tribal group.  He feels himself to be part of a unit, be it tribe or family and to that unit he owes certain obligations in exchange for which he derives many benefits.  His family, or tribal group, is extended to include the spirits of the departed and they have a great influence on his actions and his thinking. The solid foundation of any tribal group is the ordinary family.  The head of the family has certain responsibilities, the most importance being to maintain family unity. He can’t achieve this without consultation, so all matters affecting his small group are thoroughly discussed with the family, and his decision is a family affair based on a consensus of opinion.  In important matters, he consults the spirits of past members, and seeks their guidance.

During generations of struggle and survival the traditional African has acquired a passive fatalism.  Misfortune is often regarded as due to witchcraft or is an expression of displeasure by the spirits.  There was nothing a person could do to avoid it so he gave little or no thought to tomorrow.  He conserved his energies and blamed everything bad on something else. Even today, we might hear the excuse “I was failed by the examination” rather than “I failed!”

The African loves laughter.  His needs are few and simple and when they are satisfied he is inclined to sit back, for time, he believes, is given to everyone for nothing.  It has no value so why hurry to do today what can be postponed until tomorrow? Land and water have also been put here for his use, so they, like time, can be wasted.  Let tomorrow look after itself!

So how do the distinctly different beliefs of the African and the European merge in a third world country in which the future of each is so dependent on the other? Just as the rural, and traditional, African man must learn the customs of the European, so must the European learn the background of the African and treat him with respect, patience and courtesy.  Those whose missionary work exposed them directly to the most basic tribal beliefs were daily confronted by a need for patience. A mother who was diagnosed with a condition requiring a prescription for antibiotics, for example, would be instructed to take one daily for two weeks. Why not, she would reason, take them all at once? Surely that would be the most effective way to be cured.

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In Part 2 of this narrative I will write about the traditional African man, his spirits, his wives and children and his relationship to the land.

Introducing the Kruger National Park

I first visited South Africa's Kruger National Park (KNP) in 1958 at the age of 14. In the last 12 years Jan and I have visited several times.  Each trip has provided wildlife viewing above our expectations. We plan to return in July this year and so I thought I would introduce readers to this remarkable wildlife sanctuary now, because I will be posting frequent stories and photos while we are there.

Map of the KNP

Located in the northeast corner of South Africa, the KNP is one of the ten largest game reserves in the world. The tropic of Capricorn crosses the park. (see photo here) It was originally proclaimed as the Sabi Reserve in 1898 by the President of the Transvaal Republic, Paul Kruger.  Its original size was about 1,780 sq. miles.  An enlarged area was formally designated the Kruger National Park in 1926.  Now it covers an area of 7,600 square miles.  It is being merged with the Limpopo National Park in Mozambique and the Gona re Zhou Park in Zimbabwe to form the Greater Limpopo Transfrontier Park.  This remarkable initiative will result in a 13,500 sq. mile conservation area that will be one of the largest in the world.

Ultimately the goal is to create a fence-free park, allowing historic wildlife migration routes to be expanded, provide significant employment and income opportunities for rural people and greatly expand Eco-tourism potential in the region. 

The driving distance in the park, from Pafuri Gate in the north to Crocodile Bridge in the south is 250 miles.  

Animals in KNP have the right-of-way.

The uniqueness of  KNP is that one can self-drive and see an amazing variety of mammals, birds and reptiles. Although you can't drive off of the vast system of paved and graveled roads in the park the game-viewing is excellent.


Reasonably priced accommodations are offered, in the many fenced camps from camp-sites, RV parks, chalets, lodges etc.  There are several high end luxury lodges as well.  

Even the smallest species have right of way.

The South African National Parks excellent web pages http://www.sanparks.org/parks/kruger/ provide comprehensive information on trip  routes, accommodations, gas (petrol), restaurants, game viewing, weather and so on.

Marshall Eagle

The Park is unrivaled in the diversity of its life forms and a world leader in advanced environmental management techniques and policies. Truly the flagship of the South African national parks, Kruger is home to an impressive number of species: 336 trees, 49 fish, 34 amphibians, 114 reptiles, 507 birds and 147 mammals. 

Cape Buffalo near Punda Maria Camp in the north.

The KNP is easily accessible, of course, to most South Africans by a modern highway system and it is a favorite vacation destination during school holidays. When planning visits to South Africa it is always a good idea to Google 'SA School Calendar' and pick those periods when schools are not closed. 

I will write about some of the KNP rest camps we have visited and describe the private games reserve areas to the west of the park in upcoming blog posts.

If you have had experiences in the Kruger Park I welcome your comments and opinions.

 

Kariba

Most people who have never been to southern Africa are not aware that there is a very big lake on the Zambezi River called Lake Kariba. “Kariba” as the locals call it was, at the completion of its construction in 1960, the largest man-made lake in the world.  It is four times the size of the notable Three Gorges Dam in China.  From the small town built on the hills overlooking the dam wall, the lake stretches 140 miles (290km) to the southeast and is about 20 miles (32km) wide on average.

Map shows Lake Kariba - Zambia to the north, Zimbabwe to the  south

The massive project was undertaken to provide hydroelectric power for the growing industries of Zimbabwe and Zambia. Two power stations, one on the Zambian bank and the other on the Zimbabwean side are in full operation. Covering an area of 5,580 square kilometers (2,150 sq mi), its storage capacity is an immense 185 cubic kilometers (44.4 cu mi). The lake began to fill in 1958 and would become a year-round source of water for an abundance of animal and bird life, and a sunny playground for both local and foreign tourists. In places the lake is over 300 feet (90M) deep. A large commercial fishing industry developed here providing tons of sardine-like “kapenta” which provides a significant source of protein for a predominantly African clientele. There are huge populations of hippo and Nile crocodile in residence here and on the shorelines and major Game Reserves on the southern shore have incredible populations of wildlife.

The history of the construction of this engineering marvel, the story of the taming of the “River God” Nyaminyami, and the story of one of the most impressive wildlife rescue operations (Operation Noah) ever carried out in Africa, make for interesting reading. As the waters rose to flood the valley, over 5,000 animals were rescued, including 35 different mammal species and 44 black rhino. Frightened creatures ranging from elephant to snakes were captured for release into areas that now form Matusadona National Park and Chete Safari Area.

February 1970, two flood gates open

My first visit to Kariba was between Christmas 1966 and the New Year.  I was on a trip to “Rhodesia” from my home, at the time, in Grahamstown, South Africa where I was working at Rhodes University.  My friend Andrew Campbell-Watt who had been a fellow student at Rhodes, was living in Salisbury at the time.  He and I undertook a tour in my red Volkswagen Beetle and our first destination was Lake Kariba. It was love at first sight for me and after I moved to Rhodesia the following July, it would be the scene of a number of memorable experiences. 

One of the most striking things about the lake is its huge size. There are times when you are in a small boat that you lose sight of the shore completely and have to navigate by compass (or GPS today!). A ferry boat service runs from one end of the lake to the other and it is usually an overnight journey of 12 hours. To put its size in perspective, traveling from one end to the other would be a similar distance as driving from Colorado Springs to Cheyenne, Wyoming.

December is the middle of the hottest season of the year, and the Zambezi River Valley can be extremely hot and uncomfortable.  Cooling lake breezes offer relief from the heat. Viewing wildlife, particularly elephant from a boat, allows you to drift up close and the animals seem less threatened than when observed from the land.  In August 1971, when our infant son was just four months old, Joan and I flew with my brother John in a Cessna for a weekend visit to Bumi Hills Lodge in the Matusadona National Park on the south shore of the lake.  With us was my younger brother David who was 16 years old and visiting from South Africa during a school break.  Bumi Hills was later re-built as a much more modern (and expensive) hotel but at the time it was fairly rustic.  The only way to reach the hotel was by boat or by aircraft. Flying across the remote African bush from Salisbury (now Harare) and then being able to fly over the dam and above the massive dam wall in the gorge was pretty breathtaking. A few photos from that visit are shown here.

Approaching Bumi Hills from the air - August 1971.

The old Bumi Hills in 1971

A later visit to Lake Kariba came in July 1986. Joan had passed away in December 1985 and I took Alan (then 15), Graham (13) and Carol (12) back to Zimbabwe for a five week visit.  We stayed with their grandfather in Harare but old friends took us with them to the lake for a one week camping trip.  Jim and Jacquie Weller and their two sons, Nigel (then 16) and Phillip (14) had a motorboat which we packed with provisions and supplies.  We launched the boat from Andora Harbour at Kariba and made the 20 mile crossing to the Matusadona National Park twice to get everyone and all the supplies to the camping area at Tashinga. Typical of Zimbabwe National Parks, this camp ground, despite its remoteness, had very nice showers and ablutions.  We pitched our tents and cooked over wood fires on grills that were set up for that purpose. 

This was a memorable adventure for our family. Our camp was about 200 yards from the lake shore across a gently sloping area of open grass. During the days we would go out fishing and game viewing, usually returning in the late afternoon. Elephant and hippo could be seen most of the time and buffalo would graze across the open area near our tents.   One evening I remember we had asked the four boys to bring everything back from the boat when the sun had already set. After a while we heard this young voice calling, “Dad, there’s a buffalo standing on the path!  We can’t get back to camp.”
We answered with some sage advice, suggesting they be patient and wait until the buffalo moved on.  Ten or fifteen minutes later the boys got back safely. 

Late one night I heard a noise next to my tent (a pup tent for me) and picking up my torch (flashlight) I lifted the flap of the tent and came face to face with a huge Cape buffalo bull eating grass about ten feet away. He looked even more “huge” of course because I was lying on the ground and looking up at him.  Eventually he wandered away and peace was restored.
 

On a few occasions I had to take a commercial airline flight from Harare to Kariba and on one trip the pilot had to buzz the airfield to chase a herd of elephant away, before he could land safely. This was, evidently, a common occurrence.

One of my most memorable visits to Lake Kariba was in September 1978. A friend, Rudi Cassette, and I flew to Kariba on the afternoon of September 2nd. We spent much of the following day meeting with clients who were planning to construct a fish-canning plant near the town of Kariba. Rudi was our company Research & Development representative and we met with Lauris Zuchinni of Liebigs Foods.  Our discussions went well and ended after a lengthy tour of the proposed factory site and a light lunch at one of the local hotels. Lauris had planned to fly back to Salisbury later that afternoon on a regularly scheduled Air Rhodesia Vickers Viscount.  Rudi and I had scheduled to fly back to the city the next morning because that flight had been fully booked.
That evening we booked a “sunset cruise” and went out on the lake with a dozen other guests, sipped some wine and watched the orange sun sink into the lake. It was cool and calm and enjoyable and the surface of the lake was like glass. We were able to sail up close to several commercial fishing rigs and watched as they hauled up large nets full of glistening kapenta.  We returned to our hotel at Caribbea Bay, and retired for the night.  

The next morning we met at breakfast and became aware of much intense discussion at other tables. A phone call came for me from my boss in Harare.  He asked, “Have you heard what happened?” I, of course, had no idea what they were talking about.

My boss told me that the Air Rhodesia Flight 825, which had departed from Kariba the previous afternoon had been shot down by terrorists (called “guerillas” by the politically correct crowd) using a Strela 2 ground-to-air missile. This was a civilian flight and although some passengers survived, our friend and customer Lauris Zuchinni had been killed.  He was a friend and an extraordinarily talented engineer. The incident had been on the news the previous night but because we had gone out on the lake and then straight to bed when we returned, neither of us had heard anything about it.

We of course, quickly changed our plans and were able to rent a car and made the six hour drive back to the city in a convoy, escorted by armed vehicles manned by Police Reservists. I had originally scheduled our return to town on Flight 825 but waited too late to make the reservation.  You can read about the shooting down of Flight RH825 on Wikipedia and in other news accounts on Google.  Five months later, on February 12, 1979, another civilian aircraft (RH827) was struck by a similar missile en-route from Kariba to Salisbury, killing all 59 passengers.

Twenty-eight years after our 1971 flying visit to Bumi Hills, in August 1999, Jan and I returned to Zimbabwe and, together with old friends Barry and Hilary Blair and Jacquie Weller we shared the rental of a large boat (The Stormvogel) on the lake, spending five days exploring the shoreline and watching the huge numbers of game animals and birds that populate this magical place. While anchored in an inlet in the Matusadona area, we took two small dinghies across the bay and walked up the hill to the new Bumi Hills Lodge to have lunch.  Along the way we had to stand quietly and wait for a mother elephant and her calf to stroll across the road in front of us.  Then we watched a warthog digging for bulbs and roots in the manicured lawn of the hotel. 

At nearby Tashinga, a National Parks Wildlife station and camping area, we enjoyed walking with a group of young black rhinos.  These orphans had been saved from poachers and were being taking out each day to feed, attended by a game ranger. One morning, while we were having breakfast on the deck of the yacht we watched a huge crocodile glide slowly across the water below us. The previous night we had heard lions roaring in the distance.  Listening to the short-wave radio the next morning we learned that an 18 year-old British intern at a safari camp had been attacked and killed by a lame, and very hungry, lioness.  He was dragged from his tent shortly after turning in. This kind of tragic event is rare in African Safari camps, but it illustrates how wild and remote the wilderness areas around Kariba are.

So, Kariba holds a special place in over six decades of my memories.  Africa is not generally associated with tales of adventures on water.  But Kariba is a unique area and anyone who may ever have an opportunity to visit it should not pass it up.

Building a house

It is about two  months since my last blog. No excuses, except to say we have been very busy.  Our BookCrafters publishing business has been hectic but very rewarding and we have made progress in planning our South Africa tour which begins on July 13, 2012.  

Working on some old photographs, I came across a few that recall the purchase of our 1-1/3rd acre lot in the northern suburbs of Salisbury (now Harare, of course) and subsequently the construction of our modest home.  Joan and I were married in February 1969 and immediately flew off to spend several months in Paarl, in the expansive, and very beautiful, fruit-growing region of the Western Cape Province of South Africa. I had left my job as an entomologist and had joined the Rhodesian Food Corporation.  My new employer sent me off to spend four months on a training course, working at one of the largest canning plants, at the time, in the world - H. Jones & Company. 

I flew home for the wedding and then Joan and I returned to Paarl where I was working.  H.Jones & Co.  generously offered my new bride a temporary job in their accounting offices, where she was able to make friends and earn a modest stipend until she returned to Harare in late April.  We rented an apartment in downtown Paarl and though I worked long hours during the week, I was able to take Saturdays and Sundays off and we would explore the area all the way to Cape Town and down the Cape Peninsula.

Finally, I drove home in late May and took up my new position as Quality Controller at United Canners, a small canning plant in the little town of Rusape (now Lesapi) - about 80 miles southeast of Harare on the road to Umtali (now Mutare). We lived apart until the end of that year.  I drove home to our apartment each weekend while Joan had resumed her position as an entomologist with the Dept. of Research and Specialist Services in the Ministry of Agriculture. It wasn't an ideal beginning to married life, but our plans all along were to settle in the Harare area, when my jobs would permit it. 

It was during the June to December, 1969 time-frame that we looked around for a bit of land to purchase.  We found what we were looking for in the northern suburb of Vainona.  Those familiar with the area will better picture this suburb as the one directly west of Borrowdale. 

Planting our first tree in 1969.

The lot was, as I mentioned, 1-1/3rd acres.  It cost us just over (Rhod)$1,000.  I am not sure how that equated with the U.S. dollar at the time but it was probably about par. We put down $200 of our savings and paid $150 per month until we owned it free and clear about eight months later. My monthly salary in those days was about $550 per month - in case readers might assume that we were oozing wealth.  The land had no trees on it; it was triangular in shape with a narrow front boundary (about 80 ft) and a wide back fence line. It sloped very gently toward the front boundary which was to the north. We had a pretty clear idea from the first day about  where our house would eventually be located and we even sketched out plans of where the trees and shrubs would be planted. The property was on old farm land and the soil was a deep, rich, red loam.  We were to learn later that plants would grow like crazy.

During the whole year of 1970 we moved away and lived in Rusape.  I had rented a very nice, garden apartment (or "flat" as it was called) and we enjoyed out time in the small, but friendly town. The center of my life was the canning factory.  We came to know many of the rural farming community from whom we would purchase fruits and vegetables through the various growing seasons. Rusape was the gateway to the northeastern highlands of Rhodesia where there was an abundance of deciduous fruits grown, including pears, peaches, apples, apricots and so on. Through the late spring and winter months we would process peas, beans, tomatoes and many other varieties of vegetable products, soups and juices. But I digress. 

Joan was expecting our first son later that year and by January 1971, I had resigned from The Rhodesian Food Corporation and taken a position with The Metal Box Company of Central Africa, a very large British-based manufacturer of food cans and other metal packaging. We returned to live in Harare and began to turn our attention to building the house we had thought about and planned for for two years.

June,1971 - the foundation is in and our brick house is under construction.

Our son Alan arrived right on schedule in April and we hired a reputable home builder to begin work on our 3BR, 2 BA house with Living and dining area and kitchen. We decided to wait before building a garage.  As was customary we built "servant's quarters" on the property as well, wiring it for electricity, hot water, indoor toilet and other basic essentials. 

Almost to roof level in July.

The months of May through September in Zimbabwe are perfect for home construction projects. It is winter and it never rains.  Cold nights and dry, sunny, days kept the project right on schedule and the final coat of paint had been applied in August.

Near completion. Note the solar panels on the roof.

The weather in this part of Central Africa was, in fact, ideally suited for solar heating, and we had a solar water heater panel installed on the roof above the bedroom section of the house.  This saved us a great deal on monthly electricity bills for the next eight years!

To pay for our house we applied for a 20 year loan from the Central Africa Building Society.  The house cost us about $10,000 in 1971.  Several years later we would add a double garage, doubled the size of the servants house, and added on a larger bedroom at the end of the house.  We also added a small (25ft) swimming pool. We used the pool for seven months of the year.  The additions cost about $7,000 in 1976.

The house in 1973 with lawn established - no garage.

1975 - the bougainvillea grew prolifically

Our house at 4 Wye Turn, from the street, looking south.  The new bedroom on the far left was added in early 1976.

We built a pool in 1976 and this photo was taken from the roof of our house with our three kids enjoying a December swim. 

Owning a home is the dream of most young couples.  We were able to realize our dream and have a beautiful home that we designed and built and added to over the years while we lived in Rhodesia. 

In 1980, after the new government of Robert Mugabe came to power, we made the decision to leave Zimbabwe and find a new life in the United States.  American born, I had retained my US citizenship and that option to immigrate was open to us.  We couldn't see a clear, secure future for our children.  They were 9, 7 and 6 years old at the time.  To see them through college ten years down-the-road in that changing environment was, as we decided, too much of a risk to take. 

In June, 1980 we left Africa and moved to Littleton, Colorado. Strict foreign exchange restrictions allowed us to take only US$1,500 in cash each (for the two adults).  We rented a house and I took a position with a company in Littleton.  The kids started school and now 32 years later we can look back with few regrets.

Elephant Charges

I remember a very old joke from the 1960s rash of silly “elephant” jokes.  Question: What do you do when an elephant charges you? Answer: Put it on your American Express card. Or “what did Tarzan say to Jane when he saw the elephants coming?” “Here come the elephants.”

I have been asked many times whether I have ever been charged by an elephant.  The answer is yes, three times. All three episodes took place in the Gona-re-Zhou Game Reserve in southeastern Zimbabwe during the seven months I spent there in 1968.

The first time wasn’t especially exciting.  I was in my Land Rover, driving on a two-rut road across a very flat and open area when I come up with three bull elephants off to my right.  They weren’t too close but were walking parallel to the road about 100 yards away.  Suddenly, and without any provocation one of the bulls turned and began to run toward me.  I waited until he was about 50 yards away and was ready to accelerate away, when he raised his trunk and skidded to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dust. It was a “mock charge.” The bull trumpeted a few times, flapped his ears, kicked up some more dust, then lost interest, and turned to follow his two buddies. I was to learn later that a real serious charge could be recognized by an ears back, head down, full speed sprint towards the “threat,” which, in this instance, was me.  This fellow was just showing off.

The second charge was the scariest. As I have written before, the project I was working on involved rising very early and leaving camp by daylight.  We would carry out our 8 mile traverses and generally be done by the time it got really hot and return to camp by noon.  After a break for lunch, usually around 2:00 p.m., I would head out with my camp assistant Malvern Shumba to an area of the Mozambique countryside that we had not yet explored. I was using an old set of aerial photographs and some very outdated Mozambique maps to try and pinpoint target areas where the tsetse fly population would tend to be high. I was particularly looking for waterholes where elephant would always congregate. Because of the less than ideal conditions when the aerial photos had been taken, much of this area had been under cloud; so many waterholes had been obscured. During the many months I spent in this region of the country I was also compiling a record of the elephant I was seeing, mapping their locations, direction of movement and size and composition of their herds.

Malvern was a tall, lean young African man with a friendly demeanor and an urge to learn. He had a bright set of perfect, white, teeth when he smiled.  17 Years old when I met him, he had a 10^th grade education at a government school near the village where he had been born, close to the tiny rail siding and border post named Malvernia -  for which he had been given his Christian name.  He was particularly proud of his family name “shumba,” which means “lion.”  Malvern’s English was excellent and because he had been born near the Mozambique border he was very helpful in translating the local dialect. Malvern impressed me with his fluency in both written and spoken English.  When I would leave at the end of the month to return to Salisbury (now Harare) for five days, he would present me with a list of four or five books that he always “hoped” I could bring him. Many were school text books. Apart from being good company, he also was very skilled in finding his way back to the Land Rover when the day was cloudy and the sun wasn’t where it should have been in the sky.  On several occasions I know that, without Malvern Shumba along with me, I would still be wandering aimlessly through the Mozambique countryside while the sky overhead would be filled with vultures.

On one overcast and very windy afternoon we came across fresh elephant tracks (spoor) crossing the road.  We pulled off and began to follow them.  It seemed to be a small herd of 10 – 15 elephant, moving slowly through a stand of mopani trees and shrubs.  The thick, dark green, foliage made it hard to see more than a short distance of maybe 20 to 30 yards ahead of us. To make things worse, the brisk wind rustling the leaves made it difficult to detect any sounds of the big animals’ movements. As was my habit I carried a .375 magnum rifle strapped to my shoulder.  Up until now I had never had to use it in self defense. 

An elephant in thick Mopani shrub, Mozambique

After we had covered perhaps two miles Malvern saw the back of one of the elephants through the trees, so we were pretty close. The wind was in our faces and the ground was soft sand, so I rashly thought that the elephant had neither caught our scent nor heard us. Very unexpectedly we heard a crashing of branches and saw the top of an elephant coming at high speed directly towards us.  I forgot to mention that Malvern Shumba could really run.  I began to sprint after him as I caught a glimpse of the elephant’s head bobbing up and down as she charged.  As I ran I swung the rifle off of my shoulder and began to hope for an open space where I might have one clean shot at our pursuer or at least fire a shot into the air to scare her off.  Not too many seconds later (time really flies when you’re having fun) I slowed and turned to face her but she had stopped.  I can only think that she must have had a calf, as mother elephants will rarely distance themselves from their calves.  Her work done, she must have returned to her family group feeling somewhat proud of herself. Two very relieved but winded tsetse control employees returned to their vehicle with their tails between their legs.

The third incident was probably the most dangerous but also the most amusing, if you can look back on a scary situation and joke about it.  The top man in the Tsetse Control division had come to our border camp to have a look at progress and see the area first hand.  Desmond Lovemore was an exceptionally talented biologist and administrator and had earned his reputation through a dozen years of hard work and achievement.  He had arrived in his Land Rover station wagon to spend a few days “in the field.”  On his way through Chipinda Pools, the local Tsetse Control field headquarters, he had picked up the local man-in-charge, Jim Pasqual. Mr. Lovemore wanted to take a drive through an area to the south of our camp that we had not visited. On the map there were three rivers indicated, named respectively Number 1, Number 2 and Number 3 Rivers.  After breakfast five of us got into the Land Rover. Along for the ride was one of the South Africans working with us, Alex Kritzinger, me, my immediate boss, Alec Robertson, Jim Pasqual, and Desmond Lovemore. Thinking back now, it is amazing that I have recalled each of the names but I suspect it is partly a result of the unusual incident that we all shared for several minutes 53 years ago.

Road along the Rhodesia-Mozambique border, May 1968

We followed the border fence (Rhodesia/Mozambique) southwest from our camp for about 20 miles until we came to Number 1 River.  It was a river on the map but in reality it was a dry river course that would only hold water after heavy rains.  I was sitting in the back seat on the right side behind the driver.  Next to me was Alex Kritzinger and behind him in a little side seat right at the back was Jim Pasqual, the smallest of the group.  He was also the most easily prone to hysteria. (My personal assessment.)  We were driving slowly over smooth sandy ground following very faint vehicle tracks.  To our left we could see a sparse tree line, where the river would undoubtedly flow if, or when, it might rain. The trees were dry and leafless, as this was during August, mid way through the winter dry season. 

We were talking among ourselves and not paying too much attention to what seemed a pretty unexceptional and featureless landscape.  Quite suddenly we saw an elephant cow coming out of the trees to our left and heading directly toward us. It was all the more unexpected because it was the first elephant we had seen that day and usually females do not leave their herd groups. She was a fairly young cow, probably eight to ten years old.  She was running at full speed with her ears flattened against her sides and her head down. Mr. Lovemore accelerated and the cow tried to adjust to our movement as she came to a slight rise coming up out of the river bed.  The change in direction and the slight rise caused her to stumble and she went down to her knees in a cloud of dust directly behind us.  We all let out a collective sigh of relief, thinking that was the end of it.  But to our amazement, she clambered to her feet and came after us again. Before we fully realized it she was pulling up right behind the vehicle continuing her hot pursuit.  I looked back as she came to within a few feet of the back window of the station wagon, her head bobbing up and down at a furious rate. By now we must have reached at least 30 miles per hour and she seemed to be keeping up!

I turned quickly to look ahead and felt a sinking feeling when I saw a large dead tree had fallen across the track. From a distance the faint tracks in the sand seemed to go right under the tree.  I turned back to see the cow’s progress begin to slow, as she lost ground.  At the last minute, the tracks led us off to the right of the tree and we were able to cruise around the obstruction without losing speed.  All this time, Jim Pasqual, from his little seat in the back of the vehicle was repeating, hysterically, “he’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming.”  As quickly as it had begun, the threat was gone.  For a long time afterwards we tried to speculate why a lone female elephant would have charged a moving vehicle, for such a great distance, and with such incredible persistence.  It may have been that she had been wounded by a poacher or that the sound of a car engine was associated with some traumatic event in her life.

All of the people that I was with that day were far more experienced in animal behavior, particularly elephant behavior, than I was at the time. I was fortunate that this wasn’t something that had happened to me on one of those frequent occasions when I was alone.   It would have been a tough story for anyone to believe. This episode reinforced the adage that animals in the wild can be, at times, completely unpredictable and that elephants really can move at speeds up to 25 mph (40km/hour)!