Africa facts and reality

The continent of Africa is three times the size of the United States (all 50 states).  There are 56 countries in Africa.

What sets Africa apart from all other continents? Because Africa straddles the tropical latitudes, there is no severe winter as experienced in Northern Europe, Asia or North America.  This is referred to as the “winter-gap.”

Of all the major land masses or continents, Africa has been the least subject to major earthquakes, tremors, typhoons, hurricanes and other forms of devastation.

It is one of the ironies of European penetration of Africa that it was not the wild and gigantic beasts of eastern and southern Africa which frightened Europeans away; it was in fact the tiny insects of the west coast and central Africa which made Europeans nervous.  “Not by the roar of the lion but by the buzz of the mosquito were the fears of the white man aroused.” (quote from "The Africans - A Triple Heritage" by Ali A. Mazrui, BBC Publications, 1986)

The Sahara Desert is almost the size of the United States.  Only 15% of the Sahara Desert is covered with sand dunes.

From 5,000 to 7,500 years ago Africa’s Sahara Desert was lush and green with plentiful wildlife and a great network of trade routes linking the Mediterranean coast with that of West Africa.  From about 4,000 years ago (2,000 B.C.) the climate began to change and the Sahara was transformed to what it is today.

The SAHEL is the southern edge of the Sahara Desert. “Sahel” is derived from an Arabic word meaning “shore.”  The Sahel is defined by annual rainfall – an average of 8 inches in the north to 24-28 inches in the south.  It is prone to frequent  and prolonged periods of drought.  It is across this narrow band of the continent that destructive locust swarms periodically destroy the inhabitant’s already meager crops.

The Sahel Region of Africa

For many centuries, Arab traders and nomads have crossed the Sahara Desert by camel and on horseback to expand the word of Islam.  Why did their influence stop at the Sahel?  Why didn’t the early western explorers find camels, horses, and Arab traders among the cultures and tribes of central, eastern and southern Africa.

There are two main reasons. . . .

1. The mosquito and the mosquito-borne disease malaria, and

2. The tsetse fly and the diseases it transmits to humans      

    (Sleeping  Sickness) and livestock (Nagana).

Malaria is very prevalent in regions which have significant amounts of rainfall and consistent hot temperatures.  These warm, consistent temperatures and moisture provide mosquitoes with the environment they need to breed continuously.  The malaria parasite is injected into the blood stream by the bite of the Anopheles mosquito and multiplies within the red blood cells.   After an incubation of 7-14 days there will be loss of energy, headache, muscle pains and vomiting.  The individual will have cold and shivers, then high fever and sweating.  Untreated, malaria carries a significant mortality.  A traveler can avoid malaria by taking anti-malaria drugs, such as Malarone.  Mosquitos are active in the evening so long sleeves, insect repellent and mosquito netting are good precautions.

The Tsetse Fly is the root of Africa’s poverty.  No other region of the world suffers the same animal health problems as the tsetse fly imposes on Africa.

Tsetse fly infested areas of Africa

Sleeping Sickness and Nagana are diseases transmitted by the Tsetse Fly.  According to the deputy director-general of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) "It is no accident that the concentration of much of the world's most acute poverty is in regions of sub-Saharan Africa infested with tsetse." Some experts say that Trypanosomiasis (the pathogen that causes sleeping sickness and nagana) helps create African "green deserts" -- 10 million square kilometers of otherwise lush and fertile land that is not in production because of the tsetse fly. This includes land in 32 of the world's poorest countries. 

The presence of the disease, Nagana, which is deadly to most cattle, prevents rural villagers from using cattle or horses as draft animals which could improve their agricultural productivity by 25 to 45%. "Allowing more African farmers to own livestock would have a profound impact on hunger and poverty in the continent, but that cannot be achieved without the elimination of the tsetse fly." Native breeds of cattle (Zebu) are only somewhat resistant to Nagana.  Cross-bred cattle whose milk production is NINE times the native breeds, cannot survive in tsetse fly areas.

Ironically, it is the presence of the tsetse fly (and the diseases that it carries) across great tracts of Africa that protected land from over-development during the last century of European settlement and expansion.  This enabled both the colonial rulers and subsequently the governments of independent states to develop their wildlife resources by establishing National Parks and Wildlife Management areas. The Game Reserves of Kenya, Tanzania, South Africa, Zimbabwe and Botswana almost certainly would not have been set aside for the conservation of wildlife had they been of economic value for ranching and crop production.

The tsetse fly thrives in an environment where there are large populations of wildlife providing an unlimited and year-round supply of essential mammalian blood on which they must feed to survive and reproduce.      

     

In 1996, the IAEA assisted in the development of a technique of sterilizing the male tsetse fly using radiation. Large numbers of sterilized males are released into the countryside.  The female fly only mates once in her lifetime, and so the larvae that she lays once every week to ten days does not live. In a trial conducted on the isolated island of Zanzibar, off of the East African coast, the tsetse fly population was eradicated and farming productivity rose dramatically in the years following this trial.  The use of this technique on the African mainland holds hope for similar results, but campaigns would require large financial and human resources, and close cooperation across borders and government jurisdictions to achieve long-term success. 

Additional information from WHO (World Health Organization) and CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention):

Nearly 45,000 cases of sleeping sickness were reported in Africa in 1999.  After continued control efforts, the number of cases reported in 2009 has dropped below 10,000 for the first time in 50 years.

There are two subspecies of the parasite Trypanosoma brucei that cause infection.

(1) T. brucei gambiense is found in west and central Africa.  This form currently accounts for over 95% of reported cases of sleeping sickness.

(2) T. brucei rhodesiense is found in Eastern and Southern Africa and represents under 5% of reported cases.

Tsetse flies bite during daylight hours.  They are attracted to bright, dark colors.  Permethrin impregnated clothing and use of DEET repellent may reduce the number of fly bites.

Early bite swellings are usually an allergic reaction and not a sign of sleeping sickness infection. Tanzania is reporting fewer than 100 new cases per year, mostly among rural farmers in central Tanzania.

For reasons that are unexplained, there are many regions where tsetse flies are found, but sleeping sickness is not. Infection of international travelers occurs but is extremely rare.  On average, a single case per year is reported among U.S. travelers to all areas of Africa.

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)!

Snakes in Africa

There seems to be a sense among most people who have never been to Africa that it is heavily populated with snakes.  In my 25 years on that continent I rarely saw a snake, although I learned a little about them as a Zoology student.  I’ve never had too much interest in snakes but I have never been particularly afraid of them either.  During 1997, in the Gona-re-Zhou Game Reserve in southeastern Rhodesia, not far from the Mozambique border, one of the Senior Tsetse Field Officers with whom I worked, came across an eight foot long python that had swallowed a small impala. It was a comical event in several respects. 

First, the unfortunate man was an energetic, very highly respected, African man of very small stature, standing about 5ft. 4in. tall, with a slight frame to match his limited height.  Despite his small size he was an excellent supervisor by virtue of a strong will, terrific leadership qualities and a wonderful sense of humor (humour).  He was leading a group of men in single file along a dirt path across a flat, sparsely vegetated, area of low mopani shrubs. It was July, in the dry season, when most of the leaves had fallen, so he would have easily seen the python had he not been talking and frequently turning to look back at his companions. In other words he wasn’t paying attention.

Second, most Africans have an innate and terrible fear of snakes of any kind, especially those that are bigger than they are. Encounters with even the smallest snake, chameleon or lizard snakes become the topic of conversation for weeks afterward.  Steven happened to look down as he was about to step on the python and suddenly launched himself into space, clearing the animal by about four feet. The other men scattered and only regrouped when they realized that the snake was almost completely immobilized by the large meal it had consumed and which was slowly being digested in its stomach. Most of the serpent was about six inches thick except for the great two-foot long bulge in its mid-section that was about 12 inches in diameter.

An 8 ft. Python photographed in Tanzania in 2005.

Over the following weeks the story of Steven’s great leap over the Python was embellished and exaggerated out of all reasonable proportions, always accompanied by raucous laughter and banter. I saw the snake about half an hour after the incident while it still lay where it was discovered, rendered completely harmless by its excessive appetite.

One of the most venomous snakes in Africa is the Black Mamba. A mature specimen can grow up to 12 – 14 feet long and they slither through the bush at great speed. Fortunately they are shy and tend to avoid confrontation.  A Black Mamba bite, before the development of antivenin, always resulted in death to a human in as little as 20 minutes. Its venom is both a potent neuro-toxin and cardio-toxin, making it doubly lethal.  I have seen a fully grown male Eland, weighing over 1,500 lbs, killed by the bite of a Black Mamba which it must of encountered by accident. 

Black Mamba - National Geographic photo

My only encounter with a Black Mamba brought us literally face-to-face.  I was working on a Tsetse Control assignment in Mozambique and one hot afternoon I was alone in my Land Rover and driving along a relatively smooth track, through an area of open bush, probably at a speed of about 20 mph. It was in late September when the days were almost always hot and sunny and the air was dry, so I had removed the metal cab and window frames from my vehicle and lowered the front windshield to benefit from the breeze. I had also removed the metal doors on both sides of the cab.

As I glided through the  bush (or “veld”) enjoying the cool breeze on my face, suddenly and very unexpectedly I looked to my right and saw a large Black Mamba approaching rapidly, with his head just about level with mine. Before I had time to react I passed in front of him, and at that moment he reacted by rearing back to avoid me and spreading his cobra-like neck flaps.  I reacted by hitting the accelerator and gripping the steering wheel.  Its head was about three feet from my face for an instant, and it was one of those moments in my life when I felt completely and utterly helpless. We passed one another so quickly that, had he had the time or intention of striking, he almost certainly would have missed me, so I can’t honestly say that I narrowly avoided death in the wilds of Africa on this occasion. 

In that one second I saw him up close and then he was gone, lost in the dust cloud my vehicle was creating behind me. I stopped some distance down the trail and looked for a while but he was long gone. There is a common seed pod of an African acacia tree that is 12 – 18 inches long, flat and dark in colour. (I can’t recall the exact species.) As it dries in the sun, it curls up, and on a windy day it rolls along the ground with a rapid spiral movement.  For a long time after my close-up meeting with Mr. Mamba, one of those seed pods would blow across the ground in front of me and, catching that movement out of the corner of my eye, I would cringe – imagining it was a snake.

Photo credits - The photo of a Black Mamba was downloaded from the National Geographic website and was taken by George Grall.  I took the Python photo while in Katavi National Park in Tanzania in September 2005.

For information about the Black mamba go to: http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/reptiles/black-mamba/

Animal Encounters - First Elephant

As a Field Entomologist in Tsetse Control in Rhodesia (1967-68), much of my time was spent in pretty remote areas of “the bush.”  I would write to my parents, who were living in South Africa at the time and describe my employment as “working in a zoo,” only there were no cages. I had a camera with me, but took far too few photographs.  I also always had a rifle with me.  Occasionally I could provide a little fresh meat for our camp and only once did I almost have to use my .375 magnum to protect myself.

During the height of the rainy season, from December through March, movement in many back-country areas was limited by wet and often impassable roads. The weather from April through October was about as predictable as weather could be, sunny dry days, cool clear nights.

As anyone who has been “on safari” in Africa can testify, when around wildlife there is always an unexpected event or sighting around the next bend in the road.  It may not occur for many, many, hours, or even days, but it always leaves an indelible memory.  Just as you begin to wonder where the game is, it pops up to excite and amaze you. This was certainly my experience as a young, enthusiastic lover of all wild places and animals, suddenly finding myself in a professional situation that few have an opportunity to experience in their lives. Growing up through my teen years, I was able to join my dad on occasional hunts for small game. These were always enjoyable and taught me solid lessons, but I have never been, nor would I ever describe myself as a “hunter.” The main lessons I learned were how to shoot well and how to treat a firearm with great respect.

Being in Tsetse Control did not give anyone a license or permission to hunt.  We were able to shoot only in clearly designated areas and under strict guidelines. There was never an attempt to take on the role of the professional game rangers and wardens of the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Management.

One of the most memorable days of my life was the first time I saw elephant in the wild.  I had seen them many times in game reserves, from behind a fence or from the safety of a car but never while on foot.   I had spent several weeks on a spraying operation in a remote area on the southern edge of the Zambezi Escarpment due south of Lake Kariba.  These operations were conducted for 25 consecutive days, beginning on the first day of each month.  Everyone would go for “R & R” from the 25^th to the 31^st to make up for the weekends that we had worked. Field Officers would return to Salisbury (now Harare) for a well deserved break, and to re-provision for the following month. The laborers; most recruited from local villages, would return home to their families and their chores.

Elephant footprints (spoor) in sand

On this occasion, in August 1967, my boss Bill Casey had arranged to take me to a Tsetse Research station called Reckomechi.  I rendezvoused with Bill in the small town of Makuti and left my Land Rover at the local Government depot while we continued in his vehicle.  From Makuti, the two-lane paved highway descends almost immediately into the Zambezi Valley in long sweeping curves through dense bush.  The valley floor is flat and the most noticeable change in vegetation is the increased number of baobab trees; those huge grey hulks that seem as though they have been thrust into the earth upside down.  As the highway flattens out to cross the valley floor north to the Zambezi River and the Zambian border post called Beit Bridge, we turned right onto a dusty road heading east toward Mana Pools, the renowned Game Reserve.

The dirt road is straight, except for a few times when its geometrically perfect bearing was impeded by an old baobab tree; then it would bend just enough to skirt the obstruction.  After about 30 miles on this hot, dusty road we passed the turn to Mana Pools and soon arrived at Reckomtjie, a loose assemblage of metal prefab buildings which served as labs, offices and accommodations.  We met the Tsetse Officer in charge and his wife and as the late afternoon shadows began to lengthen, Bill Casey suggested we take a walk to the nearby Reckomtjie River.  So, we made our way through the small vegetable garden at the back of the house and followed a narrow path descending into the river.  The river, as is typical in this area, was lined on either side by huge, old hardwood trees, teak, ebony and ironwood.  The wide sandy river bed appeared completely dry although from the holes that had been dug by elephant, there was obviously water not too far below the surface. We reach the bed of the river and crossed a narrow sandy area before climbing up onto a large earth mound, about 10-12 feet high, fortified by a number of large trees. It was literally an island in the dry river bed which was about 40 yards wide at this point.

Looking directly north, the sand ran straight into the shade of overhanging trees, as though disappearing into a tunnel.  Behind us, to the south, the river bed ran up against a vertical red earthen cliff as it turned to the left and began its ascent into the distant hills. I could imagine how it might be during the rains, when thunderstorms would build over the higher country and the rushing torrents would spill into the valley along this dry sandy highway.  Bill and I sat down on top of our “island” and enjoyed the peace and quiet for a few minutes.  Before long we saw the grey, ambling hulks of a herd of elephant begin to appear out of the shadows to the north.  They were walking purposefully, in single file, with an old matriarch in the lead. As they got closer, we could see there were perhaps twenty animals in the group, mostly females, with several calves and a few immature males.  It reminded me of the tame elephants I had seen as a young boy at Ringling Brothers Circus, when the elephants would enter the big top and walk around the ring holding each other by the tail.

Now of course they smelled us and the column slowed briefly. Then they separated into two lines, with one row passing on our left and the other to our right.  From our small hilltop, we could almost have reached out and touched them. As they passed, we were close enough for them to see us, and a few lifted their trunks to test the air.  I realized that, in the excitement of the moment, I had been holding my breath.  I also remember how quietly these huge, gentle animals were moving.  As the last one passed, we turned to watch them continue up-river and soon disappear around the bend below the cliffs.

This herd had come out of the vast Mana Pools Game Reserve and, had probably not been poached or hunted.  This explained their acceptance of the smell of humans and the fact that, despite the presence of young in their herd, we were not perceived as a threat.  In the near future I would encounter elephant in other parts of the country and in different circumstances where the smell of humans would throw them into a panic. The following morning, I walked up-river from this spot and saw where the herd had excavated holes in the riverbed and exposed pools of water.  During this time of the year, when rain would not come for many more months, elephants provide a source of water for many other wildlife species by digging into the dry river beds. 

Water revealed by elephant in a dry river bed.

It’s 44 years later and I still have the sharpest memories of that late afternoon in the Reckometjie River.  That was the moment when I began a love affair with elephants and started to develop an understanding of just how remarkably intelligent and gentle they are.  

Next - encounter with a Cape Buffalo, and then a black mamba and an eland.

Tsetse - the silent destroyer

If you haven't read my previous post (July 17) then stop and go back.  

When I became a "tsetse fly controller," or Glossinologist, in 1967 I had only a rudimentary understanding of the insect and little appreciation of the total control this fly had on huge areas of the African continent.  In Rhodesia, as in so many developing countries, there was an unrelenting need for more land where the rapidly growing rural population could establish their rudimentary houses, grow crops and raise livestock. 

Wherever the tsetse fly occurred, rearing cattle, both as a source of meat and milk and as draft animals, was not possible without expensive prophylactic drugs administered every 30 days.  Almost 25% of otherwise fertile land in the country could only be farmed with hand tools, making it subsistence living or worse. The government had, over the years after WWII, put ever-increasing financial and manpower resources into finding ways of pushing the tsetse fly away from suitable areas planned for settlement.  Most of these efforts were restricted to the dry months of the year, generally from May through September; or, if the rains came late, the month of October could be included in that calendar.  The rains, from October through April, and sometimes May, were a huge impediment to field operations against the tsetse fly in Rhodesia.

The unique biology and behavior of the tsetse fly made it vulnerable to two primary control methods.

First:  it is very susceptible to insecticide.  It also tends to rest on the bark of trees along drainage areas which provide it with shade and sandy soil where it lays its already developing pupa.  These areas are where water sources for wildlife can be found and where wildlife tends to find shelter in the heat of the day.  The careful, targeted, application of insecticide to specific tree species could significantly reduce the populations of the fly.  It was possible to pinpoint these drainage areas by using aerial photographs. The targeted applications of insecticide also mitigated to a large degree the dangers of the widespread use of toxic chemicals on many other species of birds, insects and mammals.

Application of insecticide in a remote area in north Rhodesia.

In the 1960s there was a great sensitivity to the dangers of indiscriminate insecticide applications.  DDT had been banned in many parts of the world and it was in short supply locally.  We had turned to using Dieldrin which was more toxic than DDT but which could be applied in lower concentrations to achieve a similar result in reducing fly populations.

Second:  its preferred food source is the blood of mammals occurring in the wild.  In Rhodesia in the 1960's, the list of the top six preferred animals was made up of elephant, cape buffalo, warthog, bushpig, kudu and bushbuck.  All of these species were carriers of the disease passed on by the fly (trypanosomiasis or "tryps") but were resistant to its effects.  By establishing "controlled hunting areas," populations of these animal species could be selectively reduced or driven out by hunting.  Once these populations were reduced sufficiently the fly could not sustain itself in the area and would die out.  Depending on the success of controlled hunting in one area, resulting in the removal of the fly, the boundary of the controlled hunting areas could be moved each year, thus opening up new land for farming.

Another important consideration was that the tsetse fly could not fly long distances and would not, on its own, move across areas which were dry and did not have suitable shelter.  So their movement was greatly aided by the presence of animals which moved long distances - especially elephant and buffalo.  Tsetse fly were thought to be moved by resting on the skin of elephants as they traversed great distances to find water.  To inhibit the movement of these animals 7 ft. high game fences were erected across great distances, at considerable expense.

The two control methods discussed here, when coordinated with one another, would result in the removal of the fly from widespread areas of the country.  But how did we measure the success of these methods?  Checkpoints (or "fly gates") were set up at strategic points along the areas under attack.  The Tsetse Fly, attracted by dark colors and moving objects, would often rest in the wheel wells of cars.  A gate attendant at a "check point" would walk around the vehicle with a small net in hand and attempt to capture any flies.  These would be counted and recorded.  Over time, his daily log would be handed in and the figures added to maps back at Tsetse Control Headquarters.  These somewhat crude methods gave a good indication of the presence of the tsetse in those sensitive front line areas and helped to plan future campaigns.

A typical rural Tsetse Fly gate in 1960s Rhodesia.

Anyone who may have lived or traveled in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) in the 1960s and 1970s will remember the Tsetse Control Check Point on the highway north leading to Zambia and Lake Kariba.  Every southbound vehicle had to pass through a large hangar expressly constructed for the purpose of capturing flies and monitoring fly numbers. (Unlike the photo shown here, which is a typical small fly gate in a remote area.)  When all the cars and trucks that could fit were inside, the large hangar doors at each end were closed, making the inside dark.  A hand held aerosol insect repellent was spayed into the car or cab of the truck and into the wheel wells of the vehicles.  Small windows were opened in the hangar wall to let in light through a trap.  Attendants would wave their nets around the wheels to stir the flies up.  Flies would either be caught in the nets or attracted to the light boxes in the hangar wall.  This hangar provided  valuable fly counts each month which gave excellent statistics to determine fly populations.

I could write at great length about the massive efforts to push the tsetse away from areas of settlement in Rhodesia.  These efforts continue today in many countries of Africa.  I personally would not trade my time in this effort for anything.  One benefit was that I was always working in areas with very high wildlife populations.  Over one seven-month period from April to October 1968 I lived on the southeast border of Rhodesia, working on a three-country control operation along the shared border with Mozambique.  Teams from South Africa, Mozambique and Rhodesia worked together on this huge effort which consisted of opening up an expensive new road system in the Portuguese territory.  This area of southeast Rhodesia would in later years become the Gona-re-Zhou National Park and may soon be extended across Mozambique into the Kruger National park of South Africa to create a massive "Trans-Frontier Park." The Gona-re-Zhou ("place of the elephants") is one of the most stunningly beautiful areas of Africa. When I was camping there I saw huge herds of cape buffalo and elephant. Two large perennial rivers, the Save and the Lundi Rivers flow through here which support rich game populations in the surrounding hills and plains.

On maps of this area today you can see a small dot along the border labeled "Border B" representing a gate in the fence line.  While I was planning the new road system (using aerial photographs) I selected that point along the fence for construction of a gate between the two countries. Because it occurred at point "B" on an expansive A, B, C, D grid system, I named it Border B Camp.  That name has stuck.  Maybe I should have called it Joe's Gate, or something more descriptive.

If I could have an opportunity to re- visit one part of Africa before I cash in my chips, I would like it to be the Gona-re-Zhou National Park. 

Next: Some animal encounters.

Tsetse Fly Wars - 1967 to present

So, back in 1967, what was the big concern about the Tsetse Fly, and why were so many financial and logistical resources expended to try and control this little pesky critter? The reality then, and now, is that the Tsetse Fly is one of the roots of Africa’s poverty.  No other region of the world suffers the same animal health problems as the tsetse fly imposes on Africa.

Sleeping Sickness and Nagana are diseases transmitted by the Tsetse Fly.  According to the deputy director-general of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) "  It is no accident that the concentration of much of the world's most acute poverty is in regions of sub-Saharan Africa infested with tsetse."    Some experts say that the Trypanosomiasis pathogen helps create African "green deserts" -- 10 million square kilometers of otherwise lush and fertile land that is not in production because of the tsetse fly carrier. This includes land in 32 of the world's poorest countries.

The presence of the disease Nagana, which is deadly to most cattle, prevents rural villagers from using cattle or horses as draft animals which could improve their agricultural productivity by 25 to 45%. "Allowing more African farmers to own livestock would have a profound impact on hunger and poverty in the continent, but that cannot be achieved without the elimination of the tsetse fly."  Native breeds of cattle (Zebu), which will be familiar to those who have traveled to East Africa on safari, are only somewhat resistant to Nagana.

Cross-bred cattle whose milk production is NINE times the native breeds, cannot survive in tsetse fly areas.Ironically, it is the presence of the tsetse fly (and the diseases that it carries) across great tracts of Africa that protected land from over-development during the last century of European settlement and expansion.  This enabled both the colonial rulers and subsequently the governments of independent states to develop their wildlife resources by establishing National Parks and Wildlife Management areas. The Game Reserves of Kenya, Tanzania, South Africa, Zimbabwe and Botswana almost certainly would not have been set aside for the conservation of wildlife had they been of economic value for ranching and crop production. 

The tsetse fly thrives in an environment where there are large populations of wildlife providing an unlimited and year-round supply of essential mammalian blood on which they must feed to survive and reproduce.

Nearly 45,000 cases of sleeping sickness (or Trypanosoma as the pathogen is called) were reported in Africa in 1999. However, only three to four million of the over 60 million people at risk are being screened and the number of cases may be as high as 500,000, the World Health Organization (WHO) reports. In the absence of effective screening most people with sleeping sickness die before they can ever be diagnosed. Early diagnosis offers a relatively high chance of cure. Back in the 1960’s and before, the extent of the disease was worse. 

The disease causes an acute infection that emerges after a few weeks and which can infect a person for months, or years, without symptoms, while parasites multiply in the bloodstream and lymphatic system.  When they cross the blood-brain barrier and invade the central nervous system, there are neurological changes that are often irreversible, and which require a strict and complex regimen of treatment.

The trypanosome is carried in the blood of most African antelope species, as well as other vertebrates such as elephant, cape buffalo, warthogs and bush pigs; all of which are immune to its effects. Horses, cattle, dogs, and other domesticated animals will die when exposed to the bite of the tsetse fly if not maintained on a regular course of prophylactic drugs. The trypanosomes in many areas have become resistant to these drugs.

There is hope for the future.  In 1996, the IAEA assisted in the development of a technique of sterilizing the male tsetse fly using radiation. Large numbers of sterilized males are released into the countryside.  The female fly only mates once in her lifetime, and so the larvae that she lays once every week to ten days does not live. In a trial conducted on the isolated island of Zanzibar, off of the East African coast, the tsetse fly population was eradicated and farming productivity rose dramatically in the years following this trail.  The use of this technique on the African mainland holds hope for similar results, but campaigns would require large financial and human resources, and close cooperation across borders and government jurisdictions to achieve long-term success.  

When I became a Field Entomologist, or Glossinologist, in the “Tsetse and Trypanosomiasis Control Branch” of the Department of Veterinary Services for the Government of Rhodesia in 1967, that progressive country was achieving considerable success in clearing large areas of the tsetse fly.  The extensive, and costly, operations had the vital purpose of opening up new land for settlement to meet a rapidly growing demand for productive farm land for a fast-growing native population.  In many areas of the country land was very fertile, but cattle and other domestic livestock or draft animals could not survive.

 

In my next blog I will describe the basics of a Tsetse Control operation 44 years ago. 

Red marks the extent of Tsetse Fly infestation - as of 1999.