By Richard Lendrum
So, Zambia is the country of my birth and, having left at three years old to move to Bulawayo, Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), meant I remembered nothing. The sum total of my experience with the land of my birth was a visit to Kubu Lodge just upstream from Vic Falls – perhaps 15 years ago – and swimming in the iconic Devil’s Pools literally a few meters from the edge where the water cascades into the Boiling Pot below. So, the opportunity to go with my great pal and longtime contributor to the AHG, Ken Bailey, for his dream buffalo hunt, was just what I needed. Not only because it is my annual forced ‘get out of Joburg trip’ with Ken, albeit that we usually wingshoot, it was a great excuse to just immerse myself in what Zambia had to offer.
I fell in love. It’s why I will never desert this continent. The ride out to this wilderness area east of the country, was an eye opener. At one extreme, narrow roads with loads of trucks ensure you value life. Then on the other, there is utter poverty with people doing what they can to survive; selling berries they collect in the wild, dried fish, handmade curios and fruit and vegetables in roadside stalls, and essential goods in markets where human life is at its most vibrant.
My pictures will have to do the talking.
The bird life was extraordinary. A cruise down the river – I am not sure how many tourists do this on the Luangwa, and dare I say, I think it has every possibility of rivaling the boat trips down the Zambezi from Chirundu to Mana Pools, which I have been privileged to do. We counted 40 species of birdlife in the morning as we meandered down, and a monkey I had never heard of – Molony’s White-collared Monkey.
The sad reality of much of Africa, and Zambia is no different – is that strong western, northern, or in this case, eastern powers, either initiate or engage in a partnership that leaves the country being plundered. Indigenous trees are indiscriminately cut by Chinese loggers and by local inhabitants desperate for survival, producing and selling their own charcoal. Bags of once wonderful trees are reduced to 80 or 90 pounds of black blocks shoved into a heavy-duty bag – all for around $3. Cyclists / taxis with two and three of these sacks loaded on to their bikes head to wherever they can sell them on the roadside between the Luangwa and Lusaka, the capital. I didn’t see much of the capital, (thankfully, I believe!) but we stayed in a piece of paradise – Wild Dog Lodge – owned by a tour operator selling safaris across the sub-continent. Trees, birds, and Zambian hospitality that was just so slow but impossible not to love. Time means nothing. And perhaps that is one of the lessons there.
Village life for the majority of Zambia’s country folk is something that needs to be seen to believed. We drove around a village near where we stayed – it hadn’t changed probably in hundred or more years. No electricity, no running water, one well for the entire village. Just the Chief had iron sheets on the roof. And the happiest kids everywhere. Acceptance that this is it… well certainly while they are so young. Living with and having no option other than to deal with what challenges they face. The village our tracker came from, which was about a day’s road trip north, had lost four people this year so far, from elephant, croc and lion. Four humans, lost in just one village. There are no statistics countrywide to record this. No way right now, that this human tragedy is even recorded, let alone noted. I was stunned. This is Africa.
I managed to bring home a collection of fantastic rocks, driftwood from the banks of this mighty river, some seedpods – all to add to the safari sanctuary of Afton – although it was a little nerve-wracking having to explain to the Zambian authorities when their scanners picked up the round objects on the X-ray – but that is another story.
I met a South Africa couple who had been in Australia for 30 years, huge farmers in the west of Australia, and what were they doing? Wanting to invest in Zambia and start farming there! Sure, they had made money, it was most probably safer, but then what? Obviously, there was something calling them back.
I flew home, thinking. Thinking how I could, in my small way, somehow help this lush, fertile country, blessed with an abundance of so much – vegetation, space, wildlife, people.
It’s starting with sharing this short account … designing the new logo for the Zambian Professional Hunters Association – and there will be more in the times ahead. Of that you can be certain.
Enjoy the pictures.
