A History Lesson (Part Two)

A year after the outbreak of the First World War, South African forces captured German South West Africa and proclaimed it a protectorate. Mandated to South Africa in 1920, by the League of Nations, South West Africa and the Caprivi remained effectively under their administration until challenged by the South West African People’s Organization in the early 1960’s, just one of a rising number of communist-backed liberation movements, across the continent.

Using bases in southern Angola, SWAPO and its military wing PLAN (The People’s Liberation Army of Namibia) launched a campaign of cross-border incursions which were engaged by the South African National Defence Force. As the conflict intensified, the Caprivi became a front-line in this ‘border war’ which lasted until the late 1980's when eventually the South Africans, under increasing international pressure and despite their military successes against the insurgency, pulled out.

The remnants of this war can be still be seen to this day throughout the Caprivi region, in the many abandoned army bases, airstrips and part destroyed military ordinance. A more dangerous legacy remains however, in the numerous unexploded landmines which still litter the area, near the Angolan border. These occasionally kill and maims humans, as well as wildlife, such as elephants.

A History Lesson (Part One)

Look at a map of Namibia and you will find the Caprivi in the top north east corner. An odd looking strip of land which looks like a ballet dancer’s leg pointing at Zambia, the region is a shinning example of colonial map-making at its worst.

Designated a German protectorate and extension to South West Africa (now Namibia), the region’s borders were drawn and ratified in 1890 following agreements with Portugal, who occupied neighbouring Angola and the British Protectorate of Bechuanaland (Botswana). As the latter turbulent course of African history testifies to, nobody consulted the locals about this.

The Germans, who wanted a corridor to the Zambezi River, were uncharacteristically slow to move into the area and it wasn’t until 1908, that the first official arrived. Herr Hauptman Streitwolf, complete with grand title of ‘Imperial Resident, settled in a most unlikely spot, about 3km from the Zambezi, in a place which he named Schuckmannsburg, in honour of the then governor of South West Africa. (Although one wonders about the ‘honour’ of having your name attached to a insect-infested malarial swamp?)

On hearing of Streitwolf’s arrival, the indigenous Lozi tribe, perhaps fearing a future invasion of deck chairs and striped beach towels along the banks of the Zambezi, upped and fled to what is now Zambia. It is however more probable that they had heard of Germany’s virtual annihilation of the Hereros and Hottentot tribes in other parts of South West Africa. (Germany was busy practising ‘final solutions’ long before the Holocaust).

Schuckmannsburg, possibly the most remote and inhospitable outpost of the German empire entered into the history books on September 22, 1914 with the dubious honour of being the very first piece of territory ‘captured’ at the outbreak of the First World War. The garrison which consisted of four German officers surrendered to a small contingent British troops ‘without a shot being fired’.

A Long Illness

Just got word yesterday that Jacob, one of Elle’s Caprivian assistants, is in a critical condition with what is euphemistically called in this part of the world - ‘a long illness’. In other words full blown AIDS. Three weeks ago, we drove a gravely ill Jacob to the hospital in Katima, suffering from what was believed to be a bad case of the flu. After being prescribed antibiotics for a lung infection and some paracetamol to bring down his fever, he was dispatched the same day, looking much improved. However, according to a friend of his, he has since relapsed and is now seriously ill with little prospect of recovery.

Jacob, who recently married and admits to at least one mistress, is it seems yet another chain link in this dreadful disease which continues to ravage this part of the world where it’s estimated that at least 15 per cent of the population are HIV positive. Fortunately, unlike it’s neighbour South Africa, Namibia has introduced a comprehensive HIV treatment programme, which freely dispenses antiretroviral drugs to those diagnosed with HIV.

Last year, the government’s Ministry of Health and Social Services also introduced its first ever National HIV Testing Day (now and annual May public holiday) in which members of the public are offered free HIV tests and counselling at designated clinics and mobile testing units throughout the country.

As an incentive, people who participate have their medical ID numbers automatically entered into a national lottery with the chance to win prizes. Since its introduction, National HIV Testing Day has proven very popular, with people queuing round the block all day to be tested. Despite, its apparent success, I can’t help feeling this is a rather cruel lottery, where the chances of you being tested positively for HIV are significantly higher than winning a holiday for two in the Algarve.

Dog in a manger

Elle has a dog who I will call Mister B. He’s a Canis Africanus - an African dog, born and bred. Lean and muscular with one half-cocked ear, he’s a pirate of a dog. Tough, resourceful and good-natured, but fiercely protective of Elle. Threaten her and he will eat you. Make no bones about that. This is his default position.

My arrival on the scene has not been easy for Mister B. Both of us have had to make some adjustments to the ‘new order’ of things. Like a child from a previous marriage, I’ve had to recognise that he has certain inalienable rights - the right to lick the dinner plates clean, to chew sticks on the bed and to bark at anything and anyone he chooses no matter how annoying. Likewise he too has had to make compromises albeit more subtle ones. Used to sleeping in the bed with Elle, he’s now pretty much consigned to floor (although he stills get ‘under the duvet’ time in the mornings).

You can sense he’s not entirely happy about his perceived slippage in the Alpha male rankings and I’m reminded of this when I try to go to bed at night. If Elle is already in bed, I have to go through a regular Mexican ‘stand-off’ routine with him, in which he snarls, bares his teeth and threatens to go for my nether regions. It’s only after he’s been hugged, patted, kissed and reassured by Elle, that he allows me to get into bed. This has become a ritual now. Like trying to get past the bouncer into the nightclub.

This ongoing battle to regain No 1 spot in Elle’s affections has taken a new turn in the last 24 hours and I have to say his new strategy is a little disappointing given his tough reputation. He’s developed a limp in his left leg, which according to Elle is psychosomatic and a merely a cry for ‘attention’. I wouldn’t have believed that until I caught him limping on his right.

Going to Katima tomorrow. This means a full English breakfast and the chance to sit on a real toilet seat!

Mission Impossible

The quest to find Livingstone’s Mission yesterday proved to be something of a mission itself. First stop was possibly the world’s smallest museum, a one room thatched cottage, with a few exhibits, and not much bigger than a doll’s house, literally in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, it was locked and the museum ‘curator’ nowhere to be found.

From there, we drove to Linyanti, stopping at the Kusherashera Cash & Carry en route, a roadside shop which according to the sign is open 22 hours a day. The girl was just closing up (presumably for the two hours it shuts daily) as we arrived but we managed to get her re-open and sell us two luke warm cokes from her fridge. Ten minutes later, we arrived in Linyanti, which by village standards was more like an urban sprawl. With no map to guide us, we hoped that the locals would be able to direct us to ruined ‘mission’. But this proved fruitless. No-one knew who Livingstone was, while some people thought I was asking about a ‘living stone’. One young chap, eager to help, jumped in the car and directed us to a clearing where he explained that people ‘had once lived’, but he didn’t know when or who. (Caprivians are a very gentle, good natured people always eager to please, even if it means telling you something you want to hear, rather than saying they haven‘t the faintest clue what you‘re talking about!) Hot, tired and dusty, we gave up at this point and decided to return home.

There’s a noticeable moisture in the air and some clouds in the sky today, which means the rains are coming soon, bringing with them, according to Elle, flooding, unbearable humidity and a thousand fold increase in the mosquito population. The upside apparently is that everything looks very green and pretty!

The mouse that roared.

We’ve got a resident mouse in the tent. You can hear him last thing at night, moving furniture while wearing clogs. The little bastard who stands no more than inch high (I’ve actually seen him washing himself!) is an African Pygmy mouse and the smallest mammal on the continent. But like Napolean and others of small stature, he is obviously determined that size should be no barrier to ambition. So far he has not only managed to gnaw his way through the thick moulded plastic wall of the large cooler box where all our non-perishable food is stored but almost every Tupperware container therein. (What I thought was wild rice, was actually ordinary rice laced with mouse droppings). He has also chewed through Elle’s books, notes, clothing, the tent ground sheet, canvas tent bag, a portable shower bag and undoubtedly numerous other items which have yet to be discovered. Nothing it seems is beyond his titanium-plated incisors. Even Elle who re-releases the tiny fish, which accidentally swim into the water containers when filling up at the river, admits her patience is wearing thin. ‘He is very cute but skating on thin ice.’ Mouse you have warned.

Going off today to try and find the ruin of David Livingstone’s Caprivi mission, which he used as staging post en route to his ‘discovery’ of Victoria Falls. It’s not even on a map and we are hoping that some of locals will know where it is.

TIA (This is Africa!)

Bit of tension in the air this morning between Elle and I. Combination of late nights spent chasing hyenas taking its toll, and the daytime heat which just saps your energy further. I woke up feeling grumpy this morning, partly frustrated at not achieving the work I had intended to do here and generally just ‘getting out of bed the wrong side’. (Trying to finish writing a book I started about four years ago and making little progress!) Elle has very sore eyes from over-wearing her contact lenses and is also feeling tired. Neither of us has really spoken to each other this morning preferring an uneasy tolerance rather than risking saying anything that might be misconstrued as confrontational. Minor irritations are easily projected when living in close proximity.

Also been a frustrating past few days. No internet for 48 hours, in spite of several calls to the service provider who assured it would be back on in 'haff anowah'. I also had to spend the best part of yesterday morning in Home Affairs in Katima in an attempt to extend my holiday visa by a month. Unless you enjoy pain, this is not a recommended experience anywhere in Africa.

After being shunted from pillar to post by a staff whose general demeanour can at best be described as 'leisurely', I was informed that a committee would have to meet to discuss my application and that I would be informed by telephone of the decision. When I asked when this decision might be, I was told it would be ‘sometime, maybe, next week’ (emphasis on 'maybe'). This despite the fact that my visa runs out this Sunday.

Fortunately, they gave me a piece of paper which states that my status is under review, should I be arrested by zealous immigration officials. I propose to do a Neville Chamberlain impression should this happen, although I have a feeling my 'piece of paper' is probably equally worthless.

To die for...

I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since I’ve been here. My stomach appears to have shrunk dramatically and while not quite a washboard yet girls, its probably the flattest its been in thirty years. I put this miraculous transformation down to a lack of Guinness and walking a good half hour every morning, trudging through sandy soil in the bush. (According to Elle, walking through soft sand tightens stomach muscles!)

Meanwhile Elle claims to have put on weight, although quite where I’ve haven’t managed to figure out, as she has a well toned and muscular physique which most women would die for and most men would kill for. She’s very conscious of this supposed 'weight gain', proving that women everywhere, share the same concerns, real or imagined.

Once a week, usually on a Saturday, we drive an hour to Katima Mulilo to shop for food and essentials. It's a little dusty frontier town, with a mix of local businesses and a couple of big supermarkets. Africans throughout the continent, choose oddly endearing names for their shops. Katima has ‘David Shop’ which sells clothing and ‘Happy Shop’ which while I’m not sure what is sells, looks very popular.

You can buy most things in the supermarkets, most of which is imported from South Africa. Food is however expensive and a weekly shop for two of us costs an average of eighty euros not including the booze. (Elle has the odd glass of Chardonnay while I have developed a taste for G&T‘s. Tonic water contains quinine which is anti-malarial. Purely medicinal, you understand, old boy!)
　

'Cheap Shop'

Elle is forever asking me what day it is. It's easy to lose track of time here. The days seem to drift by like clouds, ending abruptly around 6.30pm in pitch darkness. (Nightfall drops like a shutter here). With few human appointments to keep, a watch is a pretty useless here. Time here is graduated to Nature's clock. You get up with a dawn chorus of birds and fall asleep to a frog opera. The hot hours in between are a constant hum and drone of insects, some the size of a Cessna light aircraft.

The days are hotting up literally by a degree a day as the rainy season approaches. The increasing heat seems to have an incremental effect on everything here. The frogs are getting louder and the insects more aggressive. (It reminds me of the 'marching season' back home). The 'mossies' are getting worse too and I'm covered in bites by the little blood-suckers. I've stopped taking anti-malarial prophylactics on the advice of those who live and work here. Prophylactics are not an absolute guarantee against malaria and tend to mask the symptoms if you catch it, meaning you might be unaware you have it until its too late. Celebral malaria which is endemic in this region, is passed on by the dreaded 'Anopheles' mosquito and can kill you in less than 24 hours, if not treated immediately.

Has been a productive week for Elle. She darted another hyena late last night, her second in a week. A large female, she attached a GSM radio collar to it and took blood samples before slicing two chunks out of its ear for future identification purposes. We had to wait almost two hours before it came round and was able to stagger drunkenly back into the bush, by which stage I felt like passing out too. (I fear it's only a matter of time before I sit on a syringe of Zoletil tranquiliser which Elle tends to place on my car seat while she is loading her gun and I'm out hanging up the bait!)

Having earned a day off, Elle and I are heading to a safari lodge tonight for a few drinks and a meal. The lodges here are ludicrously priced on a par with Dublin but there's little choice in the way of entertainment here on the weekend. All the locals go to 'Cheap Shop', a shebeen-come-convenience store with all the allure of a cow byre and a sound system which when fully cranked, is guaranteed to loosen your teeth. Having said that, its the hottest venue in the bush on a Friday and Saturday night...quite possibly because it's the only venue. The local liquer is a form of home brew called 'Tombo' which also removes rust as well as erasing long term memory. Haven't tried it yet but if I don't get some tonic water by Tuesday, I might be tempted.

Off to jump in the river now for bath. This could be my last blog...

A for Aardvark

I've been here three weeks now but it feels longer. The days tend to be slow because of the heat and lack of physical activity. I usually wake up as the sun rises around 6.30am. (I can see it from the shade net window on the tent, like a enormous sliver of melon rising through the trees). After coffee, Elle and I take a walk in the bush before it gets too hot. There are lots of little dusty paths through the bush made by the locals and Elle likes to scan these for 'spoor'. She's teaching me how to identify certain animals by their tracks. (About four months ago, a local stole a pair of lady's shoes from her tent and she was able to track him down to his home from by following his own shoe imprints.) This morning we found the spoor of a honey badger and an Aardvark which is actually an Afrikaans word meaning 'earth pig'.

Breakfast is either Pro-Nutro cereal made of wholewheat or the African version which is called Morvite, which sounds, looks and tastes like something you find in a builder's yard. Mixed with milk or water, the trick is to get it into your digestive system before it becomes a mold cast of your bowl.

There's always lots of chores to be done round the camp. Elle brushes out the tent everyday and for several minutes she's enveloped in a desert storm. It's a constant battle. The dust gets into everything. Your hair, your clothes, camera and computer equipment. Nothing is spared. (The water is black after washing clothes in a bucket!)

I try to write for a few hours each day but the increasing heat fugs your mind. The afternoons become slavish. Elle usually takes a siesta while I struggle on with brain melt. We have a couple of drinks around five (...a G&T for me old boy!), dinner about six before heading out to the park for the night to check on the hyena 'baiting' site. If the hyenas pitch up, we don't usually get back until after midnight. Then sleep.
　
　
　
　

As I swam across crocodile-infested waters...

Woke up this morning to a pounding headache having overindulged the gin last night. Tried to walk it off, accompanied by several biting flies determined to add irritation to my lack of well-being. Any romantic notions of living in the bush are quickly dissapated by the realities. It's hot, dusty and full of insects which bite, sting or just annoy. I'm covered in mosquito bites despite regularly spraying myself with repellent. Elle assures me, that the mosquito population will become exponential next month when the rains come.

Elle gave a talk and presentation last night to a group of bushmen last night, who are currently employed on a week long 'game count' in the region. Using her laptop, she showed them photographs of the lions, hyenas and leopard at the 'baiting' site captured on the remote camera. The 'bushies' thought the pictures were very amusing for some reason and there was much laughter and 'clicking' chatter.

Earlier in the day, I visited a beautiful, thatched lodge on an island, complete with its own 'crocodile pool' (This is an wire mesh enclosure in the river for human bathing, as opposed to pool full of crocodiles!) Getting to it was a bit of a mission and involved wading across three hundred yards of almost waist-high water to get to it. Quite nerve-wracking as its just the kind of place that a croc might be lurking. The irony of crossing a potentially croc-infested waterway to visit a 'croc pool' was not lost on me.

Jurassic Park

Elle, Robin, Kath and I went to the park last night to visit the 'baiting' site. Had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach as we drove. A sense of foreboding. About three hundred yards from the site, there was a huge trumpet sound. Elephants! Suddenly, Elle jams on the brakes and we are staring at baby elephant crossing the road. Another huge trumpet, this time beside the car. To our right and left, the bush is cracking and crunching. You can just make out huge dark shapes everywhere. We are now in middle of huge herd of elephants and they are not happy. My heart is racing. Elephants will crush a car and the occupants inside without hesitation especially if they feel threathened. Elle is terrified of elephants but doesn't panic. She hits the accelarator and we speed off along the sandy dirt track, to a chorus of trumpeting and undergrowth being thrashed through either side of the car. It's a truly terrifying gauntlet for several minutes.

We eventually grind to a halt ten minutes later and everyone takes a deep breath. (The last time I felt like that, was being fired upon by Serbs outside Tuzla in Bosnia back in 1993). We wait awhile, taking solace in the most beautiful full red moon which has risen. We know we have to go back the way we came. We just hope the elephants, given a bit of time, will move on. Eventually, we turn round and head back.

We get as far as the 'baiting' site and no sign of the elephants. The bait has gone and no hyenas. In the near distance staring at us, their eyes reflected in the torch-light, is a herd of Impala. I open up the safe box containing the remote camera which is chained to a tree stump opposite the 'bait' tree and Elle begins to download the pictures. Suddenly, the silence is broken by a huge trumpet sound in the distance. It's an elephant. A minute later, there is another terrific roar, this time so much closer. He's coming our way and fast. The air suddenly goes still. The ground begins to vibrate below our feet. He's crashing through the bush now and bellowing. We jump back into the car. Elle hits the ignition, and we speed off, leaving him behind us. For anyone, who has never had experience of angry elephants at night...think Jurassic Park. Not for the faint-hearted.

A Sense of Smell

Visited the 'baiting' site around 8pm on Friday night and strung up a 'new' maggot infested neck of beef to replace the one stolen by the leopard during the week. The smell of the rotting meat, which has been lying in the hot sun in the back of Elle's bakkie for two days was beginning to overpower the campsite and I'm glad it's now hanging from a tree in the bush five miles away. (Elle's olifactory senses have its seems, become inured to the smell of rotting meat over the years, and it doesn't seem to bother her much!) We also threw out bones and some left over Zebra meat. Hidden amongst these 'scraps' was a piece of meat, containing 75 milligrams Dormicum sedative which will cause drowsiness in a hyena, enough to allow Elle to fire a Zoletil tranquiliser dart and put it to sleep.

Within half an hour of playing 'squealy pig' noises over the loudspeakers, an old female hyena pitched up to investigate. Elle calls her the 'big grey one' or alternatively 'the old bitch'. We watched her for almost two hours, as she ate the scraps and wandered back and forwards. But before Elle could dart her, she suddenly disappeared. Such is the unpredictability of wild animals.

On Saturday, Elle, Robin and I drove to Katima to pick up Kath, a mutual friend of ours from Cape Town who is coming to stay for a few days. Kath wants to start a walking safari business in the Caprivi and has several meetings lined up. Starting a business here, is no easy task. 'Joint Venture' are the key words. Which means, any business idea, has to involve the local community at 'stakeholder' level.

The Seventh Day Adventists have upped and gone. Woken by the birds this morning which sound like a hundred ringtones all going off simultaneously.
　

The Snake Season

Getting hotter with each day. Practically impossible to do anything between noon and 3pm except lie on bed wearing a wet T-shirt and read. The only respite from the heat is lying next to a woman also wearing a wet T-shirt.

Known locally as the 'snake season' it's the time of year when you have to be little more careful when in the bush. A local WWF (World Wildlife Fund) guy spotted a four metre Egyptian Spitting Cobra yesterday, slithering through a pile of dead leaves not far from here. Generally, snakes avoid human contact and will get out of the way, if they hear you coming, so general advice is to make as much noise as possible when out walking.

Puff Adders are the exception to the rule, because they like to bask in the sun and are well camouflaged. Their bite is nasty but rarely fatal if you can get to a doctor in time. The worst snake here is the Black Mamba, which is very slender snake with a coffin-shaped head. They grow up to four metres long and their toxic bite can kill an adult human in less than ten minutes. They are known to raise their body two thirds of the ground before they strike and even chase their prey if it attempts to escape. They definitely not on my 'things to see and do' list.

Elle has gone out today with Robin, the Wild dog man to track down a hyena den, based on the information and locations supplied by the GSM tracking collar which she managed to download to her computer yesterday. The hyena in question has cubs, and if she can locate the den, she will place a remote camera opposite to record any activity. She is very excited about this.

I saw my first spotted hyena about ten days ago. Elle darted one and I was able to observe it up close. They are rather strange looking animals. There forelegs are longer than their hind legs which gives them a distinctly sloped look and a running gait like Quasimodo. Their brown spots are generally quite blotchy and they have a slate grey head like a giant rodent full of bone-crushing teeth. Elle thinks they look really 'cute'. They remind me of a bad acid trip in my late teens.
　

Lions Visit

Woken again at dawn this morning by the Christians across the river singing 'How are you this morning?' Elle has a PA system and speakers mounted on her bakkie which she uses to play injured pig noises to lure her hyenas. I'm thinking of playing a few Lion roars later tonight just to get even.

Drove into the park last night to visit Elle's hyena 'baiting' site which consists of a large piece of beef neck suspended by a rope from a tree. A remote camera is positioned strategically opposite and records any visitors that show up. Four hyenas have visited the spot regularly for the past couple of months. In the past couple of days, a leopard has been caught on camera, trying to steal the bait. But an even bigger surprise emerged as Elle downloaded the pictures to her laptop computer. Four lions, three females and a young male had visited on Tuesday night! Great pictures and quite a coup.

Elle got some more good news today. After fearing five month's of data from a GPS tracking collar which she removed from a hyena last week had been lost, it finally downloaded to her computer. From the information, she can now determine where the hyena, a lactating mother, has her den and her daily movements. This is a big breakthrough for Elle and after days of uncertainty and frustration, she is over the moon. It's the culmination of a over a year's work.

This Simple Life

Life here is very basic. There is no electricity and all power is supplied by car batteries which have be charged up on a rotation basis. Drinking water is drawn from the river with a bucket, while keeping an eye out for crocs lurking in the reeds. Elle had an encounter with a four metre croc about a month ago while out walking nearby. Says she heard huge slapping sounds a few yards behind her followed by a huge splash. She turned just in time to see his/her big tail disappearing into the murky water.

Toilet is a wander into a bush with a spade. A keen survey of the immediate surroundings is advised before getting down to the business in hand. Squatting in the bush with your trousers at half mast and your arse exposed is not the best position to be in if suddenly confronted with the unexpected.

Showering is a process of standing naked in a wash-hand basin and using a showerhead contraption with pump end submerged in bucket of water. The electrical end is plugged into cigarette lighter in the car. The result is a faint but steady trickle of water which succeeds in wetting the body just enough to work up a soap lather. From start to finish, a shower takes about half an hour but it leaves you feeling wonderfully clean and fresh albeit with a sense of achievement.

No Rest for the Wicked

Woken up at 5.30am this morning by loud humming of generator belonging to a large gathering of Seventh Day Adventists who are camped nearby. This was shortly followed by torturous and garbled rantings of their pastor over a PA system for about an hour. (Tip to Pastor: There is no need to shout into microphone.) This rude awakening was exacerbated by major headache from hangover. (I ran out of tonic water last night and was reduced to filling the remainder of the glass with gin...). I have nothing against Christians but this morning I am thinking maybe the Romans had a point.

Elle's friend and associate Robin, is arriving by bus from Windhoek this morning to pick up his Toyota Landcruiser which he was forced to abandon here, after his engine cooling fan splintered into a hundred pieces. He studies Wild dogs sometimes called 'painted dogs' because of their markings. Elle also got a text message from her trainee Calicious this morning to say his cousin Euster, who has been ill with the flu, is 'in serious condition and losing power' and needs a lift to the hospital in Katima.


Caprivians are by nature the gentlest of people but they are very expectant of help. Not a day goes by here, when one doesn't ask for something. A lift in the car, food, money etc. It's hard to refuse because they don't have much and you want to help. But the word swiftly spreads that your a 'soft touch' and before you know it, everyone and their cousin is beating a path to your tent flap.