NATIONAL PARKS AND WILDLIFE MANAGEMENT RHODESIA & ZIMBABWE - 2ND EDITION by SA Media Services

BEFORE WE FORGET: CONTETNS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I am indebted to the Dagaboys, friends and colleagues of an era now past who, through their contribution of anecdotes, photographs, historic accounts and suggestions, have made this long overdue book possible. In particular, I’d like to thank Sandy and Tony Ferrar for tackling the difficult job of editing and cutting through reams and reams of paperwork - some of it very jumbled. Sandy, you showed the patience of Job and certainly I couldn’t have done it without your help or without Tony’s erudite comments and suggestions. I owe much to Billie O’Hara, Barney’s mum, for agreeing to take on the eyestrain and tiring task of proof reading… dotting the i’s, crossing the t’s and everything else that goes with it. I am so grateful this task wasn’t mine. Billie, thank you. For giving me access not only to his written material, but for answering numerous emails, Dr Graham Child deserves special mention. In the same vein, Dave and Meg Cumming always found time during their busy schedules to answer queries, pen accounts and to give meaningful suggestions. John White in Harare and Richard Peek out at Marula, both of whom played succinct but totally different roles – John for making available his collection of photographs, Annual Reports and other correspondence, for keeping in touch and following up on outstanding issues; and Richard and Bookey Peek for not only providing me with a roof over my head in the early stages of my gathering material, but also the much-needed encouragement, and finally, Richard, for tackling the many difficult photographic issues. The Hull family – Alistair, Di, Stephanie and Kelly - a big thank you to all of you; nothing seemed too much for you to take on, be it on the photographic side, transcribing audio interviews and contributing to specific sections within the book; your help has been invaluable. Thanks also go to Graham Hall for willingly relating his amusing anecdotes and seemingly impossible flying exploits. Likewise, to Mike La Grange who contributed meaningfully in the various fields of management and who suggested and jogged my mind on the subject of Land Rovers. Russell and Lynne Taylor also, from Harare, thank you for giving me access to your comprehensive records relating to Zimbabwe’s rhino wars. Thank you also to the ‘Falls Fossils’ - Rob and Paddy Francis who willingly parted with family stories plus photographs of their days in the Department. Charlie Mackie also gave of his time to recount snippets of his flying experiences and the horrific incident of the terrorist ambush in Wankie. The same applies to Blondie Leathem and Mitchell (Mitch) Barnes, both of whom patiently spent time with me as I sought information relating to anti-poaching work. Steve Edwards for your accounts on unconventional and covert actions in the rhino wars; I think the stories will open a few eyes - thank you. Barney O’Hara, thank you for balancing the record concerning Zephania and for your other contributions. On behalf of all the wives, certainly unsung heroes Margaret Peach and Dolores Moore – thank you. Outside the country, I am very grateful for the input of Dave Rushworth who pioneered the RECCE project. Similarly, to a good friend and tutor of many - Paul Coetsee - who reservedly, and after quite some persuasion, agreed to talk about a few of his experiences in the Mashonoland North Region. I am also grateful to both Billy Howells, recently retired from Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife previously known as Natal Parks Board, and Tony Conway, who holds a senior position with the same organisation, for their input regarding policing. Ed Ostrosky, also with EKZN Wildlife, for the use of his maps, access to his monthly reports and personal archives. Thanks also to Jordy Jordaan, Ian Thomson and Angus Anthony, each of whom delved back in time to write up notes and stories. Special mention must be made of Dave Blake, the Department’s crocodile fundi and ‘keeper’ of miscellaneous Departmental records, correspondence, reports and memorabilia – Dave, what a pleasure it was to visit you and Jill, your help was immeasurable. Phil Evans, ex Deputy Director NPWLM and EKZN, another stalwart and loyal Dagaboy – thank you, Phil, for your input and encouragement. Ron Thomson, a good friend of many years, is another who deserves special thanks for breaking away from his seemingly neverending busy schedule of writing to jot down concise notes relating to his time as a ranger, warden and provincial warden and also to answer many queries. Zambia - thanks also go to Colin Lowe and Doug Evans’s for their input concerning the Zipra attack on Fort Mana. On the research side – Dale Kenmuir who, working also with material from George Begg, spent hours and hours putting together a complete and anecdotal account of the Lake Kariba Fisheries Research Institute and, on its completion, then went out of his way to obtain additional material and photos of old colleagues; I cannot by-pass the time and effort Morag too put into this work – a big thank you to you both. Others who contributed to the record of the Department’s proud achievements in the field of Fisheries Research include John Minshull, Peter Thomson, John English and Ian van der Lingen.

On the terrestrial research side, my sincere thanks go to Peter Guy, Rowan Martin, Drew Conybeare, Kit Hustler, Hans Grobler, Nigel Morris and Vernon Booth – the latter two who got together with Tony Ferrar and pooled their thoughts regarding the history and workings of the Matetsi Safari Area, and the others for their individual accounts of their work and experiences. Thanks also to Norman Monks for his various contributions that are scattered across this record and to Chris Lightfoot who researched the early history of the Department and the wildlife policies regarding tsetse. Down under and on the other side of the world, my thanks go to Dave Scammell, Bob Thomson and Rob Murray, who all willingly delved back into their diaries, reports and memories to relate moments of yesteryear. Roy Killick, Derek Worsley and Anne Moore – Roy for facts concerning the Volunteer Tracker Unit, Derek for relating his National Service days and flying experiences with Graham Hall, and Anne for her broad-based write-up on tourism and the CBO. In the UK, Tom Everett who assisted with the Parks role, Arthur Wood for team photographs – thank you. I’d like to give special mention and thanks to Gary Charsley, who struggled to write up his terrifying account of abduction by rogue and lawless elements of the Botswana Defence Force - I am very grateful that this event is now on record. Sadly, we lost trusted friends in the course of duty, during the war and in the years that followed – I am touched and deeply indebted to the contributions made to this historical account on their behalf by their widows and relatives – Sue Coltman, thank you for sharing yours and Oliver’s photo albums and taking the time to scan selected photographs for me. Jenny Pelham, Tim Wellington’s widow - thank you for sight of personal correspondence from Tim, allowing us to share the thoughts and heart of a man devoted to you and nature. Grettl Hughes, Robin’s widow – for the photographs and permitting me to include Robin’s history of the Chewore and Mana Pools areas – thank you Grettl. Patricia Tomlinson, Derek’s widow - thank you, Patricia, for the photographs and other material. Jean Junor, Frank’s beloved wife who sadly passed away two or so years back – you told great stories Jean, thank you. Carol Williams, Willie de Beer’s daughter who was entrusted with the manuscripts Willem was preparing for publication – thank you, Carol, for giving me sight of these stories and allowing me to use those of my choice. There is a long list of those I need to thank. To add to those already mentioned are the names of Dr Colin Saunders, Deryk Langman, Kevin and Brenda Thomas, Adrian and Odette Lind, Kate and Elizabeth Reese, Judy Dunjey, Norman English, Peter Fick, Mary Ball, Glenn Tatham, the Read family – Adrian, Gary and Linda. Among my friends outside the Department – Mike Scott for his help in translating Shona and Ndebele words and phraseology. From schooldays and living in Hilton, my second home - the Hibbs family, Dave, Lal, Murray and James. Jonathan Pittaway, another Balgowan (Michaelhouse) old boy in Durban - thank you for your friendship, help and advice on publishing, marketing and everything else that goes with getting a book into print and ‘on the shelves’. Last but certainly not least Tiphanie Gorrie for her untiring efforts with regards to the layout of the manuscript, you done an amazing job - thank you Tiphanie. In conclusion, I have tried to recall all who have contributed in one way or another to this record. I could not have done it without your help, but, saying that, there is every possibility I have omitted to mention a few names. I do apologise; this is an oversight and not intentional. Mike Bromwich

Copyright - © 2014 by Michael Bromwich ISBN: 978-0-620-61929-5 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher or the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchase. Published by: Michael Bromwich. mikebromwich1@gmail.com Printing and binding: WKT Co. Ltd. Hong Kong, China. Print production: SA Media Services, les@samedia-services.co.za

1 Dedication 2 Acknowledgements 6 Foreword 6 Introduction 7

Chapter 1 HOW IT ALL STARTED

13 13 14 16 19 20 22 22 24 27 28 29 31 32

Chapter 2 THE DAGABOYS – Portraits of a few TED DAVISON MBE – Ron Thomson BRUCE AUSTEN BARRIE BALL HARRY CANTLE GRAHAM CHILD THE COETSEE BROTHERS PAUL COETSEE CLEM COETSEE DAVE CUMMING PHIL EVANS JOHN CHARLES TEBBIT OBE RON THOMSON JOHN WHITE

33 Chapter 3 RANGING 33 DEDICATED TO JOHN TEBBIT, MY DAD – Trish Parsons (nee Tebbit) 36 PAUL READ GORED BY A BUFFALO – Lynda Crafter (nee Read) 36 CADET RANGER SELECTION COURSE – Richard Peek 39 HORSE POWER – A DIFFERENT KIND 0F 4X4 – horses, pack donkeys and tourists in the saddle 39 Long Ago – Jordy Jordaan 39 Bond Between Man and Beast – Richard Aylward 41 Long Range Transport – Stan Elliott 42 Horses for Courses – Lynda Crafter (nee Read) 44 Donkey Trails in Elephant Country – Mike Bromwich 45 PATROL REPORT – Senior Scout Petros 46 THE SINOIA HOTEL THUNDER FLASH INCIDENT AS RELATED by John White & Dave Scammell 48 INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT 48 GETTING MAIL TO MABALAUTA – Rob Murray and Mike Bromwich 48 THE SHASHI, LIMPOPO AND LUNDI FLOODS 49 The Lundi River (Chipinda Pools) – Angus Anthony 50 CROWNED EAGLE ATTACK ON AN AFRICAN CHILD – Mark Brightman and PeteWestrop 51 A HARD SOUGHT GIFT – Cynthia Osborne 51 LIONS 51 Tents and Lions – Colin Welensky 52 More on Lions – Kit Hustler 52 The Need for a Cigarette – Pete Fick 53 APRIL FOOL’S DAY AT KYLE – Peter Thomson 54 MY EARLY DAYS AT KARIBA – Derek Worsley 55 ‘ANDRESS UNDRESSED’ – Deryk Langman (Ranger Victoria Falls Rain Forest) 55 BATH TIME AND OTHER OPERATION NOAH STORIES – Frank and Jean Junor 55 A genet and a cobra 56 Snakes in the Lake – a Change in Attitude 56 OPERATION BUFFALO HEARTBREAK – Lynda Crafter (nee Read) 57 WINGS ABOVE THE TREES – PILOTS EXTRAORDINAIRE 62 Richard Aylward recounts a few of his experiences 72 LAND ROVER – THE DEPARTMENT’S WORK HORSE

72 78 79 79 81 91

Mike La Grange Recalls In the Cab with Richard Aylward ALL IN A DAY’S WORK Hippo Capture with a Difference – Paul Coetsee Hunting with a VIP of Yesteryear – Paul Coetsee THE EXUBERANCE OF YOUTH – Rob Clifford

97 99 100 102 103 103 104 104 104 105 105 106 109 111 113 114

Chapter 4 GAME SCOUTS AND TRACKERS GAME SCOUT SELECTION SERVICE HONOURS FOR STAFF GAME SCOUTS IN RESEARCH – Dave Cumming PORTRAITS OF A FEW Sergeant Gezani Manganye – Jeremy Anderson Sergeant Mahoboti – Dave Rushworth Game Scout Button – Paul Coetsee Senior Scout Mece Machavana – Mike Bromwich Sergeant Manwere – Dave Rushworth Sergeant Mjoyce Buyotsi – Bob Thomson Tracker and Game Scout Samson – Paul Coetsee Sergeant Kapesa, Mentor and Guide – Ian Thomson Sergeant Makeko – Alistair Hull Game Scout Harrison Chitungu – Graham Hall Senior Scout Keni Kasaruro MLM. MSM. – John Stevens

117 117 117 120 124 127 128 129 135

Chapter 5 BUSH WIVES UNSUNG HEROINES NOT QUITE A DOCTOR AND NOT QUITE A VET – Margaret (Haslam) Peach DONKEY BOILER DAYS – Jean Junor The Story of Gerry the Giraffe Leopards at Kariba MEMORIES FROM LAKE KARIBA – Dolores Moore SENGWA WILDLIFE RESEARCH STATION: THE WIFE’S TAIL – Meg S. Cumming Subsequently…(May 2012) Meg S Cumming

137 137 137 141 142 145 147 148 152 153 153 155 155 156 156 159 160 161 161 163 164 165 165 166 167 167 171 175

Chapter 6 GAME AND VELD MANAGEMENT TSETSE FLY CONTROL OVERVIEW - Chris Lightfoot PROTECTING THE CATTLE INDUSTRY First Operations – Paul Coetsee Part 1 of the Elephant drive – Penduka Nzhou Gaining Experience – Bruce Couper Penduka Nzhou The end of Tsetse Operations GAME WATER SUPPLIES Time Line and Notes from Annual Reports – Tuli Gonarezhou Matetsi Safari Area WANKIE/HWANGE POST-1980 – Barney O’Hara Richard Aylward RANGE/VELD MANAGEMENT FIRE The Wankie Fire Unit – Alan Sparrow Elsewhere Fire as a Management Tool – Mike Bromwich Early burning in the Zambezi Escarpment – Ecologist Faye Robertson ALIEN PLANT CONTROL EROSION CONTROL GAME CAPTURE Historic Review Early Game Capture in Wankie National Park – Tim Braybrooke Mana Pools Impala Capture, 1969

BEFORE WE FORGET: CONTETNS

CONTENTS

176 180 181 182 185 187 188 190 191 192 192 193 194 199 200 202 202 205 207 209 209 210 214 215 216

Giraffe Capture: a Kick in the Stomach – Richard Aylward Foot-and-Mouth Disease Control Measures SOS – Save our Sable BLACK RHINO CAPTURE Gored by a Rhino GAME MANAGEMENT Elephant Buffalo Hippo Impala Zebra / Wildebeest / Waterbuck THE BIG TUSKERS Kabakwe The Chura Bull Chipatani Joe Chizarira Tuskers PROBLEM ANIMALS – A PERENNIAL ISSUE Vermin / Problem Animal Control PACRU – Problem Animal Control Research Unit Lions in the Gwaai Valley Bruce Austen Blinded by Euphorbia Sap – Tim Braybrooke QUELEA CONTROL Ground Spraying Research and Results Quelea as a Source of Protein

217 220 220 220 223 223 226 228 232 236 238

Chapter 7 POACHING, POACHERS AND POLICING AN ANTI-POACHING DIARY – Jules Turnbull-Kemp (Main Camp Wankie NP) August 1978 September 1978 Signs of the times elsewhere THE DOTAMA INCIDENT, WANKIE NP 1980 – Mitchell (Mitch) Barnes DEBRIEFING SHADRECK, GONAREZHOU PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER 1 – Koos Herbst POACHING COUNTER MEASURES – BOOTS ON THE GROUND THE WEST NICHOLSON ANTI-POACHING UNIT – Bill Howells SERGEANT ZEPHANIA MKETIWA Further insights on Zephania – a tribute by Norman Monks

241 Chapter 8 BIOGRAPHIES AND JOURNALS 241 SANDALS IN THE SAND – DAVE SCAMMELL 242 EXCERPTS FROM EARLY DIARIES AND MONTHLY REPORTS 242 The Cogswell & Harrison 470 Double Rifle 243 Operation Cauldron Unfolds 244 Monthly Report March 1968 244 Monthly Report October 1968 245 Monthly Report November 1968 245 December 1968 245 January 1969 (Tsetse Operations) 246 Monthly Report February 1969 246 August 1970 (Tsetse Ops) 247 MAY 1970 (BIRCHENOUGH BRIDGE FIELD STATION) 248 ROVING CONTROL: JUNE’68 – FEB’72 248 CHETE GAME RESERVE 248 KYLE NATIONAL PARK – AUGUST 1973 TO DECEMBER 1975 250 VICTORIA FALLS – DECEMBER 1975 TO JANUARY 1980 253 GONAREZHOU; JANUARY 1980 – NOVEMBER 1983 253 10th of March 1980

255 January 1981 256 24th March 1982 257 23rd February 1983 257 THE LAST ELEPHANT HUNT 258 A LIFE IN NATIONAL PARKS – ROBERT LLOYD MURRAY 278 WILLEM DE BEER – FROM THE JOURNALS OF THE ALPHA DAGABOY 279 THE SHAPI TRAGEDY – THE TRUE STORY 288 Hazel’s Story 290 Colin’s Story 293 AWARD FOR GALLANTRY 293 TJOLOTJO LION INCIDENT 293 TULI SAFARI AREA 295 GRAHAM HALL’S TRIBUTE 296 UNFOLDING THE LAND – EXTRACTS FROM TIM WELLINGTON’S LETTERS TO HIS FIANCÉ 297 MANA POOLS – 10TH AUGUST 1977 297 MANA POOLS – UNDATED (EXTRACT) 298 MANA POOLS – UNDATED 299 MANA – 29TH JUNE 1978 299 MANA POOLS – 13TH JANUARY 1979 (EXTRACTS) 17TH JANUARY 1979 300 OF BAOBABS, OIL AND EVERYTHING ELSE – SELECTED STORIES FROM ROB FRANCIS 304 MATUSADONA 308 SALISBURY 310 CHIPINDA POOLS – GONAREZHOU 313 313 313 315 316 317 321 324 326 328 332 332 332 332 332 333 334 334 336 337 338 338 340 342 343 345 347

Chapter 9 RESEARCH AND SCIENTIFIC MANAGEMENT TERRESTRIAL ECOLOGY HISTORY AND OVERVIEW Time Line RESPONSIBILITIES OF THE TERRESTRIAL ECOLOGY DIVISION DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENGWA WILDLIFE RESEARCH AREA AND INSTITUTE – David Cumming REFLECTIONS OF A RESEARCH OFFICER – Peter Guy ELEPHANTS, TREES AND FIRE AT CHIZARIRA – Peter Thomson Chizarira Black Rhino Research – Peter Thomson SOJOURN IN SENGWA – Kit Hustler HANS GROBLER REMEMBERS Catching Red Hares in the Matopos In the Park with Basil An Interlude with Feathers Catching a Wayward Crocodile “DIVISIONS” – FIELD VS THE NEW RESEARCH RANGER – Norman Monks FERRARS FOLLY – TONY FERRAR, TINNY GIFFORD (NEE POSSELT) & RON THOMSON Tony’s Story Tinny’s Recollection EARLY DAYS AT SHAPI CULLING CAMP – Jeremy Anderson BUT A CALF WHEN WANKIE PARK WAS FIRST PROCLAIMED – Kit Hustler FLASH FLOOD, JANUARY 1971 – Brian Sherry NEVER A DULL MOMENT – Fred Duckworth ON THE PROWL – Pete Thomson THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BLACK AND WHITE RHINO – Kit Hustler BEADLE – Dave Blake AQUATIC ECOLOGY THE FISHERIES BRANCH

LAKE KARIBA FISHERIES RESEARCH INSTITUTE – Dale Kenmuir and George Begg The Early Years The Early Seventies The Mid-Seventies onwards THE MCILWAINE RESEARCH CENTRE – Dale Kenmuir THE INYANGA TROUT RESEARCH CENTRE – John English LAKE KYLE RESEARCH CENTRE Lake Kyle and Lowveld fishy business 1973-76 – John Minshull remembers At Kyle – Peter Thomson AND SCIENTIFICALLY WHAT ELSE RHODESIA’S CROCODILE INDUSTRY Background – Ron Thomson Getting the Industry Started – Dave Blake Science and Success FROM SMALL BEGINNINGS – THE MATOPOS BLACK EAGLE SURVEY DOMESTICATION OF ELAND – THE VANISHED LEGACY OF JOHN POSSELT – Tony Ferrar and Norman Monks OPERATION WINDFALL AND THE ‘CAMPFIRE’ PROGRAM Operation Windfall CAMPFIRE GREEN SAFARIS THE WANKIE RAPTOR SURVEY

431 431 431 432 433 433 434 434 434 438 438 439 440 443 447 448 449 451 452 453 455 456

Chapter 10 SPORT HUNTING AS AN ALTERNATIVE LAND USE A BRIEF HISTORIC REVIEW THE GAME DEPARTMENT – PRE AND POST YEARS GAME RANCHING/RANCH HUNTING Matetsi Parks and Wild Life Act 1975 Post Independence – 1980 Economic Review CONSERVATIONIST TO HUNTER – Tim Braybrooke EXPROPRIATION – THE MATETSI PROJECT The Landscape Wildlife Management Background Setting up the Project Annual quotas – The Perennial Hot Topic Katombora Ranger Station Economic Viability Fire Management in Matetsi The Tumultuous Years Fine-tuning the Options A SAFARI OPERATOR’S VIEWPOINT Management under NP in the early days The Quota System

457 Chapter 11 LEADERSHIP, POLICY AND TOURISM 457 THE WILD LIFE COMMISSION 1969 459 Appointment of New Director 459 Summation 459 THE PARKS AND WILD LIFE BOARD – Dr Colin Saunders 461 THE RECCE STORY 465 RECOLLECTIONS – from Dave Rushworth and Ben Bezuidenhout 469 VICTORIA FALLS GORGE RESCUE UNIT 474 Rapids Rescue – Deryk Langman (Ranger Victoria Falls Rain Forest) 474 TEAMWORK 475 TOURISM 481 CENTRAL BOOKING OFFICE – Anne Moore 481 LIFE AS A TOURIST OFFICER, WANKIE NATIONAL PARK, IN THE ‘70S – Di Hull (nee Thompson)

493 494 495 495 496

“EDWARDS CAR BREAKERS” – Steve Edwards KYLE – LIVING AMONG THE CAMPERS – Erica Scammell BEHIND THE SCENES WORKS SUPERVISORS SENIOR CLERICAL OFFICERS

497 497 498 501 501 502 502 505 507 507 508 508 510 510 510 513 515 520 532 533 536 537 540 543 543

Chapter 12 THE WAR – 12 YEARS OF CONFLICT OPERATION NICKEL LANDMINES TRACKERS – A TRIBUTE – LIEUTENANT GENERAL J.S.V.HICKMAN, CLM.MC Combat Trackers Pseudo Operators THE VOUNTEER TRACKER UNIT OR VTU KILLED IN ACTION Richard Smith killed in Action – Sgt. Andrew Mackay B Coy 1 RR Nic Gregory Killed in Action – Charles Mackie Russell William Killed in Wankie – Alistair Hull NATIONAL SERVICEMEN MINEFIELDS Victoria Falls Mabalauta – Gonarezhou – Mike Bromwich HOME LIFE – Mike Bromwich TOURISM GARY CHARSLEY ABDUCTED THE ATTACK ON MANA POOLS The Attack – Thursday 17th May 1979 Next Morning: 06h00 – 12h00 A list of Parks and other staff at Mana on the night of 17th May SPY PLANE AT CHIPINDA POOLS – Charles Mackie ELECTIONS KILLED ON DUTY

545 Chapter 13 THE RHINO WARS 549 OPERATION STRONGHOLD 556 C O N F I D E N T I A L 566 ANTI-POACHING, MARK BRIGHTMAN’S EXPERIENCE 578 POSTSCRIPT 579 579 581 584 586 593 594

Chapter 14 THE BEGINNING OF THE END TWILIGHT OF THE EMPIRE THE TRAGIC DEATH OF JOHN RALSTON – Mike Bromwich THE ARREST AND DETENTION OF WARDEN WILLIE DE BEER THE GORDIAN NOTT HARASSMENT THE END OF AN ERA

595 GLOSSARY OF TERMS 595 REFERENCES 596 CHANGE OF PLACE NAMES 597 APPENDICES 597 I CALENDAR OF EVENTS 609 II PARKS ROLE IN HOUSE TERTIARY QUALIFICATIONS 613 III 613 IV DANGEROUS DRUG LICENCES PRIVATE PILOT LICENCES 613 V 614 VI HONOURS AND AWARDS 615 VII ROLE OF HONOUR 616 VIII HONORARY OFFICERS 616 IX SCIENTIFIC PAPERS PUBLISHED BOOKS AUTHORED 625 X 626 XI ROBIN HUGHES’S WRITE UP ON THE EARLY HISTORY OF MANA POOLS AND CHEWORE

BEFORE WE FORGET: CONTETNS

349 350 364 381 392 394 397 399 400 404 404 404 404 408 412 413 419 420 420 422 430

FOREWORD

INTRODUCTION

I am honoured to be invited to contribute the Foreword to this fascinating historic document. I am privileged to have known the majority of the characters whose stories are recorded here. To many of us, they have been special people, absolutely dedicated to protecting and conserving the increasingly fragile and vulnerable wild places and wild creatures that form our irreplaceable natural heritage. The reader will be taken through the lives of many of these “Parks people”, their tales of triumph and tragedy, achievement and disappointment, drama, frustration, and mischievous fun. They led very full and interesting lives. The stories of some of their hair-raising and often desperately dangerous interactions with wild animals (and poachers) are the stuff of thrilling real-life outdoor adventure. The personalities of these people have had two common currents coursing through their veins at their chosen workplace: passion, and commitment. The majority of them were assigned to field stations, often in remote and lonely and uncomfortably hot areas. Here their wives and colleagues provided essential support. They “kept the home fires burning”, and did much for the subordinate staff and their families. It is good to see their contributions acknowledged in this narrative. In their infrequent visits to town, these bundu guardians let their hair down and celebrated, often boisterously, with their families and urban colleagues. A sense of humour was essential. I have for many years marvelled at the diverse skills accumulated by the Wardens, Rangers, Ecologists, and Technicians in the Parks areas over which they held sway. Their competence in so many tasks is legendary: they ran the financial and personnel management and administration functions of the station; they carried out repair and maintenance programmes for the plumbing and the water and power supply systems; they also serviced and repaired the station’s vehicles and pumps and motors; they assisted the police in matters of security and law and order; their responsibility for “Problem Animal Control” required them to protect people of the district, and their livestock and crops, from large crop-destroying mammals – especially elephant and buffalo – and from predators such as the big cats, hyena, and crocodiles. Through this function, many of them became extremely efficient hunters. Although always very busy, most of them took a keen interest in the natural world around them. Not only did they learn a great deal about the ecosystems in which they lived; as “Citizen Scientists” they contributed a host of scientific observations to their Ecologist colleagues. On achieving maturity (an arbitrary age), or retiring, or emigrating, officers of the Department automatically joined the distinguished ranks of Daga Boys – roughly translated as irritable old buffalo bulls who are content to spend all day wallowing comfortably in glorious mud! These Daga Boys have accumulated a wealth of experience in wildlife matters, and have over the years contributed much ongoing wisdom to their colleagues and successors. They have provided a substantial quantity of information for this collection of historical material about the Department of National Parks and Wild Life Management. They have been a remarkable bunch – resourceful, resolute, resilient. We salute them. So, before we forget indeed! Their reminiscences and memories have been persuasively and efficiently gathered up by Mike Bromwich and his helpers. It would have been a tragedy if the records of their experiences and contributions had been permitted to slide silently away, neither recorded, nor appreciated. Well done Mike!

Colin Saunders Chairman, Parks and Wildlife Board 1975 - 1987

Some twenty years ago, at the first get-together of a bunch of Old Parks Boys, thereafter known as Dagaboys , the need for a record or book on the Department was mooted and discussed. And, in line with the moment and enthusiasm displayed, stories more amusing than of historic value were recorded. Despite good intentions, little if anything came of the idea until two or three years after the millennium. And even then, many still believed that putting pen to paper was bad for one’s health… A malady spawned in bygone days when rangers certainly agonised over reports for days at a time, and a belief as hard to eradicate as beliefs elsewhere - like rhino horn is an aphrodisiac and cures cancer. By early 2000 most were busy in their new careers and, although the old camaraderie at get-togethers was there, thoughts of the book faded. Newsletters became shorter and finally petered out, which was no fault of the scribes but had much to do with virtual collapse of the Zimbabwe postal service. Mid-2002, and having email and Internet facilities, the tragic death of Oliver Coltman saw me enter the picture. Working in the wildlife industry and having my own laptop gave me access to Dagaboys - now turned professional hunters - and others who were in some way associated with wildlife management. It was a relatively small local network that, over the next few years, expanded to include over 150 Dagaboys across the world; newsletters were once again the norm. As Africa gains her freedom, vestiges of the past are often swept away or revolutionised. Policies and priorities change, new faces replace old, and in a relatively short period of time events of the past are forgotten. With the passing of legendary conservationists such as Ted Davison, Rupert Fothergill, John Tebbit, Bruce Austen and others, a wealth of historic information relating to the Department vanished. I felt this, and the need to establish some form of electronic archive to record events and stories before it was too late. At that point there was no thought to ‘tell it as it was’. That came much later, when information together with photographs trickled, then flowed in and found their way onto my computer and into various box files. Sadly, other senior Dagaboys have died in the interim so the input of Barrie Ball, Clem Coetsee, Frank Junor and Willem de Beer is limited. Being a unique story, many would have liked to see a complete history of the Rhodesia/Zimbabwe National Parks, and this certainly would have been first prize. However, taking into account costs, the time that involvement demanded, and the need to visit six Provincial Offices, eleven National Parks, five major Safari Areas plus the Recreational Parks, Botanical Gardens, Sanctuaries, Head Office, the National Archives and the Research Centres, this was ruled out as too much of an ask for anyone. In place then of pure history, I’ve opted to relate an anecdotal account, and have woven in, among the personal stories and accounts, details of policy, management, policing, and anything else that went into managing this country’s heritage, the wildlife and areas of scenic beauty. With the passing of time memories fade, so some stories may differ slightly or be at odds with what individuals recall; however, it must be emphasised, every effort has been made to verify accounts. Due to the size of the work, the complexity and variation of subject material, all pieces have been edited and in many instances précised. If errors are perceived, these are unintentional. This account is also a tribute to the loyalty and dedication of the men and women, both black and white, who made the Rhodesia/Zimbabwe Department of National Parks and Wild Life Management the finest conservation agency this continent and possibly the world has ever seen. Mike Bromwich Bulawayo May 2014

CHAPTER 1

HOW IT ALL STARTED It took the first half of the 20th Century for colonial Africa to realise that the continent’s rich but vulnerable wildlife needed protection if it was going to survive. Even so, the popular view was that sparsely populated Africa had endless space and resources to exploit. Then came the Second World War, which gave young men something more urgent to shoot at and get excited about than big game. The global nature of the war also popularised foreign lands and simultaneously built huge self-belief in the Allied survivors; any good cause can be won with enough true grit, perseverance and passion. Among these survivors and their sons and daughters were many Rhodesians, convinced their little country was special, and very prepared to make it more so. In the 1950s Rhodesia’s immigrant population had its fair share of war veterans. We now also know that this decade marked the beginning of modern wildlife conservation on the continent. Game wardens were appointed in numbers; the first biologists were employed and ecology was invented in academia. International air travel became a reality and tourism started to look like it might be able to pay the conservation bills one day. Rhodesia had wildlife riches of which most of its population were unaware. But there were a well-informed few who did, and they started taking some very significant decisions. The result of these decisions is the subject of this book. It spans the 30 to 40 years of the ‘60s to the ‘90s, during which some remarkable things happened in wildlife conservation in Rhodesia and, from 1980, Zimbabwe. Sometimes cavalier, usually resourceful, occasionally cautious, but always confident, these men and women made a name for their country, and for their conservation achievements, that will probably never be repeated. Because much of what was achieved, particularly between 1963 and 1985, has since disappeared under the grinding dictatorship of Mugabe’s government, this book serves to record the efforts and achievements of a band of wildlife enthusiasts who rode the conservation wave in Rhodesia, and on into the young Zimbabwe of the 1980s and ‘90s. Along with this record of achievements is an entertaining collection of personal accounts and anecdotes, predominantly first-hand. These stories share a common thread of enthusiasm, energy and creativity, sometimes with pathos, more often laughter. And for the final reckoning, it is a record of what was achieved on the smell of an oil rag. These stories need to be told, to fill the void of virtually non-existent records prior to 1990 and to honour those of our colleagues who are no longer with us, before we forget. •••

CHAPTER 1: HOW IT ALL STARTED

Our story only really starts at the break-up of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland in 1963, but we need to go back a bit further to provide background and context. For a young country, Rhodesia was ridiculously precocious in one respect. In 1902 its founder Cecil Rhodes died and left his Inyanga and Matopos properties to the State as public parks. Although they were not managed as such for some time, they came into being only a few years after South Africa’s first, the Sabi Game Reserve, was proclaimed in 1898 and a mere 30 years after the world’s first National Park, Yellowstone, in 1873. Nothing much happened by way of conservation or tourism in the struggling young colony for the first 20 years. Official recognition was first apparent in November 1926, when Major W.J. Boggie, a Member of the Colony’s first Legislative Assembly, introduced a motion, “That the Government take into consideration at the earliest possible date the advisability of proclaiming a game reserve.” He spoke of the early days when the colony was one of the best countries in the world for hunting, but noted, “... today the game is rapidly disappearing and I maintain that the time has arrived when some sort of game reserve should be started in this country.” Due to it being unsuitable for farming and largely uninhabited, Major Boggie’s attention was drawn to the Wankie area. His enthusiasm was further whetted by a discussion he had with a hunter who had recently returned from there, having shot 170 buffalo and five lions! His motion was accepted, but not without opposition from those who thought it would aggravate the tsetse fly problem, and others concerned about mining and mineral rights. The following year he introduced another more specific proposal to the National Assembly, suggesting the Government should proclaim a Game Reserve, ‘... from the Gwaai Native Reserve

Major W.J. Boggie The first Rhodesian legislator to appreciate the value of wild life and the need to set aside areas of land within which all animals would be protected. ORAFs

at railway mile peg 1,470½ at Ngamo siding, north to mile peg 1,540 and westward to the Bechuanaland border’. Major Boggie emphasised the importance of the country’s wildlife, noting, “... it is one of Rhodesia’s greatest assets.” Supporting his views was Mr ‘Wankie’ Thomson, the General Manager of the Wankie Colliery Company. Together they championed the idea that Rhodesia’s greatest assets were the Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe Ruins and wildlife, and ‘untold millions could be generated by visitors drawn to see the game’. Following a government survey and approval by the Minister of Agriculture, in September 1928 an area similar to that described by Boggie was declared a Game Reserve and Mr E (Ted) Davison appointed as its first game warden. The 25 000 acre game sanctuary of the two Toms Farms on the upper Deka river, owned by H.G. Robins, was initially excluded, but on the owner’s death in 1939 it was bequeathed by him to the State and incorporated into the reserve. Through subsequent acquisitions, including Sinamatella farm, the area now known as Wankie National Park grew in extent to cover 14 651 km². In due course the Natural Resources Board (NRB) came into being in 1942. Humphrey Gibbs, (later, Governor, Sir Humphrey Gibbs) an active conservationist, was one of its early Chairmen. He used this platform to create a committee to recommend the legislative proclamation of the country’s national parks. In 1949 this occurred under the National Parks Act and Wankie Game Reserve, Robins Game Sanctuary, Kazuma Pan and Chimanimani Mountains were declared National Parks. The inclusion of Chimanimani demonstrates that conservation at the start was not directed solely at game animals, but at beautiful wilderness areas as well. This was followed in 1950 by the National Parks Department taking responsibility for the late Basil Christian’s botanical garden at Ewanrigg, and two years later acquiring Victoria Falls and Zimbabwe Ruins from the National Museums. In the same decade, Lake McIlwaine, Sinoia Caves and Umshandike were proclaimed, as were Mtarazi Falls, Vumba Gardens, Ngezi and Sebakwe. Under separate legislation, the Rhodes Matopos and Inyanga Estates, declared in 1902 as Special National Parks, were added to the list but stayed financially independent through special grants. The administrative confusion of the10 years of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland (1953 - 1963) were of little significance to the growing ‘Parks and Wild Life Estate’ in Southern Rhodesia. By way of comparison, both Northern Rhodesia and Malawi had no National Parks created by the time the Federation broke up. For the 10 Federal years the National Parks Department was ably run by Mr Les Stewart MBE, an ex Secretary to the NRB. Towards the end of Stewart’s tenure in 1960, Ted Davison was transferred from Wankie to Head Office into the post of Assistant Director. In 1966, after 38 years’ service, Ted retired with an MBE in recognition of his services to Wankie and Rhodesian conservation.

Rhodesia’s Game Department was formed in 1952

Separate from National Parks, Rhodesia’s Game Department was formed in 1952, with the appointment of Archie Fraser as Game Officer. Initially comprising of a game officer and a clerk, this wildlife agency grew to pioneer its way through the rigours of the 1950s and early ‘60s, becoming the Department of Wild Life Conservation at the turn of the decade. It had a lot to deal with: Operation Noah; countrywide calls for elephant and vermin control, including quelea; the almost impossible implementation of the Game and Fish Preservation Acts, including game and fish surveys. It eventually became a fully-fledged Game Department but, unlike its sister organisation, never became a Federal entity. In contrast to Ted Davison, ‘Founder of Wankie’ and very much a household name in his day, little was known of Chief Game Officer Archie Fraser. Dave Cumming, on the occasion of Archie’s funeral at Warren Hills in November 1999, reveals much of this remarkably far-sighted man and the key role he played in nurturing Rhodesia’s conservation ethic and its adventurous spirit.

Above Left: The Ted Davison John Davison Above Right: Farewell to Wankie Ted Davison’s last day at Main Camp – L/R back row Tony Boyce, Chris Brits, Bruce Austen, Harry Cantle. Seated Tim Braybrooke, Ted Davison, Jordy Jordaan, Fred Starkey and Ron Thomson.

CHAPTER 1: HOW IT ALL STARTED

Left: Government notice No 124 (24th February1928) Establishment of Game Sanctuary, Wankie Native Reserve. Davison Family collection

Below: Archie Fraser – a conservation visionary. Dale Kenmuir Right: Ian Nyschens – elephant hunter extraordinaire – he hunted in odd attire; it is recorded, on occasions he wore nothing more than a loin cloth. Adrian & Odette Lind

Wild Life Conservation Department Badge

Archie Fraser (82) – Excerpts From a Tribute by Dave Cumming: “I first met Archie nearly forty years ago. He was Director of the Southern Rhodesia Department of Wildlife Conservation... that early meeting and the lasting impression of a very kind, thoughtful and caring man, remained clearly imprinted in my mind ... “After the war he returned to government service and went on to make a major and lasting contribution to conservation in Zimbabwe. Archie’s career and the history of wildlife conservation in this country are inextricably intertwined. In 1952 he was appointed the first Game Officer ... with an office in the annex to Chaplin Building. In later years this tiny room became the National Parks radio room. In 1957, five years after Archie started, his Section became the Game Department responsible for all wildlife matters outside of National Parks. Two years later it became the Department of Wild Life Conservation, with Archie as its Director. There is little doubt that the driving force behind this rapid growth was none other than Archie Fraser ... “There were several significant developments during his tenure as Director. He was closely involved in revising and updating the Game and Fish Preservation Act. The legal and policy framework and technical support to allow game ranching to start in a serious way was put in place. Hunting areas were established to meet the increasing local and international demands for sport hunting. These moves provided a sound basis for the later growth of Zimbabwe’s safari hunting

and tourism industry. His (Annual) reports are gems. I have on many occasions had to refer back to them to extract statistics and other historical information… “Archie was the first to employ trained scientists in the conservation field in this country, and in 1958 he appointed Graham Child (who later became Director of National Parks), Frank Junor and Allan Savory. Before this he had recruited several outstanding wardens, including Barrie Ball who went on to become Chief Warden and with whom Archie maintained an enduring friendship. Archie was also the prime architect of Operation Noah, and it is worth noting that his children regarded him as ‘Noah’… “By 1962 the Federation was coming to an end and the Federal Dept of National Parks returned to the Southern Rhodesia Government. By this time Archie was an Under Secretary in the Ministry of Lands and Natural Resources and, at the end of 1963, he oversaw the merger of the Departments of National Parks, and of Wild Life Conservation into the present day Dept of National Parks and Wild Life Management… “The crowning achievement of Archie’s professional career is almost certainly the 1975 Parks and Wildlife Act. This masterful piece of legislation, drafted by Archie Fraser and Ronnie Jack with support from the [Parks & Wildlife] Department, has been the cornerstone of Zimbabwe’s leadership and success in conservation … “After retiring from Government ... he was drawn back into active conservation work

•••

The Game Department’s work in the fifties revolved around game control. In 1956, trying to meet the ever-increasing demands from farmers for control of elephant and other animals causing damage, staff spent 945 man-days in the field and covered 57 000 miles on duty. In this arena Ian Nyschens’ name comes to the fore. Ian, a man with a long and ‘distinguished’ career in many parts of Africa as an elephant poacher was ultimately persuaded to put his skills to better use. He was a fearless hunter who was particularly at home in the tangled jesse thickets of the Zambezi Valley. Ian was a loner and somewhat eccentric, but when ultimately persuaded to put his skills to good use as a game control officer, he proved ideally suited to the task. His life’s stories are well told in the two books he wrote: Months in the Sun and Footsteps of an Ivory Hunter. Such was his love for the Valley that on his death in 2006 he bequeathed his estate to the Ian Nyschens Zambezi Valley Conservation Trust. The widespread publicity given to the animal rescue efforts of Operation Noah on Lake Kariba, saw the eyes of the world focused on the Rhodesian Game Department. This, without doubt, brought huge recognition of the need for conservation and the potential of wildlife-related tourism in Southern Rhodesia. Rescue operations began when the Kariba Dam wall was closed at the end of 1958 and lasted four-and-a-half years. Photographs of ‘Op Noah’ were everywhere and the names of Rupert Fothergill, Tom Orford, Frank Junor, Tinkey Haslam, Barrie Ball and their helpers, became familiar across the world. In all, 4 914 animals were brought to safety, including

Left: Operation Noah – Rescue teams with a rhino in tow make their way to the mainland through flooded Mopane. Bryan Orford

Rupert Fothergill John White

CHAPTER 1: HOW IT ALL STARTED

in his role as a member of the Parks &Wild Life Board and as a member of the Rhodes Inyanga Advisory Committee. In both roles Archie was able to make an outstanding contribution through his wisdom, integrity and great experience in wildlife policy, legislation and the often-mysterious workings of government. I have clear memories of Archie’s very firm stand, in Parks Board meetings, on issues of principle (e.g. against harvesting of dead mukwa [Pterocarpus angolensis, or Kiaat] in Hwange National Park… In 1992 he was awarded the ‘Wildlife Oscar’ for his outstanding contribution to conservation, and many of us will remember his very evident delight in receiving this honour at a colourful ceremony in the Botanical Gardens. “Beyond the rigours of administration and legal drafting there was a lighter side to Archie’s life - an overriding passion for the outdoors and for fishing, which no doubt sustained his passionate contribution to conservation… A keen fisherman to the end, his last trip was at the age of 81 when he went off fishing with Barrie Ball. He will also, I am sure, chuckle at the memory of having to fend off a couple of lions with his fly rod while fishing the Inyanga rivers sometime in the fifties. The unifying thread through Archie’s life was his love of the outdoors and his commitment to conservation ... He made a difference”.

Map: Amalgamation areas under the control of the Department of National Parks and Wild Life Management.

many seldom-seen nocturnal animals like porcupine, antbear and pangolin, plus most notably, 44 black rhino. Rupert Fothergill, who led the operation and was gored by one of them in the process, was awarded an MBE. The capture techniques developed were primitive, and dangerous to both captor and captive, but the experience gained provided the platform from which modern capture techniques developed. At the same time, John Posselt, a fervent believer game was better suited to African conditions than domestic animals, got permission to capture eland from horseback in the Gwaai Forest Reserve. He had identified eland for their meat production potential and, being browsers with excellent carcass characteristics, they did not compete with cattle. They were also known to be gentle, intelligent and gregarious animals and resistant to trypanosomiasis â&#x20AC;&#x201C; ideal for domestication. Their only drawback seemed to be their remarkable jumping ability, having no trouble clearing six-foot game fences. John saw them as a future foundation species for the game ranching industry. (This initiative followed the lead of Russian scientists, who had already domesticated eland for the non-curdling characteristics of their milk!) The results of this domestication initiative are related elsewhere in this volume.

Throughout his detention and during both court appearances, the absence and lack of any National Parks support pained Paul; it was as if he was a pariah. Fuelling these feelings, the Head Office document giving him permission to participate in the cull never materialised either. He felt abandoned by his colleagues as well as the Department. It’s thought that, in the turmoil following the shooting accident and death of Laurie Ryan, the letter of authority was somehow forgotten, and when Paul was detained it was too late to do anything. After his release, armed with all his acquittal and clearances papers, Paul returned to Mabalauta, hoping to be able to leave the station. The army detachment in the area and those guarding his aircraft had other ideas; they scrutinised his papers and told him they were not in order and threatened to shoot him if he touched his aircraft. Left with no alternative, Paul headed back to Masvingo where he was given additional official documentation that confirmed his release and granted him permission to leave Mabalauta. On his return the army reluctantly accepted the new paperwork and cleared him to leave the next day, then departed for their base near Malapati. Fearing the army could not be trusted and would prevent him from leaving even if it meant shooting him down, Paul made plans for a very early departure and arranged for Rob Murray to clear the airfield of game before first light the next morning. Paul took off at four in the morning and, as he gained height, saw vehicle lights heading towards Mabalauta from Malapati. It seemed obvious that the army had heard him running up the 182 engine before takeoff, and were en route to investigate. Instead of flying south and across the border, Paul headed north-west for Harare and landed at Charles Prince Airport some 20 kilometres north of the city, where he planned to stay for the next three days to clear up matters. At the airport he met with a friend of many years, and, in short, Paul was advised not to dawdle about but to refuel, clear Immigration and Customs, and leave Zimbabwe—which is exactly what he did. Nearly thirty years have passed since the days of his incarceration, and Paul, although still harbouring some resentment at the manner in which he was treated, has become more understanding of the situation that was exacerbated by South African destabilisation efforts in the early and mid-‘80s.

Clem Coetsee

CLEM COETSEE On completing his Cambridge University School Leaving Certificate Clem left Chaplin High School in Gwelo and, the day after leaving school, began his apprenticeship with the Central Mechanical Equipment Department (CMED); His father wanted him to pursue a career in banking but, as Clem comments in an interview with Mick Townsend, having learnt the practicalities of vehicle maintenance at school his heart was set on pursuing a career in motor mechanics. He was trained to work on light and heavy transport, heavy earthmoving equipment and completed courses on engine and fuel pump maintenance. After qualifying, Clem joined Midlands Quarries where, after four years and hearing Paul’s stories, he felt the urge to join the Department. At this stage Clem and Emily were married, with two kiddies–Wikus was about three and Beth just on a year. Understandably, Em wasn’t keen, not wanting to be separated from Clem nor have the children attend boarding school; in the end Em agreed to Clem’s pleading to do just three years and then return to his trade! After a very frustrating first week doing nothing but hang about Head Office, Clem was posted to Tsetse Ops under Len Harvey; Paul was his mentor: “For the first four or five months I was with either Paul or Norman Payne (Snr); I was given very good training on hunting elephant and buffalo. I managed to get Barrie Ball to agree to Em and the children accompanying me. Moving camp every two days was not easy on Em, who barely had time to dry the children’s clothes. Even after I had replaced my short-wheelbase Land Rover for a long-wheelbase, and using a trailer, it was still a business to get everything aboard and packed—camping equipment, supplies, fuel, the scouts/trackers with all their kit, plus the ivory from the elephant we shot.

earlier operations in Mana, Clem captured and successfully translocated 56 Lichtenstein’s hartebeest from Gorongoza, under permit from the Portuguese authorities, to the Gonarezhou. From a capture point of view, 1972 was an eventful year in more ways than one—in the first big impala capture at Mana in which a helicopter was used, Clem was flying with an Austrian pilot: “We took off from the headquarters and located a herd of impala; we’d been trying to push them, but obviously he [the pilot] didn’t have a clue and it was my first try as well, so we weren’t too switched on about what to do. He was fairly high and we were still quite a long way from the boma when suddenly the engine started revving up and the helicopter body just started spinning around. What had happened was that the tail rotor gearbox had packed up, and I think the pilot got into a bit of a panic. I could hear him yodelling but there was nothing much he could do anyway. Apparently when that happens, you’ve had it! You lose all your torque. “Anyway, I remember vividly just thinking about fire and fuel, because the tanks are right above your head. The chopper came down on its right-hand side and the fuel tank above me broke loose and shot off. There was nothing left of the helicopter. I got out and ran straight through where the bubble and wreckage was; the tail was caught up in a bit of jesse. It came down really hard. The whole time, I just thought of fire. As the rotor stopped, I just went. I was probably about 70 meters from the helicopter when I heard shouting. So I ran back, and the pilot was still hanging in his harness. “His fuel tank was alight—I didn’t have a knife and still don’t know how I managed to break him out of his harness and drag him some 60 yards away. He was on fire, he had a nylon shirt and socks on, and they were all melting; the skin on his arms was just hanging and the tips of his ears were gone.” The pilot survived, but gave up flying, and Clem was awarded the Meritorious Conduct Medal for brave and gallant conduct over and above the call of duty. From Mana, Clem returned to Matusadona, where he spent some seven years before his posting to Wankie in 1978 as Warden Wankie Management Unit. He was resourceful before, but this paled as he took responsibility for the unit that ultimately would operate across the length and breadth

CHAPTER 2: THE DAGABOYS

Anyway we managed, and we both enjoyed it.” Late in 1967 Clem was transferred to Matusadona and based at Maronga, in Lofty Stokes’ camp on the edge of the escarpment, where he continued to do control work in the neighbouring Tribal Areas. His tenure in Matusadona was however short, being limited to just on a year before he was posted to Marongora where he took charge of the Urungwe Controlled Hunting Area, and later the Chewore Game Reserve and the Nyakasanga CHA. “In those days rhino were everywhere and you would bump into them every single day - and not just once, sometimes two or three times in a day! Rhino were so common I had a rhino horn as a doorstop for every door in my house. You picked up a rhino horn in the field, brought it in, took it to your house and used it as a doorstop; it was normal and no one worried! I had a nature table in those days where I had chips of ivory; it was the same— you picked up a piece of ivory, just brought it in and you put it on your nature table—I had visitors, directors, all those kinds of people come to visit who would admire the nature table, look at everything including the rhino horn, the ivory chips and no-one ever fussed!” It was with Paul in 1968, then Warden Marongora and later to share leadership with Ron Thomson in the first major rhino capture exercises, that Clem had his first experience in the darting and translocation of two rhino out of an area due for resettlement; as was shown in later years, Paul was an apt tutor. Around this same time a competent hunter was required to clear buffalo out of the Chipinga A area and remnant pockets of elephant from the surrounding ranches. Clem was earmarked for the task and, to have operational base, to take over the Birchenough Bridge Field Station. But somehow the move was nullified and he was given control of Mana where, over the next few years several large management exercises involving elephant, buffalo and impala were undertaken. 1971 saw Clem, Tony Ferrar and Willem de Beer visit Natal Parks to observe Jan Oelefse’s plastic boma capture method and the following year, after a rather indifferent eland capture exercise at McIlwaine National Park, Clem was tasked to purchase woven plastic sheeting as well as the cable, winches and other equipment to make up the ‘kit’ for boma capture. That same year, with boma capture techniques having been honed in

of Rhodesia. At Umtshibi, the Management headquarters, his talents, ingenuity and capabilities really came to the fore. “Some years we were probably away from Umtshibi for more than seven months; we would pack and go. The vehicles we developed for the culling operations were ex-army—RLs and RMs (military configured Bedford fivetonners). Scrounging Leyland and Ford engines, we converted to diesel and modified the trucks to our needs; I think by the time I left we had something like eight four-wheel drives; a fairly good, reliable fleet that we could use.” Across the Parks Estate in the latter years of the war, efforts were concentrated on security as apposed to management; as a result there was quite some catching up to do, particularly in areas where large game animals could be found–Wankie, the Gonarezhou and Mana. Prior to ‘Operation Stronghold’ (the rhino war and translocation exercises) most of Clem’s work revolved around culling and the reduction of large numbers of elephant. He ran an exceptionally efficient unit which was tasked, on more than one occasion, to handle the whole cull, which entailed the post-cull recovery of carcasses– skin, meat and ivory–and was something normally put out to contract; Clem showed it could be done! Clem’s diaries, reports and notes, meticulously kept from the time he joined the Department, were inadvertently destroyed in 2008; accurate records of his rhino capture operations in the Lower Valley covering the period 1984 to1987 were irreplaceably lost. Time Magazine (September 7, 1987) reads: “Since 1984 the teams have relocated nearly 240 animals to safer game reserves and fenced-in ranches. On one recent morning, Clem Coetsee head of the capture unit, set out with his men to bag their seventy fifth rhino of the three month dry-weather capturing season.” Zimbabwe is indeed indebted to the dedication of Clem, Mike La Grange and the resolute anti-poaching teams–without their efforts there would be no rhino in Zimbabwe today. Following intense harassment, arrest, and warnings from his loyal staff that he should leave, Clem resigned in December 1987; his last task was to escort six black rhino to Swaziland

Clem Coetsee was one of Africa’s most respected game conservationists.

and return with four white. It would be an injustice not to touch on Clem’s post-Department days, and his pioneering work on the capture and translocation of family units of elephant. On his retirement Clem relocated to Triangle, and set up his own commercial capture/game management operation. In 1992, one of the worst droughts in living memory, Clem, whose expertise was well known, was contracted to capture selected species–buffalo, hartebeest, sable, nyala, zebra and elephant which were further down the prioritised ‘to do’ list. Despite the fact that many animals were rescued, the whole exercise turned into a debacle, due to political interference. However, still working within his original mandate to move elephants to Conservancies, Clem worked on, and perfected a technique to move entire family units. In all, some 650 elephant were saved from certain starvation in the Gonarezhou and relocated, 250 went to the Madikwe Game Reserve in South Africa. Clem passed away on the 4th of September 2006. Excerpts of the tribute in the London Times on the 23rd of September 2006: Obituary — Andries ‘Clem’ Coetsee — Game warden who pioneered methods for relocating elephants and rhinos to safe reserves across Southern Africa Clem Coetsee was one of Africa’s most respected game conservationists. Although in the early stages of his career as a gamekeeper he had to cull about 15,000 elephants, he hated doing it and killed them as quickly and humanely as possible. Their numbers in the national parks of what was then Rhodesia were threatening to grow uncontrollably, after which they would eat and smash their habitat before starving to death. It was a personal triumph for Coetsee, therefore, when he developed a technique of drug darting, crating and transporting fullgrown elephants, and later whole families, as an alternative to culling them. He also rescued many thousands of other animals, from tiny klipspringer antelope to rhinoceros and buffalo that he captured from overstocked or poacherthreatened environments and moved to more secure homes. Soon after independence in 1980 an onslaught of poachers in the Zambezi Valley ravaged its 2,000 black rhino, Africa’s last sustainable population of the endangered species. Coetsee’s team snatched the 300 survivors to guarded conservancies.

In 1985 he was awarded a citation by the WWF for his expertise in both capture and culling, in which it said: “He has few, if any, superiors anywhere in Africa.” Such skills came at a price: on different occasions a rhino gored him, smashing his ribs; he was pulled out of his sleeping bag by a hungry hyena; he was knocked down by an elephant bull, kicked by a giraffe and had a narrow escape from a rogue lion. President Mugabe’s land grab in 2000 pushed squatters on to his ranch in Chiredzi in the Lowveld. Under constant harassment, Coetsee gave up the ranch three years ago and kept only the homestead. Last December a local ruling party grandee smashed his gate, parked a caravan immediately in front of the house and dumped furniture on his veranda. His battles with belligerent officialdom were a sad end to his life of service to Africa. Andries “Clem” Coetsee, wildlife expert, was born on May 13, 1939. He died from a heart attack on September 4, 2006, Age: 67.

Dave Cumming

CHAPTER 2: THE DAGABOYS

DAVID CUMMING David was born in Pietermaritzburg, Natal, in 1939 and his parents moved to Pretoria during the war. In 1947 his family immigrated to Southern Rhodesia when his father joined the then Department of Native Agriculture and was posted to Tjolotjo where they lived for the next 13 years. His school days, as a boarder, were spent at Milton Junior and Senior Schools. School holidays were spent happily in the bush, in what was then the Gwaai Reserve, collecting birds for museums, ringing birds and engaging in taxidermy, falconry, and photography. While at senior school he had a special relationship with the National Museum in Bulawayo and most Monday afternoons were spent there helping with skinning specimens collected the previous weekend, or going over the road to the National Free Library. All of which laid the foundations for a lifelong interest in biology and wildlife. Partners in crime at this stage were Basil Williamson and Gerry Davison. Rugby was also a passion and he played scrum half for Milton’s 1st XV in 1956-57 and for Matabeleland Midlands Schools on a tour of the Eastern Cape in 1957. A Matric Exemption and a Tobacco Research Board Bursary provided the opportunity to study entomology at Rhodes University—in those days there were jobs for entomologists, but not for wildlife biologists, and this was a way of funding his university education. Three university vacations spent counting aphids on tobacco plants at Kutsaga cured him of wanting to become an economic entomologist, and after graduating in Zoology and Entomology in 1961, he joined the Federal Ministry of Agriculture as a Fisheries Research Officer based at Henderson Research Station. After 18 months he left Fisheries to try his hand at teaching at St Stephen’s College where he spent two terms, and met up with several future members of Parks staff, including Billy Howells, Steve Mitchell, Rich Aylward, Barry Duckworth and Nevin Lees-May, to name a few. After a spell of relief teaching while looking for a research post he was finally appointed as a Research Officer in the then new department of National Parks & Wild Life Management in 1964. He was immediately posted to Sengwa to set up, with Gerry Davison who was in the Tsetse Department, a temporary field station—the intended 18- month posting ended up being 12 years. Meg, who had studied zoo and ento with him at Rhodes and lived in Cape Town, joined him at Sengwa in July 1966 and settled in happily as a bush-wife. Their three children, Jonathan, Beth and Graeme, all spent their early childhood at Sengwa and retain their passion for the outdoors. Early days at Sengwa were focused on game-tsetse research. Warthogs were the primary host of tsetse fly and their ecology and behaviour formed the subject of Dave’s doctoral thesis, which was submitted in 1970. At the end of 1976 he was transferred to Head Office and in 1977 took over from Roelf Attwell as Chief Ecologist. After ten years in this post he spent a short while as Deputy Director in 1986-87. One of the things that pleased him most about his period as Chief Ecologist was that the graduate qualifications of staff members in the Branch were strengthened from a single PhD (himself) to eight PhDs and eight MSc’s.

Wankie under Ted Davison Tim Braybrooke on patrol Tim Braybrooke

Patrol night stop â&#x20AC;&#x201C; saddles properly stored, firearms to hand and accessible in the dark, a paraffin lamp and a comfortable stretcher complete with bedroll â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Tim maintained an orderly camp. Tim Braybrooke

HORSE POWER - A DIFFERENT KIND OF 4X4 HORSES, PACK DONKEYS AND TOURISTS IN THE SADDLE Horse patrols originated in Wankie under the wardenship of Ted Davison; the duration of mounted patrols varied in the early days from about five to twenty days in extent, with pack mules and donkeys carrying animal fodder, food and camping equipment. Losing a horse or a pack animal to lions, or for any other reason, was totally out of the question – it was not allowed to happen. Horses were later used in the Rhodes Matopos and Kyle National Parks and at Mabalauta in the southern sector of the Gonarezhou. Unfortunately, over the years following amalgamation, horses were used less and less. Although many from the old school had spent days on horseback, relatively few wardens were keen advocates of mounted patrols. Much depended on individuals – in the early ‘70s Tim Braybrooke reintroduced extended horse patrols during his tenure as Warden, Main Camp. Derek Williams kept them going for a while, thereafter they stuttered along for a few years and, in the end, station horses were used more for pleasure than anything else. At a tangent to the above, Paul Read and Tim Paulet introduced horseback safaris to Kyle Recreational Park and Rhodes Inyanga as an alternative to game viewing by vehicle or hiking in Inyanga; both operations were extremely successful under their leadership and for some years thereafter. Long Ago - Jordy Jordaan In my days at Wankie, mounted patrols under Ted Davison were normally about ten days in duration, but this varied with the task at hand. With few vehicles and primitive roads, it took about four days to get from Main Camp to the Botswana border by horse patrol. Two game scouts accompanied me, with a bush-wise tracker or two and a herdsman to take care of the pack animals - two mules and four or five donkeys. The mules, being stronger, carried heavier loads, fodder for the animals and most of my kit. The donkeys carried staff food, tents, ground sheets, cooking utensils and so on. The entire region of Wankie, including Kazuma Pan, was covered during the course of these patrols; covering over 200 kilometres of the Botswana border with hardly a kopje (hill) or a river to provide a landmark. Our routes mainly followed elephant paths that wove through the flat sandy landscape like a spider’s web, linking all the pans and the shallow drainage lines in the south of the Park that ran between those low ‘fossil’ Kalahari dunes. From Robins, I mainly covered the western half of the Park from the north, right down to the Nata River and from time to time back to Main Camp. The return leg to Robins took us through the Park to the Botswana border up to Pandamatenga or via Dandari Pan. Due to my tracker getting lost, a five-day patrol in October once lasted ten days... In the heat of that suicide month we nearly died of thirst and I was pushed to seriously think of drinking mule urine. We found water eventually in a pan we named Masiza, meaning ‘saviour’. As we had taken only enough food for five days, I had to shoot a warthog to keep us going, but that was no help for the animals. My horse was too weak to carry me and I was at a point of near-delirium, blindly following him until we found water a second time. Later, a tracker and I developed kidney stones as a result of this dehydration.

My horse was too weak to carry me ...

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Bond Between Man and Beast - Richard Aylward August 1970 saw me on a three-week horse patrol, moving south along the eastern Wankie boundary. We, (game scouts, trackers and the “donkey boy” with the patrol donkeys and a horse), were camped at Mandiseka Pan. Vigilance came with darkness when, far from relaxing and sleeping, everyone was on duty. Lions usually kept everyone, including the animals, awake till dawn, when sunrise brought a calming effect over the animals and the constant stamp of feet and a need to stoke up fires came to an end. But now it was late afternoon as I climbed into my canvas patrol bath and the staff rounded up the animals for the night. I was pretty content until the usual whistling and shouting to get the animals together suddenly intensified. I looked around to see the horse heading off down the track, westwards into the setting sun, with its mane blowing in the wind… typical of the end to a western movie, but at the time nothing was further from my thoughts.

Wankie National Park. Richard and Stan’s boundary patrols.

My heart sank. Stepping out of the bath, I put on my ‘vellies’ (veldskoen shoes) without socks, pulled on my shorts, forgot about a shirt, grabbed the .375 rifle and ran off to join the chase. The runaway horse headed north towards Madundumela and so did we. We tracked the runaway until the light faded, then camped on the spoor, with no food or shelter. It was one of the coldest nights I have ever experienced, spent shirtless on a ridge of white Kalahari sandveld. Despite covering myself with Lonchocarpus capassa leaves and a fire burning on either side of me, sleep was impossible - it was bitterly cold, which is so typical of a winter’s night on the Kalahari sands. During the night we heard lions calling from the direction we were headed. So, cold and uncomfortable, I found myself hoping luck would be on our side, that the horse would be eaten and the patrol could continue without the troublesome animal! That did not happen. The next day the spoor continued into the Linkwasha area and eventually to Samavundhla. For most of the day we had kept the horse in sight; we would close to about a hundred and fifty metres before he would take off; time and time again he did this, never allowing us to get any closer. The whole day was spent following him in this manner! At Samavundhla the horse by-passed the pan; we did not. Hunger, thirst and fatigue took us straight to the pump attendant’s tin hut, and it was here we decided to leave the horse to get back to Main Camp on its own.

After consuming most of the attendant’s rations of sadza and beans and just as we were preparing to bed down for the night, on meal sacks for bedding and blankets, we spotted the horse returning to the pan. It was obviously thirsty too! We ran out to catch him but once again he eluded us. One of the scouts suggested that if the horse returned a second time, we should let him drink before attempting to catch him. The horse returned and the scout’s plan worked. That night he was well tethered to a mitswiri tree and the next morning we set off again for Mandiseka. I rode him bareback for the return trip and for three days regretted having done so. By hobbling the horse during grazing time, we completed the patrol without further incident. However, it should be mentioned that the “rider/horse” bond was never re-established.

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Long Range Transport – Stan Elliott Horse patrols were conducted on a fairly regular basis during the late sixties and into the seventies. These were generally of about twenty-five days’ duration. The longest I did, however, amounted to an outing of forty-five days. On this occasion two horses were used and, as considerably more food had to be carried, ten donkeys were used as against the normal five; the lead donkey was a jack named Mbangwa. On all my patrols I was accompanied by a Masili bushman tracker by the name of Rogers, who taught me a great deal about medicinal and edible plants. With the stables, tack rooms and other facilities at Main Camp, most patrols originated there. The first task was to select the animals, the numbers depending on the duration of the patrol. Pack saddles were checked and repaired, horse food, maize meal, rations and all camping gear would all be laid out and evenly distributed into loads. On a normal twenty-five day patrol one horse would be sufficient, and I generally rode my own Boerperd mare; on the forty-five day patrol, a second horse was taken. Richard Aylward normally rode a big plodder by the name of Big Boy who needed considerable encouragement to push him into a trot; he also used to doze off on the job, tripping over objects in his path. Richard used a crop or small switch to tap him between the ears to keep him awake. Barrie Duckworth used a feisty gelding called Rusty who hated getting vines or anything caught between his back legs, causing a sharp reaction. Before my own horse arrived, I rode him as well. I used Maritz, another gelding, as my second mount on the extended patrol. Of the donkeys, Mbangwa was always the lead donkey of choice; he seemed to be familiar with most areas in the park and never fussed or played up about the game we came across. Generally I rode ahead of the pack animals and carried an old vintage .455 Webley & Scott revolver to discourage any lion that showed an unhealthy interest in the horse. I did quite a number of patrols and can only recall one occasion where it was necessary to fire a couple of shots over a pride to get them to move off. Behind me came the donkeys, in the company of two or three scouts, the donkey boy, a camp guard-cum-cook and Rogers brought up the rear. On arrival at our destination each day we would select a suitable campsite, preferably with a clear all round view, a small stand of trees for shade and to tether the animals. To avoid disturbing game we never camped too close to pans, preferring to base up a couple of hundred metres or so from the water. At night we slept in a circle with a central cooking fire, and maintained smaller fires between the scouts, labourers and the tethered donkeys. I always slept next to my horse. One night at Kennedy, I was up for the best part of the night, calming both my horse and the donkeys as a pride of lions stampeded a herd of wildebeest around the camp, killing three in the process. The closest kill, which the lions chose to feed on, was about 75 yards from the camp; the growling, snarling and other feeding noises made all the animals extremely nervous. The pride, we later found out, was thirteen strong. Mounted patrols had their ups and downs; most were incredibly interesting and enjoyable, but every now and again something would upset the applecart. Once, while out walking through the area around Jozivanini Pan, the scouts, Rogers and I returned to find the horses had taken off, but not the donkeys. We had no indication why they had gone, but they both made it back to Main Camp with Maritz having a deep scratch on his right hindquarter for his troubles. We completed the patrol on foot, with the donkeys now carrying the saddle, bridle and remainder of the horse food. On another outing I went from Guvalala to Nehimba Springs, only to find it dry. We made

camp anyway and the following morning decided to carry on to Lememba, arriving at about 4pm, only to find that that spring had dried up too. Rather than return to Nehimba and Guvalala, we decided to press on to Shabi Shabi, which was also dry! We set up camp and, while looking round the area, Barrie Duckworth’s dog Chaka - that I was looking after - killed a bat-eared fox. With no water and this being the only meat in camp, it was duly cooked over the coals and eaten. It would never have been my choice of menu, but suffice it to say that very little remained when we set off for Tamafupa the next day. Although Tamafupa, too, was dry, we camped there and set off the following morning for Tamasanka on the Botswana border. We had now been without water for three days. An hour or so before noon, my mare began showing a great deal more interest in life than on the previous few days. There was water at Tamasanka but, with all the game from the surrounding areas and into Botswana drinking there, it was the colour of tea. We only allowed the animals a small amount of water at a time, which meant leading them backwards and forwards to the pan till their thirst had been fully quenched. In an effort to obtain cleaner water, we dug a hole some distance from the pan, but despite endless efforts of filtering we could not get rid of the dark stain. With the animals needing time to recover, we spent several days at Tamasanka. I learnt a lot from Rogers on these extended patrols; he was an amazing tutor. I once had veld sores on the back of my leg that refused to heal, despite applying various ointments and patent remedies. Rogers cut small pieces of bark from a cork bush, Mundulea sericea, and bound these onto the sores. In a few days they had disappeared. Stomach problems arise for a variety of reasons, drinking dirty water being the main one. Rogers made an infusion from Russet bushwillow seeds (Combretum hereroense) and within a short time the problem had cleared. I still use this remedy and helped many other people with it too. It was not unusual to see Rogers with turtles hanging from his trouser loops, which he’d caught in the various shallow pans we visited. Once killed, he would pour boiling water over them and scrape off the foul-smelling glutinous substance that resulted. They were then boiled in salt water for about 30 minutes, removed, turned on their backs and the flat belly shell cut away, exposing the legs and other body parts to be eaten. This way, turtles were actually very palatable. A favourite dish while out in the bush was kove kove, also known as kove hai. To start with, you needed a fresh lion kill, then, after driving the lions off, you stole a chunk off the carcass. The meat was cut into thin strips before being placed in a bucket of hot salt water to soak for a while, and then hung out in the shrubbery to dry. Once dry, the meat would be cut into small pieces and boiled for the best part of a day before being pounded with the back of an axe into a fibrous mass. This was then fried in oil or preferably, if available, fresh bone marrow, often from the same source! On occasion tomato sauce or other flavourings found their way into the dish. We ate the kove kove as a relish for the sadza, which was always our basic foodstuff on patrol. I only ever ate tortoise once for an evening meal and the only portion not eaten, apart from the shell, was the heart, which Rogers took away and buried. Tortoise was also very palatable. Rogers certainly had an endless knowledge of what could or could not be eaten, including dozens of plants to add as a relish. He regularly produced honey from the tiny Mopane bee nests and from another larger bee found mainly in mixed teak woodland. After the effort and experiences of a horse patrol it was always good to get back to camp, offload the animals and give them a final check-over for sores and rub marks. Then, after reporting back to the warden and a welcome shower, it was off to the Waterbuck’s Head for a couple of beers and chat with your mates. The patrol report could be written in the morning. Horses For Courses – Linda Crafter (nee Read) For those who knew my dad Paul and his love for horses, it was no surprise when he was posted to Birchenough Bridge in the late ‘60s, to hear him talking excitedly about the wild horses of Devuli Ranch. These were descendants of the original stock of twelve Arab x American Saddle horses brought from Kimberley by Lucas Bridges when Devuli was first occupied as a cattle ranch. Once Bridges left, the horses were seldom used and with time they became wild, fending for themselves. Over the years numbers built up and a stock of hardy animals soon roamed the wilds of Devuli. They were a scarred and scruffy lot, with maimed legs from snares and minus the odd ear or tail from festering tick bites. Paul thought he could catch some of them to supply other

endless patience and was a master at this task. In the end, we kids could crawl around Sam’s feet and he never turned a hair. Sam was not only Paul’s pride and joy but his favourite horse to ride too. Being immensely strong and fast and not easy to control, everyone else was scared to ride him. Ranger Nick Drew, who himself was a pretty fair horseman, agreed to ride Sam in a race at the Chipinga Gymkhana. Sam started the race in an explosive gallop, bucking wildly, with Nick trying his utmost to stay on his back – before long Nick was on the ground with a broken arm and Sam finished the race without him! When Paul was promoted in 1969 and moved to Kyle where Doug Newmarch was also

scouts to handle horses and to ride. The wide Sabi riverbed was an excellent place to manage a troublesome horse; labouring in the thick sand, the horses were unable to go too fast, and if they really played up and bucked you off, deep river sand is a great place to land. As a child I remember crossing the Sabi on several occasions when the water was low. It looked quite benign from a distance, but the wet sand sucked at the horse’s hooves making it very difficult to move and some horses hated it and panicked. One horse in particular caught Paul’s eye, a well-muscled stallion with a distinct line of white hair around his neck, which was thought to be from a snare. “Sam” was gelded shortly after being captured and it took months of gentle coaxing to break him in. Paul had

stationed, he was allowed to take his horses with him. Under Paul’s guidance, they built a whole block of stables with a tack room and feed store, just behind the workshop and office complex. There was stabling for 14 horses and with Doug Newmarch also being a riding enthusiast he backed Paul’s ideas to provide horse trails for visitors, which began in 1974. In the early days of horse trails there were a few tense moments with rhinos. There were thirty-odd white rhino in the Park and most had never seen a horse. Being chased by a rhino was not fun, as they tended to keep going for several kilometres; the important thing was to stay on your horse. On one occasion during an afternoon outing, three rhino, one with a calf, started to chase as a group. Some of the riders were inexperienced, and it took

Below Left: Paul Read with some of the horses he captured on Devuli Ranch Read family collection

Below Right: Sam being broken in – Scout Mandave casually holding the rope as Sam lets off steam in the lunging ring at Birchenough Bridge. Read family collection

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stations that wanted them and ran his ideas past his Regional Warden, Doug Newmarch. Doug quickly agreed and gave him the go-ahead to ask Devuli management, who were most obliging. Tinkey Haslam, Warden Mabalauta, was keen to use horses for patrol work. He captured a number of horses on Devuli but, unlike Paul, he darted them like game animals and trucked them to Mabalauta in a sedated condition. Paul’s horses were captured in bomas where the best could be selected for transporting to the field station where they would be tamed and broken in. Paul, apart from teaching Joan and us children to ride, also taught many of the game

Paul and ranger Ian Salt quite some work to keep ahead and to avoid an incident. The rhinos chased the horses right up to the HQ fence where they proceeded to smash up the gate, which was somewhat unusual behaviour. With time, the rhino got used to the horses and incidents decreased. Buffalo were not particularly interested in the horses but nevertheless required watching. On one ride, when Paul was out with a group that included my younger brothers, Adrian and Gary, they were suddenly confronted by a bad-tempered old buffalo bull. The animal turned on the riders, who once again were none too experienced; fortunately the boys were able to draw the enraged buffalo’s attention away from the rest of the group and onto themselves – what followed was a hair-raising chase that continued for some time through thick bush before the buffalo finally gave up. Kyle’s National Park status was later changed to that of a Recreational Park but not much changed as far as management or visitors were concerned. In fact, if anything, the pony trails grew

With time, the rhino got used to the horses ...

Paul Read leading a horse trail at Kyle. After a while, and even at this distance, neither rhino, horse nor man feels threatened Read family collection

in status and became a feature of this relatively small 7 600 hectare Park. Tim Paulet, Warden of Rhodes Inyanga National Park, saw potential there for horses, both for patrol work and trails. They were a success there too prior to the war closing down the operation. Donkey Trails in Elephant Country – Mike Bromwich Credit must go to Tom Orford for pioneering wilderness donkey trails in the Mabalauta area of the Gonarezhou. Following his return to the station as Warden in late 1971, Tom talked constantly about the area being suitable for donkey trails. It was a real mission for him, and in 1973 his ideas started to materialise. The trails were initially run on an experimental basis, but from the first outing they proved to be extremely popular. There was a ready demand for this type of outdoor experience. Tom ran three-day trails taking guests through the heart of the area, centred on Buffalo Bend and the Nuanetsi River. Numbers were restricted to a maximum of six trailists to keep the group flexible and mobile. The area was tough and hot and stiff with elephants and buffalo, not forgetting the odd pride of lions. Children were not permitted. The trails were designed to give visitors a real wilderness experience and provide insight into wildlife and conservation. They were conducted in the main by Tom himself, ably assisted by Senior Scout Mece (pronounced Mac) Machavana, an impressive locally raised Shangaan and an incredibly knowledgeable naturalist. It was a good combination. The donkeys carried the camping

gear and provisions, escorted by three armed game scouts and a handler whose responsibility it was to care for, water and feed these quiet, compliant animals. They walked directly to the overnight campsites, separately from the trailists who followed at their own pace wherever their guide found things of most interest. Wildlife was tracked and stalked up close; birds, trees, crocs and butterflies were all presented and identified, together with bush lore and other stories. The whole trail environment delivered a wonderfully enjoyable and informative experience. Elephants were on occasions too close for comfort, which was not really desirable due to the truculent nature of cows in their breeding herds. It was not too bad in the open near the river, but in the Msimbiti, or ironwood thickets, it certainly got the adrenalin pumping. It was unfortunately necessary on two occasions to

Above: A good team Mece Machavana and Tom Orford Bryan Orford Below: Scouts and donkeys skirt round an Msimbiti thicket as camp is moved to the night stop Bryan Orford

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shoot aggressive animals steaming down on the party beyond the danger limit. This was something Tommy always tried desperately to avoid. After a couple of years all available trails were booked out. They were so successful that the Director in his 1975 Annual Report noted: “It is hoped that it will be possible to expand this programme in the future and extend it to other areas.” But this vision was never given a chance. 1976 saw the security situation deteriorate in the South East and the Gonarezhou was closed to tourists. Hoping to continue with wilderness trailing, the operation was moved to Robins Camp and all the pack saddles and camping equipment were sent up to Wankie. One or two donkey trails were run out of Robins under the watchful eye of Tim Wellington, another ideally suited ranger, but this too was closed later the same year. After the war and following Independence, with too many other matters to attend to, wilderness donkey trails were not resuscitated. PATROL REPORT – Senior Scout Petros On the 18/06/82 we were detailed by Warden Conway to go to Mandiboni area with Game Scout Nemangwe Wilson and Ranger Adams in connection with lions catching cattle in the Communal Area. We reached there approximately at 10:30 pm and we slept at Mandiboni Pan. On the 19/06/82 early in the morning we saw a one-day-old lion’s spoor at our base and then went to the kraals asking about the lions. At the kraals we found that the lions had arrived at night and there was fresh spoor. We then tracked the lion’s spoor; at 10.30 hrs we found them

SERVICE HONOURS FOR STAFF There were no standards laid down originally for the requisite number of staff per unit area to effectively control a piece of wildlife land. More recently a figure of one scout to 100kms² comes to mind, but whether that was soundly based and to what extent it was implemented are not known. In comparison to the size of the total Parks Estate, our field scout force was small, possibly in total just over 350. It says much for the calibre of these men that well in excess of 20 received official Government recognition via awards and decorations during the troublesome years. The Rhodesia Badge of Honour A Bronze Medal for long service and devotion to duty in Government, Municipal or Private Service. Senior Scout Zephania Muketiwa – for outstanding work in the field of anti-poaching, for accumulating more than a thousand arrests. Senior Scouts : Kapesa (retd. 1974); Manwere (Marongora): Runovuya (Inyanga NP); Remegius (Inyanga NP); Sgt George Sidhlohlo (Main Camp); Sgt Mahoboti (Robins – Wankie NP) It is appropriate to record M.P. Chipango’s service of 54 years as handyman in the Vumba Botanical Reserve; also awarded this honour. Regrettably the list of recipients is not complete. Medal for Meritorious Service (M.S.M) – Civil Division – A Silver Medal for resource and devotion to duty, or exemplary voluntary service to the community. Senior Scouts: Keni Kasaruro; Feresi; and Samson and Sgt Buyotsi. Game Scouts: Mabuso; Naison; Siluchili; Wilfred and Tapera. Member of the Legion of Merit (M.L.M.) – A Silver on Bronze Cross for distinguished service to Rhodesia – awarded to Senior Scout Keni Kasaruro Citations for Senior Scout Keni Kasaruro With two distinguished awards, Keni was the most highly decorated member of staff in the Department. It is fitting to record his two citations:

... in excess of 20 received official Government recognition

Citation - Member of Legion of Merit (M.L.M.) 15.09.1978 “For a number of years Senior Scout Keni has been stationed in a sensitive area and has been involved in numerous incidents with terrorists. He has shown conspicuous courage, resourcefulness and determination beyond the call of duty.”

Citation - Meritorious Service Medal (M.S.M.) 11.11. 1976 “For brave and gallant conduct over and above the call of duty in a non-combatant role. On the 13th of June 1975, at Mana Pools, Rangers Jones and Winhall trod on and detonated an anti-personnel mine. At the time of the incident Sergeant Keni showed bravery and complete disregard for his own safety by immediately dashing into the area of the explosion and pulling both rangers clear. He then showed initiative and presence of mind in applying limited first aid and taking complete command of the entire situation. Both rangers stated that it was largely due to Sergeant Keni’s efforts that the injury sustained by Ranger Jones did not prove fatal.”

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CHAPTER 4: GAME SCOUTS & TRACKERS

Sergeant Manwere, Recipient of the Rhodesia Badge of Honour â&#x20AC;&#x201C; one of the original scouts in the Game Department who worked with Archie Fraser and Dave Rushworth on elephant control. Graham Child

Senior Scout Keni receiving the M.L.M. from Acting President Pithey Dave Scammell

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GAME SCOUTS IN RESEARCH – Dave Cumming Game scouts played a vital role in a wide range of fieldwork as research assistants at research stations around the country. They also often helped to tabulate and summarise raw data from field records in the days before computers. At Sengwa, for example, scouts participated in game capture operations that involved warthogs (more than 500 Middle Row – Obert Mafuka, Sandron Chete, George between 1966 and 1976), impala, kudu, elephants and lions. They also Rabson, Whiskey Gwandu, Freddie Chitovi, Sgt Faku, Samson Marufu, Sgt Madikwai Shoko. assisted in radio-tracking animals fitted with radio transmitters. For elephants, this involved taking radio fixes on animals from base stations Front Row – Senior Ranger Ed Ostrosky and Senior Scout every four hours day and night for a few days at a time. Over a period Gaiyai (Little Manweri) Ed Ostrosky of nearly thirty years, they regularly walked the 60 kilometres of game transects and, between them, covered a distance of more than twice around the earth at the Equator. Some scouts on field stations became experts in identifying plants and maintaining herbaria. Zaccheus Mahlangu, who served at Sengwa as a Game Scout and Senior Scout from 1966 to 2006, became an outstanding field botanist. His ability to identify woody plants at any stage of growth and in any season was amazing. He meticulously maintained the herbarium at Sengwa and, even after he retired, assisted in several field projects with David Cumming and his research students from the University of Cape Town and the University of Zimbabwe. These projects examined woody vegetation and various aspects of biodiversity on and around large termitaria, both at Chizarira National Park and Lake Chivero Game Park. This research could not have been carried out without Zaccheus’s expertise in identifying plants, resulting in his joint-authorship of several scientific papers. It is noteworthy that Rodwell Ngwarai, who completed his ‘A Levels’ by correspondence and the Certificate in Field Ecology while he was at Sengwa, later rose to become Chief Warden of the Department. Oliver Coltman’s farewell. Marongora Scouts 1980 – Back Row: L/R – Tafuma Randa, Agrippa Nhamo, Millias, Benson Chidamare, John Siasalula, Zeke Lamek, Jovera Million, Mbuiwa, Nyakashaya Towul, Musaka, Manuel Jeri, Sgt. Julius Mashatini.

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2003 - Zaccheus Mahlangu and David Cumming on a botanical field trip with M.Sc. students Meg Cumming

PORTRAITS OF A FEW Almost every game scout is due mention in one way or another, be it Scout Gian who, as noted earlier, cycled many kilometres to deliver mail to Mabalauta through an area teeming with aggressive elephants, or scouts in the CHAs or Safari areas - such as Manwell Jere who was mauled by lion while accompanying a hunter in the Charara Safari Area and Sgt Gezani who was axed in the head and left for dead in the Mahenya area of the Gonarezhou - to the Inyanga Fisheries Scouts who patrolled the rivers and dams with vigour each day; they had the unenviable task of dealing with crusty old fishermen stalking trout, and others who ‘unwittingly’ fished without licences or, heaven forbid, used worms! Some interesting personal tales follow. Sergeant Gezani Manganye – Jeremy Anderson We have all had our mentors in the bush. For some, they were parents; for others an older sibling. But for many of those who have worked in African conservation organisations they were the game scouts. In my case, on joining the Department shortly after amalgamation of the Game Department and National Parks, the first couple of days were spent drawing uniforms and camping equipment, and signing forms. My function was to join Dave Rushworth and extend the Game Ranching advisory service started by Allan Savory. Dave immediately mentioned that I would need a game scout for fieldwork and that he had latched on to one who he reckoned had the best eyesight in Game Department. Gezani had previously worked with Bert Milne, who had just left to become a professional hunter in Botswana. Gezani was a Shangaan, born on the east bank of the Sabi, and grew up tending his father’s livestock and hunting with a bow. He talked about hunting buffalo with his father by following the herd and waiting for them to move down through the fringe of reeds to drink at the Sabi. Then, both tiptoed along - watching the wind - and hid in the reeds to wait for buffalo to return from the river. When they came out, they would wait for one near the end and then shoot for just behind the ribs, angled forward. Well hit, they ran about 200 yards. Without thinking about it, I learned much of my bushcraft and tracking skills from him. Although he spoke no English, he had a driver’s licence and, on long trips, it was a pleasure for him to drive and for me to read a western while he did so. He was one of those people with an almost constant smile, which was great most of the time. But once, coming out of Sijarira in a cloudburst, when I thought my Land Rover was about to be washed away despite being tied to a tree, his smile did not go down well at all. Years later, I met Bert Milne shortly after he had retired and told him that I’d worked with Gezani and how highly I rated him. Bert agreed and told of an incident where he had to follow some crop-raiding elephant bulls into sinanga thickets below Birchenough Bridge. Gezani did the tracking and, when they got up to them, the animals were within ten yards. Bert brained the first one that presented a clear shot, and immediately another charged. Bert killed this one so close by that it fell on Gezani, who had stood his ground. Fearing the worst, Bert went over to see what was left Sergeant Gezani Manganye Jeremy Anderson

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of Gezani. There he was, with one tusk having gone between his legs, just missing the family jewels, and the trunk was on the outside of his thigh. He was still smiling. In the years we’d worked together, he had never ever mentioned it. Sergeant Mahoboti – Dave Rushworth A remarkable man … When the Robins area was incorporated into Wankie National Park (1939) Mahoboti - who’d previously worked for HC Robins, was employed as a scout by Ted Davison. He served continuously at Robins until his retirement in 1970; Mahoboti Pan, one of the pumped water points in the area, bears his name. Unbeknown to staff, Mahoboti had, in the year dot, been issued with a Martini Henry rifle and five rounds of the original .450/577 ammunition. To everyone’s knowledge the rifle was never used. When new staff houses were built and the rifle could no longer be kept in the thatch of Mahoboti’s original pole and dagga hut, it was handed in, together with the five cartridges. The weapon was in good condition and was later hung up in the Robins Tourist Office. Its whereabouts today is not known. Mahoboti was awarded the Rhodesia Badge of Honour for outstanding service.

Mahoboti Pan, one of the pumped water points in the area, bears his name.

Game Scout Button – Paul Coetsee I ‘inherited’ Button when I was at Matusadona in the early ‘60s; he was ex Game Department and a tiny, insignificant-looking man. Looks, however, can be deceiving. He was, like only a few of his contemporaries, completely at home in the bush; he knew the vegetation like the back of his hand and was an amazing tracker. Unfortunately in his later years his eyes started to fail him. Button carried a Westley Richards .425 and was a good hunter; on elephant, he preferred fatal body shots but in time became familiar with brain shots. Whenever I was pressed for time I would send him out into tribal areas to deal with crop-raiding elephant – he was good. On one occasion we lost a wounded elephant. Due to faulty .500 ammunition, we almost lost three, but in the end only one got away. Button and I followed it, and followed it, but in the end we lost it. Some two months later we were in the same area, again dealing with crop raiders. We picked up tracks and Button said, “This is our bull.” I said, “Nonsense!” He said, “This is it! This is the one we lost.” We tracked the animal down and shot it. We recovered the old bullet and it was as he’d said… the same elephant. That’s how good he was at tracking and reading signs.

Senior Scout Mece Machavana – Mike Bromwich Mece, also pronounced ‘Mac’ - a Shangaan from the Hlengwe area in the Sengwe TTL - was recruited as a labourer by Tim Braybrooke in the mid 1960s. Within a short period of time Tim recognised Mece’s potential and had him made up to game scout and later to sergeant. No one knew how old Mece was, but he must have been in his middle to late forties then. His father was a tracker for Bvekenya Barnard, the legendary ivory poacher who roamed the area decades before. Mece took Tim along to show him the ‘Bvekenya Trail’ - from Pafuri on the Limpopo, to Fishans on the Lundi; that’s a straight-line distance of some 130 kilometres. Mece was a natural. Apart from being handy with a rifle he was also skilled with the powerful Shangaan bow, which suggests he developed his art of hunting as a youth. He too was a great naturalist; he knew his trees, shrubs, herbs and grasses by their Shangaan names and was never proved wrong by the National Herbarium. I learnt to take his word for it when it came to plant identification. Mece also knew how to make every conceivable trap, be it for birds or animals. Ron Thomson used Mece’s skills to trap troublesome genets that raided his chicken and pigeon ‘hoks’1 at Mabalauta. It was very much a last resort to kill two or three of these voracious little predators, but when he lost eight or nine birds in a single night, with just their heads bitten off, and half a dozen the next night, action was justified – and Mece solved the problem. I did a fair amount of control work with Mece, and Mike Fynn considerably more. Mike

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Afrikaans for enclosures.

Left to right: Sergeant Mahoboti Dave Rushworth Button, Paul’s hunting companion for many years. Paul Coetsee Button – Diminutive in stature but a skilled tracker and hunter. Paul Coetsee Mece Machavana – one of the ‘old school’ – a bush-man and naturalist in the true sense of the word Bryan Orford

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attributes his elephant hunting skills to Sergeant Mece’s tutoring. He was Tom Orford’s right hand man on wilderness donkey trails and a firm favourite with trailists. Those who knew Mece will remember his bush attire – ‘manyatelas’ (car-tyre sandals), torn shorts, a holey vest and his little hand axe, so sharply honed it could take the hairs off your arm. Mece was a legend in the lowveld, and rightly so. A year or so after Independence, Mece was retired at the assumed age of 65. Mike Fynn, who’d also left the Department by then but still lived in the Chiredzi area, employed him and set about arranging for his Government pension to be paid, which had not been attended to. Around 1984, and now the proud owner of a scotch cart given to him by Mike and Clive Stockil, Mece retired to his home near Bole in the Matibi Communal Lands. He died a short while later. Mike Fynn notes, “He was a man who could barely write his name, totally illiterate, but what a genius in the bush.” Research Officer Brian Sherry was stationed there and found that Mece had a huge wealth of knowledge of the Gonarezhou, having grown up on the Lundi River; he also knew the Guluene/ Chefu area intimately (a one-time tsetse corridor separating the northern section of the Park from the south) and the southern Nuanetsi area too. He taught Brian much of his naturalist knowledge of the area in general. Mece was a very good all-rounder in the bush – physically hard and grizzled, he was a true ‘bush-man’, having little interest in the modern ideas about life, which were becoming more common among the younger staff. He was an excellent tracker and had a feel for the bush that was exceptional. Sergeant Manwere – Dave Rushworth Taken on initially in the old Game Department days where he was promoted to the rank of Senior Scout, I worked with Manwere at Marongora and at Sinamatella when the station first opened in ‘63. In those days Manwere always carried a Westley Richards .500 double rifle. He was a good and fearless hunter, but never managed to master firing single shots. With a finger on each trigger he always pulled a ‘double fusillade’ every time he fired. His ‘twin shot’ entry holes were his trademark. Sergeant Mjoyce Buyotsi – Bob Thomson I first met Mjoyce when I was transferred to Chizarira in early 1972. He had worked with my brother Ron at Main Camp in the early days, and was transferred to Binga with him around 1964. He was a completely un-schooled San bushman from Jozivanini in Botswana, just beyond the southern tip of Wankie National Park, and was originally employed around 1949 as Ted Davison’s herd boy at Main Camp. His job was to look after the ‘indicator’ herd of cattle held in Wankie to monitor the presence of tsetse fly. After Chizarira, Mjoyce moved with me first

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to Darwendale, then Main Camp, then Inyanga and eventually to Bulawayo. I promoted him to Sergeant at Inyanga to give him a better pension when he eventually retired. Mjoyce was an incredible tracker and knew the habits of wildlife intimately. At Chizarira I gave him a lot of elephant control work to do, often in odd, out-of-the-way places. I used to send him off by bicycle, on his own with a .458, and we would collect the tusks of anything shot from the local chief when next in the area. He remained totally illiterate, and seemed born to never wear clothes, but he was the best field scout I ever had the privilege of working with. He came to us with a history we were never able to verify: once when on patrol in the south west corner of Wankie near his home, he nipped across the border to his kraal where he found his wife with another man. He simply shot the man dead and continued his patrol and never returned to Botswana. When I asked him about it, all I got was a wry smile.

Above Left: Sgt. Mjoyce Buyotsi – Bob Thomson’s companion-in-arms for many years. Awarded the Rhodesia Badge of Honour. Bob Thomson Above Right: Game Scout Samson Paul Coetsee

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Tracker and Game Scout Samson – Paul Coetsee Samson came to me as a youngster, brought in by Button, and was initially given the usual menial chores in the field, like carrying a jossack or camera case. Later Button said, “Samson wants to track, can we give him a try?” I had noticed Samson, he was very alert, so in due course I put him on tracks. He was obviously born to it – we guided him with bits and pieces but he was good, very good, and a fast tracker too. Button was very proud of his protégé. Samson was worth his weight in gold during the war; we used to take it in turns to track on follow-ups. Once, while closely following spoor, I was suddenly hit by a tremendous thump on my back and went straight down. As I hit the ground, terrorists opened fire. Samson had seen a movement or something and, guessing we were in immediate danger of being shot, knocked me to the ground. When the Army introduced a reward system for trackers who led successful follow-ups, Samson made good money. We were no sooner back from one call-up than he would ask, “When are we going again? I am building my house and I need the money”. He was fearless and a good shot too; we worked very well as a team, both in military and civilian roles. Samson, according to Mike le Grange, acquired his tracking skills in the Gokwe area near the Copper Queen. His family didn’t believe in schooling - boys were responsible for looking after the cattle. Loss of livestock was not acceptable, whether from straying or eaten by lions. He spent a great deal of time in the bush with his cattle, ever watchful for danger and looking for tracks. Samson was phenomenal. Most trackers use the ‘three sixty’ method of circling when tracks were lost. Samson didn’t, he just kept on the spoor. To over-simplify his ability, he simply walked along behind the animal he was following until he found it; when he had difficulties he would tell us to get out of the way until he had sorted out the tracks. He tracked at a fast rate and closed distances very quickly - he could even track down within a day animals wounded three days previously. Was it a sixth sense or just plain know-how? North of Mount Darwin, two villagers once disturbed a buffalo near their lands. One was gored to death while the other was treed, but eventually escaped hours later when the aggressive animal left. Samson and I took up the tracks the following day. It was immediately apparent that the animal was seemingly possessed – it had repeatedly beaten up bushes, scraping off the bark with its boss. The few villagers who initially accompanied us soon left, and after a kilometre or two we got into some really intimidating bush, but with the wind in our favour I was not too concerned. Suddenly the bush opened up as we entered an overgrown, disused land. The spoor followed the edge of the open area, but Samson stopped and pointed off to the right to a large well-covered anthill in the middle of the old land. He indicated that the buffalo might be hiding there. The spoor clearly didn’t lead that way, but I had learnt to trust Samson’s judgement so I indicated for him to continue with the spoor while I checked the anthill. It was relatively open,

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... such men were legends in their time and must not be forgotten.

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and as I approached, there was a sudden bellow and the bull charged out. Enough time for two shots and it was over. I was very impressed, and wanted to learn how the ambush had happened. We followed the spoor round to a point close to the anthill, where the prevailing wind was in the buffalo’s favour. Here he went directly to the opposite side of the anthill and climbed to a prominent position with a great view from dense cover. It was not wounded and could not have known it was being followed; perhaps it had heard the villagers who initially accompanied us; maybe it was looking for a cool lying-up place? I have learned enough about buffalo over the years to know that they can be exceedingly cunning and one should never become complacent. But the important point here is that it hadn’t fooled Samson.

Below: Senior Scout Kapesa – One of the Game Department’s original scouts and recipient of the Rhodesia Badge of Honour Paul Coetsee Illustration: Kapesa with his ‘wire-rimmed’ glasses Brian Harmer

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Sergeant Kapesa, Mentor and Guide - Ian Thomson It was July 1968 when I took up my new post as Ranger i/c, Nyakasanga Controlled Hunting Area, based at Chirundu on the Zambezi. On arrival at base camp set on top of the Chirundu hill I was met by all the staff, led by Sgt Kapesa, who, stalwart that he was, soon had everyone offloading our sparse furniture and possessions from the truck and into the rooms of our new prefabricated home. The valley was familiar territory to me from many fishing trips made from our family farm near Karoi, just over a hundred kilometres away. At the time I had no work vehicle of my own so was given an old Government Land Rover to start my career. Kapesa knew the Zambezi valley like the back of his hand, especially the central Nyakasanga area that was my bailiwick. He was an ex Native Department Magocha (official hunter), a duty he carried out armed with an old single shot .450/577 calibre Martini Henry rifle and a single barrel 12 gauge Greener shotgun. He was expected to protect the local people’s crops - mainly of maize and sorghum - from crop-raiding elephants, buffalo, baboons and sometimes hippo. Not an easy task with such antiquated weapons. His escapes from encounters with these animals were the subject of many a campfire tale on the extended patrols we enjoyed together. Kapesa was about 65 or 70 when I first knew him, a stooped and wiry man, with knobbly knees and long legs that could walk a bull elephant into the ground. He had a very expressive and lined face that told a thousand stories. Apart from his beloved homeland, the central Zambezi valley, he had two other loves. The first was his round, wire-rimmed glasses that he balanced delicately on his nose, making him look like an African Gandhi. Putting them on was a mission for him, especially getting the springy wire arms around his ears, and the cause of much mirth among the junior staff. His second love was his living quarters at our staff base down on the river. He lived in a metal ‘Altent’, a kit-form metal house that was standard issue government field accommodation. Although quick to erect, these metal huts worked like a sauna in the heat of the Zambezi Valley, but felt like a deep freeze in winter; they were as noisy as hell when it rained. But they were strong, predator- and elephant-proof, so ideal for remote base accommodation. Kapesa would mutter about the extreme heat or cold, or that the sound of the rain on his roof was making him deaf. But when we had to move him to a new hunting camp at Chimutsi Dam near the escarpment, he refused to go until his beloved house was moved first. It was Kapesa’s tracking prowess that is etched on my memory. Not just his skill, but his ability and pleasure in teaching others. He taught me to read both ground and aerial spoor, to interpret the animal’s intentions, and many other animal and human signs and senses that were key to honing my own abilities and bushcraft. He would say, “Ishe, do not only look at the spoor! Think about the animal; know its habits. Look at the bush, the time of day; know your terrain, where is the nearest water? Is the weather hot and dry or cold and wet? Does the herd have any young animals with it, which means they will drink more often?” and so on. In other words, read all the signs around you like a book, and not just the spoor you are following. The highlights of my time in the valley with Kapesa, and our many other trackers, were when at the end of the day; after a long vehicle or foot patrol, having selected a suitable camping spot and after sharing a simple meal of sadza (maize meal) and stew, we’d relax around the fire and talk. While sipping sweet tea out of tin mugs that burnt the hell out of your lips, the staff having rolled a cigarette, the conversation flowed out across the firelight and the stories came out in a mixture of ‘Fanagalo’ and Shona. Such genuine relaxing camaraderie is probably never to be repeated nowadays. Men like Kapesa led simple but hard lives and certainly behaved as if they were completely fulfilled with their lot. Although we only realised it much later in our careers, such men were legends in their time and must not be forgotten. After six years of working with such talented and valuable staff, especially Kapesa, I realised I could not have wished for a better mentor, guide and friend. Many such men gave their lives to the wildlife cause, and we salute them all. As a tribute to Kapesa, here is one last anecdote. When he was about to retire, many of us who’d served our apprenticeship under him, plus other rangers and wardens who had worked with him over the years, asked him what he would like as a retirement present. After giving it some thought he answered, “I would like to continue to live in an Altent. I have lived in one all my life and I would like to go home and end my days still living in one”. Needless to say, we all clubbed together and erected an Altent for him in his home village. 109

3. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

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Sergeant Makeko before he lost his arm in a shoot-out with poachers Mark Butcher Austen – one of Kyle’s immaculately turned out Scouts Tim Braybrooke Matusadona Scouts – Scout Simon and Sgt. Mackson Russell Taylor Game Scout Mackson – Mike Fynn’s and later Clem Coetsee’s ‘right hand man.’ Mike Fynn Jonas Moyo ‘rhino keeper’ Mike Fynn

Sergeant Makeko – Alistair Hull Makeko, born in the Dett area, was an exceptionally good tracker, both under hunting pressure and military danger. Ollie Coltman and I employed him in 1976/77. He was with me in both the contact when Russell Williams was killed, and on the immediate follow-up after the ambush of tourists on the Dopi Loop a few kilometres out of Main Camp. He acquitted himself very well in both and was also present with Charlie Mackie when he was shot up in the ambush on the Mitswiri /Manga road. Along with Charlie, he sustained some shrapnel wounds in that incident. On anti-poaching, Makeko was involved in the fire-fight in which Roger Evans was killed by poachers. He received a gunshot wound in this incident that resulted in him losing his lower arm. He went on to become one of the top anti-poaching scouts in Wankie National Park and rose to the rank of Sergeant. I understand he died around 2006.

7. 6. 7. 8. 9.

Hlupo – John Osborne referred to him as his working shadow in the bush John Osborne Sgt. Timoti (Mabalauta) – another who excelled in anti-poaching Bryan Orford Sgt. Giyai – Marongora Tom Everett John Tavona, a competent rider, began his career in 1970 as the Mabalauta groom and ‘horse boy’. He was promoted to Game Scout and later to Sergeant Mike Bromwich

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10. Scout Mwanza of Mana Pools Jenny Pelham 11. Chipinda Pools Sergeant Gezani with a poacher arrested in the Sabi/ Lundi Junction area. Richard Aylward 12. Sergeant Julius Mahlatini â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Mana Pools Russell Taylor 13. Scout Nyambi, a superb tracker whose skills came to the fore during Tsetse Ops, spent much of his time in the Mashonoland North region where he worked with Dave Scammell, Paul Coetsee and others. Highly thought of, he saw his career out at Mabalauta. Paul Coetsee

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11.

12.

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Semi/fully automatic .762 NATO Rifle. Belongings (colloquial; origin unknown)

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Game Scout Harrison Chitungu - Graham Hall Harrison Chitungu was one of a small detachment of game scouts based at Birchenough Field Station. Following a very serious outbreak of cholera in 1973, Graham Hall, a recent incumbent to the rangers post in mid-Sabi, was transferred to Mushandike National Park and the Field Station was closed down. With this move he ‘inherited’ two game scouts. One was Harrison, who later accompanied Graham Hall when he was posted to Chipinda Pools. Thinking back to those days in the Gonarezhou, Graham recalls: “Harrison was the epitome of a really good field game scout, he was trustworthy and loyal. He was not afraid to venture deep into the Park, or to patrol the Moçambique border in search of the notorious poacher Shadreck, and others of his ilk, operating out of the Mahenya area or from across the border. He was not scared of elephant and was an exceptionally good tracker. I used him in preference to anyone else; he had superb eyes and was very good at spotting from an aircraft.” Graham remembers that Harrison controlled staff well, and that he and Harrison worked very well together and had a great rapport. Graham had him promoted to Senior Scout. When Graham himself was promoted to Warden at Kariba, Rob Francis at Chipinda Pools agreed that Senior Scout Harrison would move with Graham. Being an established Field Station, Kariba had its own complement of game scouts who were based at Nyanyana, a short distance from the town. Within a short while of Graham’s move the security situation deteriorated, which necessitated, amongst other things, the arming of all scouts; they were issued with G32 rifles. With Nyanyana quite a distance out of town - far enough for it to be difficult for staff to carry their maize meal and other supplies back to their base after month-end shopping, the station’s Puma - a five-ton armoured truck - was used to ferry scouts into Kariba and back to Nyanyana. At one month-end the truck was not available and a Land Rover, under Senior Scout Harrison’s control, was put at the disposal of the scouts; several trips would be required to move everyone and their ‘katundu’3 in and out of town. Late that night, at Peter’s Point where he lived, Graham recalls hearing banging at the door. Still half asleep he opened the door to see two game scouts, covered in blood, standing there. When Graham asked what had happened he was told that Harrison was dead, and his body was in the back of the Land Rover. “I could not understand what they were talking about, but went to the vehicle and, true enough, there lay Harrison shot to pieces - he had holes in him from his toes, right up his

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body to his head; he had been shot with a G3. The scout responsible, whom I never liked, was handcuffed. From the two I learnt what had happened. The scout in handcuffs had been smoking ‘dagga’ (or marijuana) which had been purchased with his pay. Harrison was possibly on his second trip back to Nyanyana when this particular individual started his nonsense. This fellow told Harrison he wanted to put his bicycle aboard the vehicle and go back there and then. As the Land Rover was already full, Harrison said this was not possible; he explained people’s purchases had been packed in an orderly manner to prevent supplies being muddled, plus the fact that the bicycle’s handlebars or pedals would, in all probability, puncture the bags of meal. The scout was told to wait a short while for the next trip when he, the bicycle and all his bits and pieces would be loaded. With this, the scout lost his senses; he began ranting and raving, shouting ‘you are Warden Hall’s pet ranger’ and other such things. He then picked up his rifle and all but emptied the magazine of 20 rounds into Harrison. Senior Scout Harrison Chitungu was without doubt the best Game Scout I ever had or worked with, and this is precisely why he was killed; it was plain and simple jealousy. I lost track of what happened to the other individual. The police took him away, he was locked up; I do not know whether or not he was hanged.”

Senior Scout Keni Graham Child

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Senior Scout Keni Kasaruro MLM. MSM. – John Stevens It was at Copper Queen, around 1968, that I first met Keni, a game scout employed like others to do extended anti-poaching patrols both on foot and by bicycle. There was something special about him that made me ask for him to be transferred with me when I was posted to Mana Pools in 1973. Hostilities had started at this stage, with a number of landmines and other incidents already recorded. It was at Mana that I really got to know Keni. He was a dedicated game scout, completely fearless and set a fine example to the other scouts and to the young rangers posted at Mana over the years. Being the senior scout, Keni also did all the training. I recall doing a followup with him when, all of a sudden, he just took off running and dived into the Zambezi; he’d spotted some guy in the water and, showing disregard for his own safety, went in after him. Keni was a guy that I loved to be with in the bush; in later years I became involved with his family. After Nikki and I were married we were posted to Darwendale Dam, security concerns being such that there were not many places to send married staff in those days. I was faced with a massive fish-poaching problem, involving some Parks staff. I knew the only way to clear the place was to get Sgt Keni in to join me. We spent six or seven months there and made any number of arrests. With huge problems on Lake McIlwaine and Darwendale, Ron Thomson, my PW in Salisbury, got permission for us to use firearms, but with this proviso: we could only shoot below the knees. On a clandestine operation one night I gave Keni my .357 revolver, dressed him up like a poacher, and sent him off into one of the arms of the Lake where poachers were known to operate. Suddenly I heard gunfire and, making contact with Keni, asked what happened. He said they didn’t stop when he told them to, so he fired on them. “But,” I said, “They were in quite deep water weren’t they?” “Yes they were.” “How did you see their knees?”

part of the world; Keni called for Criton to come out… followed by complete silence. “Come out.” “Why must we come out?” The next minute the doors flew open and there was a brief fire-fight as the guys poured out of the hut. In the chaos we all let fly, but we missed everyone, which was pretty poor shooting by any standard. They all escaped into the night, so we left the area and walked to our pick-up point. A week or so later, Keni heard that his father had managed to slip away during the skirmish that night. I was very pleased that we’d been able to contribute to his escape. In Tim and Tore I chose two chaps I knew would stand by me, but wasn’t it a great thing for Keni; I felt there was this bond and we owed it to him. I looked after Keni’s father and mother at Tashinga for about a year after that. His father was an old man and later died, but he led a lovely life with us. I can still picture him. After I left Parks, Keni stayed on at Tashinga. Some time later I received a phone call from Matusadona that he was desperately ill and having difficulty breathing, so I arranged for Parks to get him across the Lake to Kariba and onto the afternoon flight to Harare. The next morning I drove him to Mutare to see my doctor, Dr Wessels. Keni had a lung infection, which was cured by antibiotics, but I think he may also have been HIV positive. As time went by, he lost his whole family. I took Keni back home with me and put him into our spare bedroom where we could care for him properly. Wilson and Criton died and, as Keni weakened, he spent more and more time at Nymunga, his rural home. He is buried there. I just need to go and visit his grave. I was in New Zealand when he passed away, so that’s something I need to do. We put his son Chipingi, who later changed his name to Mike, through school and, like his father he too worked for us in the safari business. He was a lively youngster and having him about made me feel close to Keni. Mike died from HIV at the early age of about 30. Over about twenty years I really got to know Keni and his family. I will never forget the bond Keni and I shared.

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He was just one of those totally dedicated chaps; his duty was to stop the fish poaching and make arrests. I didn’t find any bodies floating about! In 1978 Sgt Keni joined me at Matusadona where I was warden in charge. On one occasion I was advised there was a poacher in the park, and that his RV point was known. I radioed Paul Grobler for help. Paul was croc farming just outside the Park and was also an honorary officer with his own plane. He flew in and, having discussed a plan of action with Keni, I asked Paul to fly me over the area and told Keni to go in with the station’s Land Rover. I had no driver and Keni had never driven in his life, but I told him I was confident he could manage it and sent him off with my radio. I flew with Paul because I needed to guide Keni to the right place. En route we saw the Land Rover stuck in a gully, then off it went again - he was making progress and eventually got to the target area – and back! The poacher turned out not to be a poacher after all. But isn’t it amazing that he had the confidence to do something he’d never done before - and I had so much faith in him that I knew that he’d handle it! Later, during the hostilities I got a message that Keni’s father had been abducted by ‘freedom fighters’. I was so close to Keni that I felt I had to help him. His village was in the Magunge area, where the first Viscount was shot down. Keni had two, or three brothers – there was Wilson who was at Mana with us, and Criton who had joined the ‘comrades’. We figured Keni’s father had been captured or abducted and decided we had to go and get him out. So I got hold of Tore Balance and Tim Wellington and, with Keni, we went into Karoi. To cut a long story short, we were flown into the area by helicopter at last light, and once on the ground began our walk in to Keni’s village. It was moonlight and Keni, knowing all the paths, led the way. We were well armed - everyone carried an FN with a bunch of magazines, except Tim, who, as a territorial member of the SAS, carried a cut down RPD light machine gun. We intended to capture Criton and persuade him to take us to where his father was being held. Around eleven o’clock that night we arrived at the village and crawled up to Criton’s hut. People were speaking in the Ndebele language, which was completely foreign to this

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Mpopoma Dam Matopos Game Park

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CHAPTER 5

BUSH WIVES UNSUNG HEROINES These brief accounts from women who ran households on remote bush stations give some idea of the romance of bush life as well as the down-to-earth difficulties and dangers. Recognising the essential support women have given to National Parks, we acknowledge all the ladies serving in less glamorous positions, particularly those at Head Office: in the records office, the typing pool and accounts branch. These women were efficiency personified. The records office, headed by Ivy Hobbs, assisted by Mesdames Blittenthal, Sims, Rogers and Davidson, supplied us with the files, documentation, messages and phone calls that kept the wheels turning. Pat Gill in accounts kept the all-important finances in check, never hesitating to castigate those responsible for overexpenditure, even if it originated in the corridors of power upstairs. Nevertheless, Pat, like her predecessors John Hill and Mick Finn, always found funds from somewhere when the need arose. Pat’s stock response was, ‘The answer is no.’, but she would then listen to what you had to say and do what she could; a delightful lady who managed the ever-shrinking budget with aplomb. Marion Babcock supervised an efficient typing pool; mountains of reports, ministerial documents and field notations emanated from her office, all bashed out on old government manual typewriters. They did their own proofreading and documents were devoid of errors. The H.Q. librarian, Allison, also ran a competent office for research and field staff queries, providing data required across the country. Basil Williamson’s wife, Pebbles, worked for the United Touring Company at Wankie National Park. One of her responsibilities was to act as ground crew marshal, guiding in the landing Air Rhodesia Viscounts, waving her bats to and fro on the runway before returning to the office to take care of the visitors. In the field, women filled vital posts, keeping the station correspondence flowing from old Imperial typewriters and attending to a variety of staff issues – burns, stings, coughs, bruises, cuts and other complications - apart from operating the station radio and doing the monthly Water Development returns, for which they received six dollars as payment. Countrywide, wives schooled their children or travelled considerable distances to schools along lonely roads, dealing with punctures, breakdowns, flooded rivers, elephants and war conditions. These ladies did their menfolk and the Department proud.

Operation Noah – Tinkey Haslam keeps an impala’s head above water as he waits for a rescue boat Margaret Peach

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NOT QUITE A DOCTOR AND NOT QUITE A VET - Margaret (Haslam) Peach All National Parks wives and mothers who lived in areas far from any medical facilities carried a heavy responsibility, particularly those with young children. It is amazing how they coped with medical emergencies and childhood ailments under very trying conditions. From my own experience, being a qualified nurse had its disadvantages as I always expected the worst scenario for the most trivial complaint. For example, a sore throat could be diphtheria, and diarrhoea could only be cholera, nothing simple! All the strictly correct nursing procedures taught in the training college went out the window in the bush, and I resorted to adapting Heath Robinson methods with what I had at my disposal. During my years married to Ranger and Warden Tinkey Haslam, I treated not only human beings, but an assortment of animals as well. There were no really dramatic incidents, but they all added up to a very interesting aspect of being a bush wife and I am grateful that I had this experience.

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Operation Noah Kariba Base Camp – Tinkey and Margaret’s home on Peter’s Point overlooking the Lake Margaret Peach

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During Kariba rescue operations I spent a lot of time up the Lake on various islands and recall one incident when Lofty Stokes was outsprinted by a leopard and had nasty, deep lacerations on his back. After cleaning and dressing the wounds, I gave him an anti-tetanus injection. I subsequently stayed awake all night worrying in case he had an allergic reaction. My vivid imagination had already put him in the morgue and me behind bars for malpractice. Next morning he emerged from his cabin on the MV Mwenda (one of the larger lake craft) a bit sore and stiff, but ALIVE, much to my relief. Also during Operation Noah, two rhino named Sal and Vinia were being held at the Kariba base camp awaiting translocation. Unfortunately Vinia took ill and died, and not long after that Sal became lethargic and ill. We contacted the Government vet in Salisbury and his instructions were to keep a check on her heartbeat and temperature and also to give an enema. My nursing training did not include checking rhinos’ vital signs, let alone giving one an enema! So there I was with my ear up against her chest trying to count her respiration and heart rate, but I did not take her temperature as the only thermometer I had was for humans. Fortunately she was too ill to pose any threat, so we were able to work with her quite easily. For the enema we used a five-gallon drum of soapy water and a stirrup pump. Then, when she got up in a hurry, we made a dash for the stockade, as we didn’t relish the thought of being sprayed by soapy rhino dung. Strangely enough she survived the ordeal and was successfully translocated. While stationed at Marongora in the Zambezi Valley, Kate Reese and I had the delightful task of caring for an orphaned elephant calf called Shapi. We had to give him bottle feeds four times a day, each feed consisting of five whiskey bottles of special formula, the details of which were given to us by the Veterinary Department: 2 pints black tea (tannin to prevent diarrhoea) 1 pint water 1 cup oats made into porridge and strained 10 tablespoons powdered milk 2 tablespoons glucose 1 dessertspoon salt 2 tablespoons cooking oil Egg white added to one feed a day (rich source of albumin/protein) I also had to administer intramuscular Terramycin injections to prevent bowel infection; it was quite a job trying to penetrate the thick hide and the needle was really enormous compared to the ones I was familiar with. Shapi progressed well at Marongora and was later translocated to

Crackers – immortalised in Brian O’Donaghue’s book of the same name. Dave Rushworth

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Lake McIlwaine but later unfortunately succumbed to gastroenteritis and pneumonia. It’s amazing what one has to do when there is no medical help close by. While we were at Marongora, I was pregnant with Brenda. I was very anaemic and needed Imferon injections. Kariba was too far away, so Tinkey had to give me these injections on a regular basis. Anyone who is familiar with Imferon will know that the dosage is large, the actual solution burns like anything and leaves a large bruised area around the injection site. I was an absolute coward when it came to having these and Tinkey would have to chase me all over the place before he could give them to me. Needless to say, they turned my buttocks black and blue! There was a time soon after Brenda was born when our daughter Raye was suffering from tonsillitis and had a very high fever. I was alone as Tinkey was away on patrol. I slept on the floor next to her bed and kept sponging her all night to keep the temperature down and prevent her from having febrile convulsions. Next morning, Tinkey’s Land Rover arrived unexpectedly with Lameck the Game Scout driving. I immediately thought Tinkey must have been injured, but discovered he was delirious from a bout of malaria. I now had two very ill patients on my hands and a newborn baby to take care of. Somehow, we all managed to get through this in one piece. While camping at B Camp before Brenda was born, Raye developed excruciating earache and screamed all day and most of the night. Next morning we drove to Chirundu Sugar Estates clinic where, as luck would have it, Dr. Warne was holding his monthly clinic. Raye was diagnosed with an ear abscess and duly given medication. Crackers, Tinkey’s little terrier of Operation Noah fame, was with us at Marongora. It was a sad day when he died. He must have been bitten by a snake because I found him frothing at the mouth and twitching. I gave him snakebite serum and, after phoning the vet in Karoi, I sat with him on my lap all night until he died; the vet sent medication through on the bus, but it arrived too late. At a culling camp in Wankie, Tinkey was bitten by a burrowing adder. On Research Technician Pete Thomson’s advice I did not administer snakebite serum, but gave him a shot of antihistamine. I had to monitor his general condition closely and be ready to rush him through to the nearest hospital, which was Lupane Mission beyond Gwaai River. His foot became very swollen and discoloured and I was really worried about the effects of the venom, but after a couple of days the swelling subsided and he had no tissue damage. On the very remote and isolated station of Mabalauta in the southern area of the Gonarezhou I also had to doctor the horses. Lagosta, one of the patrol horses, developed a chronic ulcer as a result of a severe rope burn. Fortunately he was very tame and did not object to the daily dressings of his wound. My other horsy patient was Sherry, a wild young colt that had all but scalped himself getting entangled with a barbed wire fence. Tinkey and his assistants threw him to the ground, bound his legs and sat on him while I stitched up the flap of skin with fishing line and an upholstery needle. I emptied a packet of sulphanilamide powder into the wound before closing it.

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Amazingly, he healed well. While at Main Camp Wankie, I was asked to start a clinic for employees and their families and, of course, any tourists needing medical attention. The ‘clinic’ was a converted paint-shed attached to the workshop, and my assistant and interpreter was a senior game scout. We attended to the working men at seven in the morning and the women and children in the early afternoon. I was not paid a salary but was given £100 sterling a year to buy medicines and supplies from the Government Medical Stores. The Medical Officer in charge of Matabeleland, stationed in Bulawayo, would visit our district on a monthly basis and bring out vaccines and anything else that was needed. He would see any patients that needed to be seen by a doctor; others who could not be dealt with at the clinic were sent through to Lupane Mission Hospital where they had the facilities to perform minor operations. I had a very primitive set-up and used to boil my syringes and instruments in a saucepan on a gas ring. I stitched wounds, treated ailments and generally turned my hand to whatever presented itself. As at Mabalauta, not all my patients were humans; over one particular period, regular visitors to the clinic were four pack donkeys that had been confiscated from Botswana poachers. They were in very bad condition, having extensive saddle sores and rope burns. Treating their wounds and giving the required injections of antibiotics were not easy tasks Being in a National Park where speed limits were severely restricted, vehicle accidents seldom occurred. However, we did have one serious accident when a tourist coming into Main Camp had a head-on collision with a Parks vehicle. The fire engine and ambulance, always on standby at the airstrip, were rushed to the scene. The door of the car had to be forced open to get the driver out. He was in a critical condition; his limbs were crushed, he was ‘pulse-less’ and barely conscious. After treating him for shock, we raced him through to Wankie Hospital in the ambulance, Tinkey driving like a maniac, hooting his way through herds of elephants and anything else that got in the way. Thank goodness the man survived and his broken bones healed well. The driver and passengers in the Parks truck, which ironically had been on its way to the mission hospital with patients, were all patched up and taken

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through to Lupane in another vehicle. Another aspect of my nursing activities at Main Camp was delivering babies. I was called up at all hours of the day or night to attend to women in labour in the compound. For such occasions I kept ready a small case and a white overall, which could be slipped over whatever I was wearing. A game scout would come to the house to collect me in a Parks vehicle at all hours of the day or night. The huts were smoky and dark and the floors were bare earth. Very often the woman in labour would be lying on the floor, either on a towel or newspaper, while a perfectly good bed stood in the room. This, I was informed, was the husband’s bed and was not be soiled by childbirth! So, with a candle at my head, I would squat or kneel on the ground together with the woman throughout her labour. Thinking back, I wonder how I managed to deliver all those babies so successfully under such primitive conditions. One of my patients was the wife of my cook. She went into labour at the camp and delivered a premature infant. It was late at night and, although I didn’t hold out much hope for the infant’s survival, I borrowed Ranger Rod Hill’s Ford truck and drove through the Park to Main Camp and then on to Lupane Mission hospital. Before setting off I wrapped the infant in cotton wool, insulated it in heavy-duty tin foil, covered the baby warmly and strapped it close to the mother’s chest so that it would be kept warm by her body heat. It took about three hours to reach the mission and on the road to Main Camp I had to drive through herds of elephants. The truck was really big, so I felt that an elephant would come off second best should we experience any close encounter. Sadly, the baby did not survive the trip, so it was all rather fruitless, but certainly better than doing nothing. So after a cup of tea with the nuns we spent the rest of the night driving all the way back to camp. DONKEY BOILER DAYS - Jean Junor Friday 19th June 1961: This was a stepping stone day… hopefully a stepping stone across the river of my insecurity. It’s time I stopped trying to be the best of bush wives and returned to being just me. Nonchalant. What is nonchalant? The dictionary says: casually unconcerned, indifferent, cool. Yes - that was what I was aiming for, when I put on that big act this

The Penduka Nzhou team L/R standing — Don Aylward (District Commissioner Gokwe) Boet Koen (Tsetse Department) Angus Fraser (Department Pilot) Paul Coetsee, Dave Scammell; kneeling — Norman Payne Snr, Robin Hughes, John Stevens, Bruce Couper and Clem Coetsee Grettl Hughes.

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The bulb burst and the cow’s face and ear were covered with streams of running paint. Pandemonium broke out as the bushes in front of us erupted and came alive with elephant, none of them sure what the threat was, nor where it was. Then Paul decided to have another go at a cow that was facing us. The result was the same; the bulb hit her head plumb centre and there was paint all over her face and running down the sides of her trunk. With that, she turned and took off, and the others fortunately followed. It later became clear that I was crouched behind a bush that wouldn’t have hidden a springhare. When we got back to camp at the end of our bulb-throwing games, Norman Payne (Snr), Clem and John Stevens were in camp, having come to assist with the drive. The next day we cleared a suitable bush strip for the Super Cub to land on and later that afternoon Paul, who’d gone through to Gokwe, flew in with Angus Fraser; from the air they’d seen some 300 elephants, including the ones we had marked.

Part 1 of the Elephant drive – Penduka Nzhou Paul and Angus took off at first light and, once a small herd had been located fairly close to the fence, we were called in by radio with the three Land Rovers. We became sort of herd boys, driving as best we could through the bush, with Paul directing the vehicles from the air. Although we couldn’t see elephant, the aircraft kept nudging the group towards the fence by low flying and buzzing them from behind. Paul positioned us to the rear of the herd - one vehicle to the right, another to the left and the third directly behind. As the elephants moved, so vehicles moved, changing direction as and when Paul radioed instructions or we could see the elephants and the fence. Once the fence had been sighted all three vehicles closed in on the herd, everyone making as much noise as possible right up to the fence line, forcing them through a section that had been cut a short while earlier. Although the weather and start of the rains later began to interfere with operations, the happenings of that first day became fairly routine. News of the drive brought all sorts of visitors - some official, some welcome as they had come to help, and some not. One group of not so welcome visitors was an American moviemaker, Arthur Jones and his crew, complete with a chopper and a fixed wing aircraft, plus Lisa who was

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Stuck in the Pokwe River Paul Coetsee

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straight from a ‘house’ in Florida somewhere. His crew comprised of Graham Hall, who later joined the Department, and Dieter, a German cameraman. From what we saw, Jones seemed to be somewhat of a dubious character; he flew his own chopper, which had two Arri 35mm cameras mounted either side of the bubble. Such was his set-up that cross hairs painted directly in front of the pilot served as the viewfinder, and the ‘trigger’ was positioned on the joystick. The first drive with the chopper herding the elephant was a pleasure, with Angus and Paul in the Super Cub circling above and giving directions. We hardly had to use the Land Rovers, except when the elephants were right on the fence. Everything went so well Paul decided to try a second group that day, which also went ‘by the book’ until we had the herd of about 20 elephants on the fence line. As the Land Rovers were moving in for the final push, Jones swung the chopper in front of the elephants and drove them directly back towards the vehicles, which were probably not more than four metres away. It was obvious that the intention was to film a Land Rover being run over by elephants… and maybe even exclusive footage of one of us being killed! Fortunately no one was injured, and somehow none of the vehicles were touched by any of the animals in their mad rush to escape from the chopper. Once the dust had cleared and we actually realised what had taken place, it was just as well Jones was in the safety of his chopper. When we saw Jones back at the landing strip about an hour later, tempers had cooled; fortunately Paul kicked the group out. By mid-December, with the rains already upon us and conditions deteriorating, vehicles were being bogged down and we were scratching to find elephant. There were certainly some about, but herds were few and far between; everything had scattered. In late January it was decided to call a halt to the operation until later in the year.

Bruce learning the ins and outs of elephant control Bruce Couper

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Gaining Experience – Bruce Couper From January 1968 through to February, we spent a lot of time dealing with crop-raiding bulls in the adjacent tribal lands. News travelled fast when we responded to calls. On one occasion, about an hour or two after setting up camp some distance away from Chief Sai’s villages, we started getting visitors. All complained about elephant raiding their sorghum fields. Villagers were told to call us when the elephants came into their lands. Around seven that night we heard excited voices long before anyone arrived at the camp. The headman, true to his word, had come to call us as elephants were in the lands, about a mile from where we camped. Within five minutes we were walking up the sandy riverbed with about four villagers leading the way. Their excitement bubbled over and they could not stop ‘whispering’ at the top of their voices. The closer we got to the lands and the elephants, the louder they whispered until, in the end, we told them to stay behind. That did the trick… come what may, they were not about to stay in the pitch-black riverbed by themselves. It was so dark that it was hardly possible to see the person in front without ducking down and trying to pick up a silhouette against the sky. We must have walked for about 20 minutes or so before we clambered out of the riverbed into the grain field. Once everyone was up, we all stood and listened and, after a short while, there was the unmistakable throat rumble of an elephant. Maybe someone else knew how close or far we were from the elephant, I didn’t have a clue! Paul whispered that Rob and I were to accompany him; I was given a three-cell torch to carry and off we set. In among the six-foot sorghum stalks there was no point in trying to see anyone; you just had to judge where the next person was by the sound of the stalks being brushed aside! I can remember thinking at the time that we could have passed so close to an elephant that he could have plucked any one of us up and no one would have known! Paul stopped. I felt him pulling me forward and he whispered the direction in which I was to shine the torch. The instant the beam went on, Paul’s double .500 cracked twice. I never even saw the elephant until it started to drop right in front of me. Before it hit the ground Paul had given it another two shots. And again before I knew it, we were all up against the elephant’s front legs, listening to the trumpeting and smashing of stalks as the other elephant fled from the lands. Not long after, we saw a few flickering lanterns coming towards us and, within minutes, there were at least 50 men, women and children around the carcass, waiting for the chief butcher to arrive and determine who was to do what. By the time we left, about an hour later, there was blood and guts everywhere and at least two lackeys inside the stomach cavity, hacking and chopping away. Back at camp, we could still hear the noise from the butchery, which went on late into the night. By the next morning only bloodstained, flattened stalks remained where the carcass had been, with a few vultures hopping about looking for scraps. More damage was done retrieving the meat that night than by the raiding elephants! Over the next few days we dealt with other complaints and thereafter Robin and I moved on into Omi Tribal Land. And from there, with intermittent breaks during the year, back into the tsetse areas to deal with pockets of elephant and buffalo that remained - I was learning what ‘experience’ meant!

Penduka Nzhou The elephant drive known as Penduka Nzou or “Go Back, Elephant”, was brought about as a result of the Department being pressured to clear the nine Controlled Hunting Areas of elephant and buffalo. The tempo was upped due to elephant and buffalo counts in the Valley, coupled with Tsetse Department’s need to have the CHAs free of these two species well in advance of hunting teams moving in to eliminate kudu, warthog, bushbuck and wild pig. The Department’s overall position was very satisfactory in all areas, with the exception of the Sessami CHA, where some two hundred elephant remained. To hasten removal of these animals, there was a shift in policy - to drive out the elephant, rather than to shoot them. The plan was to move the elephant out of the Sessami area, across the veterinary fence and into the Sengwa area. From the beginning, Penduka Nzhou silenced critics who were reputed to have said that herding elephants from the air would be impossible. Unfortunately the initial drive had to be abandoned due to the onset of the rains, when wet conditions made it impossible to carry out an operation of this magnitude - the bush was lush, jesse thickets all but impenetrable, and vehicles were continuously stuck in stream and river crossings. The three or four Land Rovers on loan from CMED Gokwe took a pounding as a result of Rangers driving into stumps,

Left:. The blown .470 – Dave and Boet Koen examine what remains of the rifle. (A year or so later the rifle was written off, then sold to Geoff Lynam in Sinoia who had the double re-barrelled and repaired. The rifle is now owned by an American hunter – Peter Richardson.) Roger Bull

Right. Early morning briefing — Standing: Robin Hughes and Angus Fraser; kneeling — unidentifiable, Don Aylward, Bruce Couper, Dave Scammell, Paul, unidentifiable, Norman Snr, unidentifiable. Roger Bull

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logs and ant bear holes, all of which were hidden in a tangled mass of greenery. On one drive Dave Scammell had a Westley Richards .470 double rifle blow up in his hands when the vehicle bounced high in the air and landed with a severe jolt. Luckily no one was injured. The weapon discharged both barrels - a bulge in one was responsible for the rifle exploding. July saw rangers, once again under the control and leadership of Paul Coetsee, moving into the Sessami Controlled Hunting Area and establishing camp at the Pokwe base, where a crude airstrip for the Department’s Super Cub had been fashioned out of the bush. Don Aylward, the District Commissioner Gokwe, provided assistance with equipment, labour and fuel; his input contributed greatly to the success of the operation. The method used was much the same; elephant were herded and manoeuvred by an aircraft, with ground support coming from experienced crews in Land Rovers. Assistance came from the military in the fields of transport and communications: for the July drive, three redundant Land Rovers were obtained from the army and renovated, and ground to air radios made available. Early in the morning, pilot Angus Fraser and Paul Coetsee would take off in search of elephant. Once located, the elephant were turned towards the game fence by skilful and often hair-raising flying - low swoops and dives necessitated by animals breaking away from the main group; a siren specifically fitted for the operation was frequently used from the diving aircraft to chivvy a herd along. Rangers and scouts in three Land Rovers were brought into place and positioned by Paul Coetsee to intercept the herd at a convenient distance from the fence; the rangers were much like sheep dogs - the elephant had to be kept moving and bunched, and breakaways brought back into line. Approaching the fence, which was cut at the last moment, the animals invariably seemed to sense they were being boxed in and tried to break back through the shepherding Land Rovers that were within yards of animals at the rear. At this stage, the elephant had to be stampeded by

Refuelling on the Pokwe airstrip Grettl Hughes

Far Left: Shortly before take-off Angus and Paul next to ‘Victor Yankee’ Grettl Hughes

Robin and Bruce watch the Super Cub touch down. Roger Bull

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Left: Spotting from the air - A herd of 30 plus elephant feeding below the Super Cub Paul Coetsee & Grettl Hughes

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Herded from the air, the herd bunches and starts off towards the fence. Paul Coetsee & Grettl Hughes

I think it was that there was complete teamwork and no killing involved - we were doing something for the benefit of those elephant.

Bruce on the air to Paul. Roger Bull

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An irate cow spins about to challenge the diving aircraft. Paul Coetsee & Grettl Hughes

Teams poised to move and awaiting instructions. Paul Coetsee

Left: With the fence in sight everyone moves in to chivvy the milling animals forward towards, and through, the prepared break in the fence. Roger Bull

Dave cuts the tsetse fence to allow the elephants easy passage through. Dave Scammell

Above left, right and below: Through the fence and the end of a successful drive. Roger Bull

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Looking for the approaching herd. Dave Scammell

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Paul and Angus ready to take off and another lesson about to begin for Paul. Paul Coetsee

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firing shots over their heads, throwing thunder flashes, and some pretty rash driving. Full credit goes to the Directorate for placing their trust in the competency of Paul Coetsee, who was very much in a league of his own when it came to dealing with elephant. No one can downplay the role of Rangers Clem Coetsee, Norman Payne (Snr), Dave Scammell, Robin Hughes, Bruce Couper and John Stevens. Angus Fraser, who piloted the Super Cub throughout the operation, deserves special mention - trained in crop spraying before joining the Department, Angus’s experience and skills played a pivotal role in the drive. Paul Coetsee regarded this elephant roundup as the most rewarding part of his career in Parks: I think it was that there was complete teamwork and no killing involved - we were doing something for the benefit of those elephant. We had Angus Fraser, who taught me to fly – I was flying the Super Cub with a stick from the back seat. When I went for my licence my instructor picked it up and asked “Where have you been flying to learn to land a tail dragger?” I did a lot of flying during the course of the drive. When things got rough we’d take a break and Angus and I would go off on a recce flight. Once we spotted mushrooms from the air. I called the chaps up on the radio and said, “Bring a Land Rover!” They collected heaps of mushrooms - enough to fill several galvanised baths. We ate them for a day and a half. After a drive, there was always some story or other that would come out over tea.

We once had a camera crew with us from the Department of Information, who were to produce an excellent documentary. The lad attending to the sound recordings had aptly acquired the name ‘Mike the Phone’. He evidently bailed out the first time an elephant turned back on the vehicle; the chaps weren’t happy about that, so they tied him onto the Land Rover with a piece of rope. Later a genuine charge ensued, which caused the rangers to hastily desert the vehicle… and ‘Mike the Phone’ was left where he was sitting and tied to the vehicle! On another day a helicopter flew in with an American pilot-cumcameraman and his lady friend, Lisa. During one of the drives things became chaotic; the Land Rovers stopped momentarily and Lisa decided to take advantage of the short pause to go to the toilet. She walked a little way off and squatted. I called over the radio, ‘Okay, go forward!’ She jumped up with her knickers round her ankles. The chaps on the vehicles couldn’t see the fun, but we had a bird’s eye view from the air. A total of 297 elephants were driven out of the Controlled Hunting Area in this manner and reports indicate 16 others left of their own accord. The operation was without doubt a resounding success and enhanced the already high reputation that Rhodesia enjoyed in the fields of wild life management and conservation. The End of Tsetse Operations As operations in the Southern Region were wound up in 1968, staff were withdrawn and tasked elsewhere in the Gonarezhou. In 1970, with a change in policy making Internal Affairs responsible for control work in the Tribal Lands, the Binga tsetse control post was abolished, and the Field Station moth-balled. In Northern Mashonoland, records show that minimal effort was required with respect to the hunting of elephant and buffalo in relation to tsetse fly control during 1969, enabling staff to concentrate their efforts on anti-poaching. During the year the base camps at Copper Queen and Lower Hunyani were also closed down. Little effort was required the following year and, to all intents and purposes tsetse operations in the north came to an end in 1971.

Signs of the times elsewhere: Despite intensive patrolling, Buffalo Range in the south east Lowveld lost 370 head of game (seventeen species) during 1980. Debriefings of arrested poachers indicate actual losses were more than double that figure. In May 1980 thirty gangs of poachers from Botswana were hunting elephant in the western parts of Wankie National Park. In Chirisa Safari Area, tens of kilometres of game fence were stolen and many hundreds of snares recovered. Sections of the lower Zambezi River were invaded by Zambian fish poachers in 1980 - some 200 kilometres of river was threaded with kilometres of their nets. In May, 28 Zambian fishermen were arrested with 3,791 kgs of fish, another 30 escaped. To curb their activities jet boats were brought onto the river. Initial results with these fast, shallow draught boats were spectacularly successful. Capable of speeds up to 100 kph they were ideal for the river, appearing as they did out of nowhere. Unfortunately the illegals soon recognised their noise and made sure they were well within Zambian waters. On the upper Zambezi around Katombora, fish poaching was also rife. Kilometres of nets were seized in one raid that saw a dozen or so Zambians arrested and jailed. THE DOTAMA INCIDENT, WANKIE NP 1980 – Mitchell (Mitch) Barnes In Wankie NP, the largest in the country and with an unfenced 200 kilometre international border with Botswana, the war and breakdown of law and order led to a serious increase in poaching, with armed poachers entering the Park from Botswana. The following account of what became known as ‘The Dotama Incident’ is related by Ranger Marc Baker and illustrates the style and frightening reality of these events. “Stationed at Wankie’s Umtshibi Management Unit in 1980, I was grading fire breaks in the west of the Park early in the dry season and saw vultures near Basha Pan. Checking it out, I found the carcass of an elephant shot a week or two previously with its tusks cut out. Based on its location, I guessed those responsible might be from Botswana. The tracks, though very old, seemed to be making a bee-line for the border, with the ivory loaded on donkeys. Interestingly, the human prints were all very small, indicating Bushmen probably responsible. “Some weeks later I talked Warden Clem Coetsee into letting me take a patrol back down there. Since he was still mad at me for the elephant calves that escaped from the pens at Umtshibi, I think he was happy to get rid of me! However, as the Management Unit was not involved with anti-poaching duties, Clem spoke to Boyd Reese, the Provincial Warden, and a joint patrol was agreed on; a Main Camp anti-poaching team under Roger Evans and an Umtshibi team under my control. “I remember on the drive down we thrashed out our modus operandi. We assumed the poachers were probably armed Masili Bushmen from the Nata district in Botswana; they would probably be very good hunters but not very military in their thinking. To catch them would require slightly different strategies to normal Parks anti-poaching patrol techniques. “We based up at Basha Pan, where there was fresh water, and set out on foot with our packs and one week’s supplies. There was still a little water in some pans from the previous rains. I remember I’d decided that, as we weren’t going to be up against guys with automatic weapons, I’d take a sweet little scoped .308 from Umtshibi in case I had to do some long range shots. Everybody else had either FNs or G3s. “Our first patrol consisted of Roger with two Main Camp scouts and me with two from the Management Unit. The rest of the scouts were left to mind our base camp, vehicle etc. In order not to alert the poachers we ‘anti-tracked’ all the time and I remember we were both pretty surprised when we came upon tracks, some 48 hours old, of poachers with donkeys on the afternoon of day one. “We started tracking and closing the gap on them. By late afternoon of the second day we realised these guys were not hunting, but were heading home and that, if they camped at all, it would be their last night in the Park. We needed a break. The tracks were leading down an interdune slope through mopane country, with leadwoods indicating the possibility of surface water. We guessed there was a strong likelihood of their basing up nearby.

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They would probably be very good hunters but not very military in their thinking.

Roger Evans – killed in a shoot-out with poachers from Botswana. Brian Evans

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“We were aware this was the dodgiest part of the operation because, as we closed with their base camp, we could bump into one of them and be compromised. So we decided to stop, drop our packs, and have just two guys go forward slowly and very carefully to recce ahead. Together with ‘Sarge’ Mangena and Makeko moving alternately, we made the first recce, leaving Roger and his guys to stay with the packs. Once we established it was clear ahead, we signalled to the others and all moved forward together. Just before dark, on our umpteenth slow forward recce, we spotted a tiny column of smoke coming from a stand of teak trees on the opposite side of a dune about a kilometre away. Knowing we’d hit the jackpot, we crawled back to where we’d left Roger and the others, and sat tight waiting for dark. I remember we were at or near a pan called Dotama. “We waited until around 8 or 9 p.m. when I again recce’d forward with Makeko. There was still talking around the campfire, which we could hear from a distance. But after about an hour it went quiet, so we returned to fetch the others. Roger insisted we should try to arrest them and only shoot if they resisted, so on that basis we snuck forward to their position, closing in at about midnight. There was a good moon and we were able to ascertain that they had no guard posted and were all asleep together, in a bunch under their blankets. “From their spoor we knew there were four of them, so the plan was that each of our four scouts would grab one poacher, while Roger and I covered them. We crept forward to the edge of the glow cast by the dying fire, staying in the tree shadows cast by the moonlight. I gave the hand signal and our scouts dived in with handcuffs. One of the poachers broke free from one of my guys, ducked behind a teak tree and kept running. I took off after him, shouting at him to stop and after a short chase I shot him. I returned quickly to the poachers’ base camp, and found the others had all been subdued and handcuffed. Pretty pleased with ourselves, we went back, collected our packs and ‘possied’ up at their campfire. The next morning we buried the body, loaded up their donkeys and, with the three arrested poachers, returned to Basha. “About half way back, we crossed tracks of another poacher group. We knew our patrol was very close to being compromised, so we dashed for Basha, offloaded, re-supplied, turned around and headed straight back… and onto the tracks of the second group. I remember, that first evening on those tracks, actually tracking in the moonlight with Makeko. We needed to close with them fast and he was the best! I also recall these tracks crossing the spoor of the first group that we’d been tracking, so we were uncertain whether we’d been compromised or not. Had they seen our tracks following their colleagues? With hindsight, probably not; because what transpired was very similar. Our plan had been successful the first time so we agreed to repeat it. We located their base camp near a drying waterhole without being compromised. I recollect spotting one guy, squeezed up against the side of an anthill, ambushing game. It was a hand movement - I think swatting a fly - that gave him away. We had hit the jackpot again. “We lay low until dark and then went closer for a recce. They were all sitting in a circle next to the fire chattering excitedly. Later Makeko said they were throwing their ‘matambo’ - bone fortune-telling tablets. Then it went quiet and, sure enough they all crept into a heap together under their blankets. I went back and fetched Roger and the other scouts and we left our packs in a heap. Again Roger insisted on arresting them. He was an ex cop, and in hindsight I have kicked myself hundreds of times for not arguing this through with him more forcefully. But anyway, we just snuck back in on them. It was almost the same scenario as before, creeping between their tethered donkeys and thankful they were so quiet and unexcited.

brachial artery and tie it off. I explained what I was going to do to Mangena and why. He showed incredible bravery while I amputated his arm with my Swiss army knife. I was able to get a good clean angle on the bleeding blood vessels, particularly that darn artery that gave me so much trouble. I tied it off and managed to stop blood loss completely. “The chaps were now all very freaked out. In the teak woods on that still night you could hear rustling in the dead leaves – rats and mice of course, or perhaps small game heading to the pan - but the scouts were convinced we were being attacked by more bad guys, and I remember having to shoot at shadows and check the perimeter frequently to calm them. I suspected all in the poaching party were dead, but did not know for sure, so I guess I was on edge too. I recall getting Chiwala to keep piling wood onto the fire to get enough light to see what I was doing. It was a very, very long night. “Near dawn I threw up a dipole aerial, tuned in my TR 28 radio and waited for the tourist office and Thelly Newmarch or one of the other girls on duty to open up at 7 a.m., as they routinely did. Eventually I got Clem on the air on ‘704’ at the Management Unit. I was relieved to hear his voice and gave him a quick sitrep. Fortunately I had map-read to where we were, and hadn’t just relied on the scouts who were now in no state to assist. In that generally featureless terrain I gave Clem the best locstat I could. He got back to me a short time later with the good news that he’d somehow managed to get use of an Alouette helicopter from Wankie. Chiwala and I dragged together a huge pile of leadwood logs in the clear area next to the pan, made a fire and then laid out a line of leafy branches. As soon as I heard the chopper later that morning we threw all the branches into the pan and then, still wet, onto the fire and got a pretty good smoke column going; the chopper came in… a piece of cake. “Clem got out and warned me that fuel was low, so we quickly loaded Makeko and Mangena who was holding his arm, and Roger and Dennis’s bodies, and the chopper headed back. Fuel was a big issue because we were so far out. Talking to the chopper pilot later, he said he’d been on the point of turning back when Clem spotted our smoke. We hadn’t taken ground-to-air VHF comms as no one expected the need to talk to an aircraft! “After that, Clem, Chiwala and I buried the poachers, packed up and loaded their

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CHAPTER 7: POACHING, POACHERS & POLICING

“Again, on our signal, the scouts dived in to subdue the poachers with handcuffs and fists. And again one broke free from the same scout as previously, I think Chiwala. Once again, I didn’t have a clear shot, because the poacher ducked behind the huge teak tree they had all been sleeping under. I dashed after him and got a clear shot some short distance down a trail. “I then recall hearing gunfire open up behind me at the campfire. Initially I thought it was Roger, but as I ran back I could hear the shots were from a bolt-action rifle, not one of ours. In that instant I realised what was happening so I crept up behind the teak tree where they’d been sleeping. There was a muzzle flash and crack from the other side of the fire, followed by the sound of the bolt action being reworked. In the dim patchy light I saw a crouched man aiming his rifle and shot him. Later that night I noted that my shot had taken him through the neck and that he had a wound on his right wrist; on his left wrist were the handcuffs, the right cuff having been shot off! “I came around the teak tree and there, scattered around the pile of poachers’ blankets were the bodies of Roger Evans and Dennis Kasesse dead, and Mangena and Makeko wounded. Confused about what the hell was going on and seeing the other poachers trying to escape I shot them. Chiwala later appeared; he’d taken cover nearby. Then began a nervewracking and very long night, attending to the two wounded scouts. Makeko had a clean bullet hole through his thigh, thankfully missing the femur and femoral artery. But Mangena had been shot through the wrist, the bullet exiting at the elbow, which was far more serious. I ascertained later, from the poachers’ Brno .375 that had a five shot magazine and still had one round in the chamber; that it was loaded with silver tips - expanding soft-nose bullets, which explained the mess Mangena’s arm was in. I tied his arm up tight to stop the bleeding and ran back for my medic pack which was in my backpack a few hundred yards away, and then commenced the unenviable task of trying to get a drip into a man with seriously low blood pressure and collapsed veins - in the dark. After a dozen haematomas and still no drip in place, I really had to stop blood loss completely. His shattered arm was an incredible mashed up mess, so I decided the best thing to do was to cut it off cleanly so I could find the

Wankie Wall of Remembrance – Roger Evans and Dennis Kasesse’s memorial plaques. Mike Bromwich

donkeys with our gear, and walked out to the road. I remember it being a power march of note, coming out on the road between Mvalasangwane and Ngwasha where we were met by rangers and trucks from Main Camp late that night. “My interpretation of what happened is - one of the poachers must have been lying with his rifle under the blankets. So, while I was chasing the runaway and the guys jumped them, he was handcuffed, but somehow broke free and grabbed his rifle. Roger then opened up on him, but incredibly only managed to shoot the handcuff off his wrist; the poacher then nipped behind a tree on the other side of the fire and banged off four shots, killing Roger and Dennis Kasesse and wounding Mangena and Makeko. He’d just reloaded his fifth round when I returned. Granted it was only about fifteen foot range that he shot them at, but still impressive. - My neck shot may have been the most important shot of my life, and - The other shot (Roger’s) that severed the handcuffs was the unluckiest shot of his life. (Those handcuffs were in the Main Camp museum but I don’t know if they’re still there.) - The smoke signal we put up to bring the chopper in, with only a minute or two of fuel to spare, may have been the most important thing in Mangena’s life because he was pretty far gone from loss of blood when we got him aboard. “Later we put a wooden hand on Sgt Mangena and issued him with a revolver and he led his anti-poaching stick for many years very successfully. Makeko, also made up to Sergeant, was later responsible for what I think was the longest follow-up of the Rhino War – from Ngamo in the south eastern corner of Wankie NP, to Katombora on the Zambezi above Vic Falls which, in a straight line is about 270 kilometres. “I remember the court cases in Wankie for the poachers we arrested during the first contact. They had Botswana citizen hunting permits for elephant, but were shooting on our side of the border and selling the ivory in their own country. The Bushmen were organised and armed by a Motswana from Francistown and operated from Nata, a village close to the park boundary; one of the gang was Daniel Maphosa - a close relative of the MP for Francistown.” DEBRIEFING SHADRECK, GONAREZHOU PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER 1 – Koos Herbst Shadreck, although only operating in the Gonarezhou, was our number one poacher on the wanted list and very much a legend in the Rhodesian lowveld. From the late 1960s, when his elephant poaching activities first became known, every Warden and Ranger in the region was after him. I cannot think of any other poacher in Rhodesia, or later in Zimbabwe, as notorious as Shadreck. John Osborne in A Ranging Son mentions Shadreck time and time again, and classifies him as an out-and-out villain. In Gonarezhou – A place for Elephants Colin Saunders recounts a few of Shadreck’s exploits, including his second arrest as result of an undercover operation run by Sgt. Zephania and Ranger Pete Westrop from Mabalauta. Another to record some of Shadreck’s exploits, including his third arrest, was Keith Meadows in Sometimes When it Rains. Ron Thomson, who had direct dealings with Shadreck during the latter years of the bush war,

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ensued immediately after Len’s untimely death. I saw Willem in Wankie Colliery hospital only hours after the incident, head and arms wrapped up - looking much like an Egyptian mummy, with several hundred stitches in his head, and one dislodged eye pushed back into its socket. When I walked up to the bedside I asked the ultimate stupid question, “Howzit Willem?” Being totally blindfolded, he said, “Who’s that?” I said “Graham,” and he replied in that high-pitched voice of his, “No, I’m OK, how are you? Take a seat man!” Such was the big-heartedness of the man. Totally fearless, very much a dark horse, sincerely gregarious among his kind, and as unselfish as anyone can possibly be. If I close my eyes and think of Willem I get flashbacks and freeze-frames of him in varied circumstances— I see him as the virtual mummy, prostrate in Wankie hospital, himself, in spite of his plight, enquiring as to others’ welfare; I see him treating the snare wound on the trunk of an elephant that he’d just darted at arm’s length, causing me to wash my underwear in the nearby Lundi river. I see him in the back seat of my Super Cub, fearlessly directing me to fly ever lower among the trees in the Zambezi Valley. I see him with tears on his cheeks when his beloved bull terrier, Moshe Dayan, died at his camp in Wankie National Park. I see him on buffalo spoor, walking in front of me carrying his double .470; hard for me to keep up with him, in spite of his ever painful ankles injured in his army gymnastic days. I see him at the Parks storage facility in Victoria Street, De Beer’s Motors, helping Parks staff with their Land Rover problems. I see him sitting in a jail cell in Kariba during the terrorist war. I see his broad smile with the everpresent teacup in hand, and with lips tightly puckered after ‘sweetening’ his tea with several spoons of salt. And I see the lost look on his face when Hazel died. One is always expected to say nice things about someone when they pass away, warranted or not. In Willem’s case I preach to the already converted in saying that he epitomised “What you see is what you get”. While he didn’t suffer fools much, and had a convincing way of imparting that sentiment, if he liked you he’d gladly have done anything for you, even to his own detriment. The old adage of giving one the

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shirt off one’s back is often exaggerated, but in Willem’s case it was actually true. He was, quite simply, a sincerely nice person who took great pleasure in pleasing his mates. I am sorry that I didn’t spend more time with him towards the end. Quality time with his friends meant so much to him; he so often said, “Don’t leave so soon! Have another cuppa; spend the night.” He earnestly meant it, always wanting just a little more of your company. Willem, go well, and may you be in a place where tea and chocolate are abundant. May you watch from your vantage point the elephant bulls climbing up the banks of the Nuanetsi at Mabalauta, and may you ever be able to watch the skimmers flying low over the Zambezi at sundown. Give JC Tebbit your snappiest salute when you see him after all this time; convey our salaams to Old, and young, Norman Payne, and Bruce Austin, and Clem Coetsee. Also to Mr. Ball, and Harry Cantle. Say hello for us to Kerry Fynn, and Rob Hughes, and Paul Read, Tommy Orford, Tinkey Haslam, Rupert Fothergill, Len Harvey and to all the other Parks guys you may bump into wherever you make camp. Keep your beret cocked over your left eye, four fingers between your stockings and your kneecaps and, last but not least, give Hazel a big hug and a kiss from Colin and the rest of us here. We salute you Warden De Beer. Rest assured, you are sadly missed by those of us you leave behind and by the African wild life you so dedicatedly lived for. See you later my friend. Respectfully, Graham Hall. UNFOLDING THE LAND EXTRACTS FROM TIM WELLINGTON’S LETTERS TO HIS FIANCÉ

The public image of the quintessential ranger fairly reeks of testosterone—rugged strength, irrepressible courage, good humour and imperturbable confidence cram the pigeonhole in which rangers are filed in popular perceptions. There is, of course, another side, as these extracts of letters display show. Tim’s passion was wildlife. Schooled at Michaelhouse in Natal and, having spent some

time in Kwa Zulu Natal as a Game Control Officer, Tim joined the Department in or about 1974 - exact date unknown. Fairly early on in his short career in Rhodesia he volunteered for the SAS and passed the harsh and stringent selection course of the country’s elite Special Forces unit. Tim was an exceptional ranger with an innate love of nature and he never tired of learning or spending time in the bush. Jenny Bay, then Tim’s fiancé and later his widow (now Mrs Jennifer Pelham), gave permission for the publication of excerpts from his letters to her, a fragile, folded handful of his thoughts and experiences at Mana Pools.

Elephant reaching for Acacia albida pods on the Mana flood plain John White

MANA POOLS – UNDATED (EXTRACT) Miss Jennifer Bay, I will end off to you with a few lines of my feelings— in today’s totally unbalanced world, a foot patrol must be the ultimate experience. Spend some time amongst

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CHAPTER 8: BIOGRAPHIES & JOURNALS

MANA POOLS - 10TH AUGUST 1977 Getting back to Mana was such a pleasure – I seem to enjoy it and appreciate everything more on each successive return. The few of us down here are certainly privileged. The bush in general is now very dry, most of the trees having dropped their leaves, and the branches and twigs seem to be grasping at the empty air. Large areas of the valley and escarpment have been burnt for security reasons. Is it not ironic that the very land we have been spending so much effort to conserve we now have to denude and rape in a desperate effort to be able to save it? The trees on the Zambezi banks and the flood plain are obviously still green although the grass is completely flattened. The Acacia albidas are now heavy with their seeds, the pods almost pulling the branches down. Soon they will be ripe and elephant will appear by the hundred to eat the nutritious food that the seed-pods present and one can see some amazing sights. Old bulls standing on their back feet, reaching twenty-odd feet into the air, the wrinkled, hard, powerful and yet so sensitive trunks slowly feeling for the curly, yellow, twisted pods high up amongst the thorns. Great branches, the thickness of a man, are brought crashing down, the elephant moving on after a few mouthfuls and so allowing the impala, kudu, bushbuck and other lesser beasts a share of the rewards. I was pleased to see Tore [Ranger Tore Balance] when I got back as he had news that he and a National Serviceman had just seen a long-crested eagle. I had seen what I believed to be this bird about a month ago, but no one else would believe me as this is principally a mountain species and has never been recorded in the Zambezi Valley before. But now that it has been confirmed, it rests one’s mind. Of course the birds here are of tremendous interest, now being a time for collecting with so many species starting to breed. I wonder if you were fortunate enough whilst in Chewore to see any colonies of whitefronted or carmine bee-eaters nesting? If not, it is an unforgettable sight, with thousands of birds, brilliantly marked, swooping, dashing and diving, squabbling and screaming in and out of their nest tunnels in a high riverbank. To stand on the bank above the honeycombed colony and to stamp one’s feet results in an explosion of coloured feathers as the birds burst out into the sunlight. The African Skimmer, a strikingly-marked bird as well, should be arriving here soon to breed in October. This bird feeds by flying inches above the water with the lower section of its bill in the water actually scooping up food, hence the name. Wow! I seem to be getting rather carried away, but if one can share and pass on such experiences they seem to me a lot more. If you are bored by this time it must be my writing because what I am trying to say is far from dreary to me.

the animals; suckle on nature’s earthly breast, for it is in them we see man’s true shortcomings, his trivialities and absurdities of modern living. Let the wilderness—what man cannot create nor even improve on— be your teacher and textbook. Wake, and rise in the still black dawn, eyes thick with the past night’s sleep. The red flickering flames of the twisted mopane logs light up your companion’s features—a black moustache and ruffled curly hair, stubble on the chin, the faint sweet smell of sweat; the water taking too long to boil; the good feeling of your pack as a new day’s walking begins. The soft sand sinking with the fall of boots, crunching grains being flicked forward. Gentle warm colours on a sheer red riverbank as the returning sun rises, drying the dew from the lowlying grass. Let a path take you up the bank and under the old black trees, out through long rank grass and bushes, branches pulling at your belongings or whipping your follower’s face, into the mopane stands—short grass and giant trees dwarfing one into insignificance.

Tim setting up his camera Jenny Pelham

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MANA POOLS – UNDATED You want me to tell you about Mana? Well, if this letter could bring the valley to you it would have everything in it. The rocky, stony, shaley, rough grassed escarpment, torn and divided by rivers, gorges and streams. Water courses, dry and boulder-strewn, mica blinding the eyes, reflecting in the winter sun. Dark, bottomless pools, broken only by the trapped, rising barbel, and the bees swarming and sucking up the moisture in the fast-drying sand. It would have in it the gushing, swearing siltfilled torrents of the rains; the waterlogged slopes sliding down turning clear water into coffee. It would take you up the elephant paths winding contours (did you think the Romans were good road builders?). See the Brachystegia trees—molten ore in the spring, shade-giving green with the summer, awry and crooked after a winter fire has debagged them to a sad grey, or the stark white trunks of the trees the elephants have visited, the bark hanging in torn fingers. The mountains—blue in the early morning distance, disappearing in the haze - a reassuring guardian for the valley. If this letter could paint you a picture, land would unfold at your feet—depending on the season, green land or grey—land stretching to the eye’s limit and still continuing. Land! Land of perhaps Mopane trees, leaves so green, tall grey barked trunks, hollow bowls—some cracked and twisted, short fine feathered grass and squirrels; land of open grass, tall and coarse, bitter and unpalatable. Lonely land avoided by the game; land of jesse bushes, thick impenetrable and foreboding off the paths; open bare land once supporting people, still suffering from its mistreatment; land along the rivers—large trees, creepers, palms, grass, bareness, thickness, cover, all this land and more you will find. And along with the land are the creatures.

Jenn, please believe me, but I am going to have to end this letter. So sorry but something has happened… and the transport leaves tomorrow.

Tim, knee deep in water on the Mana flood plain. Dave Peddie

MANA POOLS – 13TH JANUARY 1979 (EXTRACTS) As you no doubt realised from my last letter, Kerry [Pilot/Ranger Kerry Fynn— Helicopter Pilot 7 Squadron Rhodesian Air Force] was killed in action on New Year’s Day. What actually happened no one is certain except that two helicopters collided killing six people, one person escaping. They were involved in a contact and it is very likely that one of the aircraft was hit and whilst out of control went into the other craft. I managed to get a flight out from here to Salisbury on Sunday evening to attend the funeral. As you can imagine, there were many people there and

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CHAPTER 8: BIOGRAPHIES & JOURNALS

MANA – 29TH JUNE 1978 On Monday Dolf [Ranger Dolf Sasseen] and myself returned from a patrol we did to Chewore. We planned to be out for about ten to twelve days, but unfortunately had to cut the patrol short as our radio communications failed us completely and we returned to Mana after only eight days. Despite this it was really one of the best weeks I have spent down here in the valley. The shortest route to Chewore is following the Zambezi down, which is what we did, a distance of about eighty kilometres. The river has two floodgates at Kariba still spilling and so one cannot walk much on the flood plain as this is still water-bound in many places. About fifteen kilometres before the confluence of the Zambezi and the Chewore rivers the Zambezi River starts narrowing down. Here the Acacia albidas give way to the giant Diospyros [ebony] trees. These grow on steep banks going right down to the water’s edge. Under the canopy, the forest, although not very wide, is dark and sheltered and the sun filters through, warming and painting the undergrowth into light greens and yellows. We found an old elephant bull along this section of the river with beautiful tusks—he was not perturbed when we quietly filed past him, just giving us a casual glance and continuing his slow eating, his trunk gently and deftly plucking the small leaves off a thorny acacia tree. The Chewore River was still flowing well and the water was clean and quite cool. One day we shot a young impala with a silenced weapon we had with us. We had been walking all day and were far from our packs, which we had hidden in the bush. A fire was made and the liver, kidneys and inside fillets were cooked on the hot coals. Although I have often eaten meat like this I don’t think I will forget those few moments—the tremendous feeling of being out, far from any of the world’s complications, the meat fresh and hot, the animal’s blood on our hands, the slightly muddy water of the river (sounds like we are reverting to become primitive, but I enjoyed it). Game was not all that abundant, most of it still being spread out, relying on the still good water supplies. There are some lovely big impala herds around at the moment and small buffalo herds seem to be moving down closer to the Zambezi. We did see a lot of rhino and a nice pride of lion at a place called Mtawa-Mtawa Pools. Mtawa-Mtawa Pools is a necklace of pools on the flood plain in the Sapi Controlled Hunting Area. Kalahari sand forest comes right up to the water and we sat in the seclusion of these trees one day at last light and experienced the day coming to an end—the white-faced ducks whistling overhead; guinea fowl with their harsh cracklings, black silhouettes coming in to roost; the hippo stirring and playing restlessly in the calm water, becoming impatient for the night’s grazing. The lions brought us back to reality, coming upon us silently, their inquisitive faces peering at us intently from the dark shadows. That night we heard them roaring close by—a fitting tribute to a fine day.

all in all it was a very sad day. Sarah seems to have taken everything so well, but I do believe the magnitude of her loss will hit her later when things have quietened down. One can only hope she and her children will be okay. Graham Hall flew Dave Peddie [new Research Officer for the Zambezi Valley] and myself down here yesterday. Dave is having a look around his area so he can get a basic idea of what lies ahead of him. His ultimate task is to draw up an impact statement on why the Mupata Gorge dam must not be built. As you can imagine, this is a mammoth task and certainly important. Apparently the powers in charge have said that if there is a real settlement and money is available, work on the dam will commence within one year.

Left: Tim and Dolf – the best of pals Jenny Pelham Right: Memorial Plaque at Mana Pools, which is still in place – Tore Balance (June 2013) Tony Ferrar Below: Memorial Plaque at Mukwa where Tim was killed Jenny Pelham

The country on the whole so far this season does not appear to be having very good rains and in many areas crops are failing. Of course temperatures are very high. We were lucky here last night and got just under an inch. Most pans in the valley are full but I think this was due to the very high water table from last year’s rains. Grass cover on the flood plain is not much over four feet at present, but with the rain from last night it might get a move on now. 17TH JANUARY 1979 I was hoping that I would have time to write to you some more in this letter but with the Research Officer being down here for the first time he is keen to see as much as he can and so we have been busy. He is flying back to Kariba this morning so I will give this letter to him for posting. Senior Ranger Tim Wellington was tragically killed by an elephant in Wankie National Park on the 24th of October, 1979 OF BAOBABS, OIL AND EVERYTHING ELSESELECTED STORIES FROM ROB FRANCIS Up to the time I joined the Southern Rhodesia Game Department, the biggest rifle I had ever fired was a .22 Hornet. When I joined the Department, I was given a short-barrel Double .500 Westley Richards. I was terrified of the weapon. I was sent down to the Zambezi Valley,

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Peter Guy

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CHAPTER 9: RESEARCH & SCIENTIFIC MANAGEMENT

REFLECTIONS OF A RESEARCH OFFICER – Peter Guy As a botanist at Mana Pools, I was given a number of tasks by the CRO (W) Roelf Attwell; the list included the following: • Establishing what species of plants grew in the Zambezi Valley: At one time I could identify about 1 200 species, including the grasses! I collected several species from various parts of the Valley that were new locality records in that the species had not been recorded from the area before. The Chewore Wilderness Area was especially lucrative in this regard because not many people had been into the area. Every time I noted a new plant, I’d collect leaves and, if it was flowering, the flowers, and press them. Once I had a reasonable stack, I’d take my plant press when I went to town and have Bob Drummond at the National Herbarium identify the plants for me. He was amazingly good and was seldom, if ever, stumped by any of the plants collected. • Mapping the vegetation types in the Zambezi Valley: I used aerial photographs for this work and once I had delineated different vegetation types on the photos, I’d go into the field and identify major species present. • Establishing enclosures that could be used to examine what would happen to plants in the absence of animals. This involved setting up one-hectare enclosures that were meant to keep out all wildlife species being surrounded by ditches about one metre deep and one metre wide. The idea was to see what might happen to the vegetation if the plants were allowed to grow without being fed on. The ditches seldom worked as elephants were far too smart for us and could, if they wished, swing themselves over the short distance and even in some cases kick the dirt in and make a bridge. Much time was spent working on digging out the bridges, but little progress was made because animals were always getting in. • Establishing growth rates of the major food species. Measuring the growth rates of species was not easy because no sooner had I marked a twig to measure how quickly it was growing than an animal came and chewed off the new leaves! We constructed enclosures of about one hectare to keep animals away but they weren’t always effective. • Establishing germination rates of the major food species: To establish the germination rates, I’d gather seeds of the various tree species and plant them in flats with the appropriate

soil mixture and count how many plants emerged. It was not a very successful project because we learned, through trial and error, that many species needed to pass through the intestines of animals before they’d germinate. The literature wasn’t really helpful in this regard, and after a year or two of this work we called a halt. • Determining feeding preferences of the major species, including elephants, impala and buffalo: Establishing feeding preferences was slightly easier because it involved recording what species animals were feeding on every time we were out on the floodplain. Soon a fairly substantial data bank built up, but for the most part it served to confirm what we already knew. •••

1966 - Marking elephant in Mana Tony Ferrar

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Mike Kerr, who’d been stationed at Mana for a couple of years before I arrived, was involved in some of the early work on elephant movement, so we darted elephants and then painted them—this was before collars were thought of! We used marine paint, assuming it would last longer, but it didn’t. Instead, we had elephants walking around with huge yellow symbols on their rears and ears that lasted a few days. It was exciting work because we used a crossbow to fire the darts and had to be close enough to ensure the dart went in. We then used collars made of conveyor belting that were a whole lot more permanent. The collars had symbols cut out of aluminium riveted onto them, so it was easy to identify animals and report their location. With this information Mike was able to plot their movements and determine their home ranges. The winters of 1971 and 1972 were an incredibly exciting time for us – we camped out virtually 100 percent of the time, moving around the Mana, Sapi and Rukomechi floodplains to where the animals had concentrated, culling or capturing them; captured animals were sold to farmers and those culled were processed and all sorts of biological data collected from them—an amazing and exciting life! Much biological information was collected from culling. We numbered each and took weight, girth, length, length of hind foot measurements on the spot, and sometimes randomly took a jaw to assign an age to the animal. We also sampled uteri, ovaries and testes. As with the feeding records, we soon built up a very comprehensive data bank that was used to assess population and growth rates of each species being examined. We took information from as many species as possible, but concentrated on buffalo, impala and elephant. Culling programs went on through the night, starting soon after the sun went down and ending once the quota for that night had been reached—this meant some nights we’d get to bed at a reasonable time and other nights we’d work through to the early hours. As and when elephants would be culled during the day, these were busy times! We took shoulder height measurements by locking the forelegs in place and measuring from the sole to the top of the shoulder; we’d measure the length of tusks, circumference of the forefoot, body length and one or two other measurements. After we’d done what we needed on the outside of the animals, we’d cut them open and take out the reproductive organs. If the animal were female, we’d examine the

10-metre wide transect that ran parallel to one of the transects that Dave Cumming had set up; he collected a vast amount of information by having game scouts walk the transects each day for about two weeks a month noting all the animals they saw! The transect was about five kilometres long, and information on all plants in a belt ten metres wide and five kilometres long was collected. The game scouts, mostly Zaccheus Mahlangu, Peterson Kagoro and Henry Charidza, and I collected an enormous amount of useful information over a couple of years. I was able to use this to measure the woody biomass of the area and assess the amount of damage to plants. We also collected information from Miombo woodland using the same methods. Much of the information had to be collected during the rainy season, which meant at times swimming the flooded Lutope River—probably not the wisest thing to have done, but we did it anyway. Another thing I did was to set up permanent panoramas to monitor changes taking place in woodlands over time. The central point was carefully located, marked, and a 360 degree panorama taken. There were about 15 of these sites representing most vegetation types. In the three years I was at Sengwa, parts of the woodland underwent dramatic changes, others very little. Over time I managed to build up a good herbarium, with most plants occurring in the area represented. The plants were preserved using mercuric chloride, that I later learned was an awful chemical, which was exactly why it was used to keep insects out of preserved specimens! I wonder what it’s done to me in the long term! Rowan Martin was doing pioneering work on the radio tracking of elephants, so some of our time was spent on that. The game scouts actually tracked elephants using towers that we’d located on high spots, and then we plotted elephant movements on maps of the research area and Chirisa—some fascinating stuff came out of that work. I remember three marked elephants converging on a pan in Chirisa for about an hour before dispersing, and wondering how they’d sent the message out to indicate where they were to meet, and why they met. (I still wonder!) We also fitted collars designed and constructed by Rowan - to impala and, I think, we had a couple of collared kudu running around as well. Martyn Murray did the work on the impala; we all became involved later when Clem Coetsee, Warden Wankie

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uterus and see if she was pregnant or not and then measure the size and weight of the foetus. We found that there were two sizes—small or large. Because of the seasonal breeding pattern; the young had been conceived either in the previous rainy season or the rainy season before that. As far as I recall, each year we’d cull up to 300 elephants. Some meat was taken by local tribesmen living outside the reserve; much was left for the hyaenas, vultures and other scavengers. Tusks were weighed and measured and sent through to the Head Office. After completing my MSc in Tropical Resource Ecology, I was stationed at Sengwa, which operated slightly differently from other stations run by Parks, in that work done there was by and large research oriented. I often said that if we’d wanted to paint the lions purple we could have done so, because we didn’t have tourists to worry about. My work there was heavily involved with elephants and the effects they were having on the woodlands. I built on the work Rowan Martin (MSc Solid State Physics), had done for his Certificate in Field Ecology, and the work Doug Anderson had done for his Masters thesis the year before under Brian Walker. But as at Mana, I got involved in a lot of other kinds of work. Rowan Martin was working on building radio collars for elephants and other animals, so some of my time was spent darting or capturing the animals to which the collars were to be fitted. Dave Cumming had completed his work on warthogs and spent a year at Oxford soon after I arrived at Sengwa. The Institute was a great place to work, the offices overlooking mopane woodlands northward, and Dave Cumming had sited and designed it very well. We operated under an advisory committee that consisted of the CRO (W) Roelf Attwell and Professors Geoff Bond and Einar Bursell. The committee met every six months or so and we were required to report progress with regard to individual projects. It was a good way to operate because we were expected to show results and justify what we were doing. Something I really enjoyed were the afternoon teas in the library—on occasions they developed into a really good debate with an exchange of ideas—it was like being back at university all over again. One of the major pieces of work I did was to measure the height, amount of damage, canopy and stem diameters etc. of all plants, i.e., trees, shrubs, herbs, and grasses, in a

Management Unit, came across and, using the same techniques employed at Mana, herded impala into a boma by helicopter. Many were tagged with radio collars, some were fitted with ordinary conveyor belting collars and some had their ears clipped. Tooth impressions were taken from representative individuals. In this way, Martyn was able to build up a lot of information on their movements and social interactions, leading to a PhD. I also remember fitting collars to lions, which involved sitting up all night playing tape recordings of lions feeding. The roaring and calling would attract a pride to a buffalo carcass that had been slung high in a mopane tree; the lions were darted when they came within range. The drug kept them ‘out of things’ for quite a long period, allowing us plenty of time to fit collars and collect data and measurements. Looking at the effects of fires on the vegetation was quite a big part of our research. Each year we had fires come through the area - started, I believe, mostly by poachers. We did what we could to put the fires out but, due to the wide fronts, weren’t always successful in controlling them, resulting in huge areas being burnt out. The boundaries of the fires were plotted on maps; we then tried superimposing maps on top of each other to find out which areas were burnt annually, which were burnt every two years and so on—it was very difficult and would be much easier now, with development of computer geographic information systems. Several useful papers came of the work we did, helping further our knowledge of the animals we worked with. It was a fantastic life and I often said that I was being paid for my hobby, and still feel the same way. •••

Chizarira - the impact of elephant on Brachystegia boehmii Peter Thomson

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Research Officer Peter Thomson was posted to Chizarira in January 1971. Among his various projects (which included building up a comprehensive user-friendly herbarium, collecting data on large mammal population demography to track trends, establishing many fixed-point photographs to monitor broad changes in vegetation over time, developing a black rhino sighting database and collaborating with his conservation colleagues in formulation of a fire management plan) two are singled out. ELEPHANTS, TREES AND FIRE AT CHIZARIRA – Peter Thomson One of the most challenging problems at Chizarira in the early ‘70s, when I was posted there as the first resident Research Officer, was what to do about the impact of elephants on the Brachystegia boehmii (Prince of Wales feathers) woodland of the plateau. Trees were being killed by elephants ring barking, uprooting or felling, and damaged by removal of bark and branches, this leading to attack by fungi and borers followed by fire damage and, eventually, death. Such problems were exacerbated by widespread annual burning, which inhibited the replacement of trees by seedling growth and reduced availability of other food during the late winter months. Examination of aerial photographs indicated that the elephant ‘onslaught’ was a relatively recent phenomenon, and measurement of mature trees indicated that they were much the same vintage (attempts to age them using a special auger and counting growth rings were not successful). Questions – under what conditions did the woodland

What does one learn from this sort of thing? The questions remained – • What had happened in Chizarira in the distant past for the woodland to develop and what had happened more recently, leading to the elephant onslaught? • Did the building of Kariba and the movement of people into the hinterland have anything to do with it? • Had this resulted in increased fire frequency? • Had fire been so widespread that it reduced the availability of alternative food to the point that the elephants were forced to turn to big trees? • Had dry season competition for water forced more elephants from the tribal land into the Park? • What role did the tsetse control operations play? What I learnt is that we don’t think in long enough time spans. Most of us have, more-or-less, the allocated three score and ten years of life and our experience grows with this, so we might not be too wise in our relative youth. We tend to think in decades at most, but natural processes can take centuries. Knee-jerk, once-off management action has small chance of success in the long term; careful, outcomes-based plans must be developed and sustained, with constant monitoring and review in order to adapt future action to past results. Unfortunately all sorts of other things impinged on management at Chizarira—the war, political upheaval, changing conservation philosophy and capacity, and Zimbabwe’s economic meltdown - and today the Park does not at all resemble the Chizarira of the 1970s.

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develop? What triggered the elephant damage (as opposed to utilisation)? Had fire frequency and extent increased in recent time? What impact was this having on the system as a whole and what should be done about it? I put in 11 monitoring plots on Siamagogas Ridge, each comprising 100 mature trees individually marked with numbered tags, and recorded what was going on over a period of three years. Many trees had been killed outright and most had sustained damage that would result in their death in the future. This led to the prediction that, if nothing were done, the boehmii woodlands of Siamagogas Ridge would be destroyed within the next five-and-a-half years. The damage was being done by herds of elephants, not just bulls, and it seemed to me that the obvious solution - simply reducing the elephant population - would probably not make much difference other than slowing the process. How long, and under what conditions, does it take for woodland to establish? What about the impact of fire? Obviously less frequent burning would allow for seedling survival and growth, but what frequency? To examine this question I established a firefree plot near the Park headquarters and measured sapling growth. Something had to be done and, after much debate, it was decided to remove 400 of the estimated dry season population of 1 500 elephants and to give the meat to surrounding tribesmen in return for better control by them of fire in their adjacent land, and agreement that no fires would be started in the Park (by people who shouldn’t have been there anyway). The firebreak network would be extended to break the Park into smaller compartments and reduce the widespread damage to re-growth. I was not happy with the elephant population reduction decision. I thought, for it to be effective, we should remove in the order of 75% of the population and keep it at a low level for some time thereafter. However, this seemed to be a simplistic solution and I also believed we could not justify such radical intervention without answering questions about all the processes involved. We went ahead, though, and removed the 400 elephants in 1972/73. The first fire we had during the year of the cull was started by local tribesmen collecting meat; when my fire protection plot of some six years’ standing was accidentally burnt, all the three-metre tall boehmii saplings were killed! The elephant damage went on and when Chizarira was administered from year end ’76 by the bachelor gang (single rangers) from the fort, Charlie Mackie told me that my five-and-a-half year prediction was pretty spot on, and that Siamagogas Ridge had been transformed from a closed canopy woodland to a grassland with woody shrubs and boehmii saplings where fire did not penetrate.

Chizarira Black Rhino Research – Peter Thomson With most of Chizarira being covered by relatively open woodland, it did not conform to the traditional idea of ideal black rhino habitat, and yet there were plenty. My conservative estimate was at least 150 and they were to be found throughout the Park. In 1974/75 I was given permission to carry out a research project on black rhinos and their habitat in Chizarira National Park; the project would involve radio tracking of movements and correlation with choice and use of habitat, activity patterns, feeding and social interactions. With his characteristic enthusiasm, Dr John Hanks, then Chairman of the Wildlife Society in Rhodesia, accessed funds to cover costs of radio transmitters and, with help from Jeremy Anderson, receivers were borrowed from the Natal Parks Board. After discussion with Dave Cumming then officer in charge of the Hostes Nicholle Research Institute at the Sengwa Gorge - concerning the fitting of radio collars to warthogs and the examination of the head/ neck structure of rhinos, it was decided to follow the collar route rather than implanting transmitters into the posterior horn. Rowan Martin, who’d designed and built the transmitters used on elephants at Sengwa, applied his electronic wizardry to the design of transmitters, and I became an apprentice solderer/fitter and turner. ‘Mark I’ collars consisted of a glass fibre module to hold the transmitter and batteries; this was affixed to two lengths of heavy duty welding cable that would double as a collar and powerful dipole aerial. Ten collars were built. I came very close to committing suicide when the first rhino I darted on foot drowned in the Mucheni River before the backup tracking team could find it! Of interest was that the rhino was an old bull that had been in the wars during the course of his life; a .303 or Martini-Henry bullet was found in his liver, fully encapsulated in scar tissue; he also had an old snare wound on a front leg. Not willing to risk losing any other animals, no further darting was done until a helicopter was made available, some months later. Due to limited funds, only five hours of actual flying time was available. Into this we had to squeeze time in the air to locate rhinos, dart and follow up; a tight schedule for what we had planned! Game scouts were sent out

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on bicycles early in the morning to scout for rhinos and report back to headquarters (no hand-held radios were available then); this helped a bit in reducing the need for unproductive flying time. In the end only five rhinos were darted and fitted with collars. As it turned out, this probably wasn’t a bad thing as the welding cable was not up to scratch and broke along soldered lines; the collars also were not adjustable and one was shed very quickly! The ‘Mark II’ collar was built using more traditional machine belting, which enabled collars to be individually sized on site. The drawback to using belting was that a small spiral aerial had to be contained within the glass fibre module, reducing the transmitting range. By mid-1976 additional funding had been organised by John Hanks; this gave us not only more helicopter time, but also enabled us to bring in Kerry Fynn and the Wankie Super Cub to locate rhino prior to the actual helicopter take-off. I did the darting and Bob Thomson led the ground team. We were now far more organised, and in August eight rhinos were collared in the Manzituba/Headquarters area. Radio tracking was done from receiving antennae located on top of two high hills and a fire tower in the study area, the idea being that, on the hour, every hour, directional fixes would be taken for each rhino and their location would be plotted by triangulation. Accuracy of the remote location estimate was checked by use of a hand-held receiving antenna to locate rhinos on the ground as and when possible. Unfortunately the lack of radio communications meant that we had to travel to each mast to get bearings, do the triangulation, then go and look for the animal, complicating procedure no end! Teething problems associated with signal strength and broken topography were being sorted out reasonably well… until I was slapped with a police reserve call-up and deferment refusal, and had to disappear for a few weeks. Work continued however; when I returned, movement pictures started to develop for some of the rhinos in the core of the study area, but gaps and anomalous readings appeared for animals on the periphery. Plans were made to rectify and verify this by more groundwork rather than relying on remote signal reception. The rest is history. Chizarira was attacked in December of that year, all equipment and

records were destroyed and the project was abandoned. Probably the biggest pity is that there was no follow-up on the collared rhinos, so the success of the experimental technique of collaring rhinos and the impact on the animals remains unknown. As noted elsewhere, the custodians of research data were the research officers themselves. Before the advent of personal computers, all records—original and processed data, findings and write-ups—were written by hand for typing, and thereafter filed and kept on site, as were specimens and area specific collections. In comparison to today’s technology it was very cumbersome, but at that time there was no alternative system available.

Top: Wankie — Drew Conybeare collecting measurements from a darted animal Drew Conybeare Left: Drew Conybeare and Dave Peddie Dave Peddie Right: Russell Taylor (Matusadona) in the field Russell Taylor

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Bottom: Ecologists planning the 1980 Mana elephant count Tony Ferrar

Two bull elephants exiting the lake on the approach of an Institute vessel, Nyaodza estuary. D Kenmuir

Fisheries Research Officer, George Begg. Jean Junor

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populated by local communities that had had little contact with the modern world and by a full complement of Africa’s big game animals, offering unprecedented interest, excitement, and often danger. Elephants, baboons and leopards in particular – were frequent and troublesome visitors to staff quarters in the village and, in the Lake itself, hippos and crocodiles frequented every little creek or bay, adding danger to all waterborne activities. Later on, the work environment became even more hazardous due to the bush war that raged for much of the seventies. The Lake was used as a frequent crossing-place for armed freedom fighters on their way between Zambia and Rhodesia, and Kariba town was mortared and rocketed from Zambia on at least two occasions, with bomb shelters being hastily erected by the respective authorities. While, from the point of view of the scientific opportunities offered, these field researchers were enormously privileged in their location, at the same time they faced extraordinary dangers no less frequently than their wildlife colleagues in the terrestrial arena. This, then, is the story that emerged. The Early Years The initial staff team consisted of Ian van der Lingen (O/C), economist John (JG) Osterberg (who devised the system for monitoring fish catches from the villages), limnologist George Begg, biologists Bryan Donnelly and Mike Coke (who shortly returned to Natal) and technician Bob Cameron. The situation for most of these scientists, and those following, was similar to that described by George Begg, who says he joined the LKFRI in November 1966, “ ... as a greenhorn fresh out of university, and was taken aback to find that I was expected to perform the role of ‘limnologist’. I had no idea what a limnologist was, but soon discovered that it meant trying to follow the example set by Dr Andre Coche who had fulfilled this function for the FAO.” George had preceded his new boss, Ian van der Lingen, and has an amusing tale to tell of the latter’s first sighting of him. I was told by JG, who was sitting in Ian’s office when I happened to walk past, that he stared with astonishment at the apparition he’d just seen and asked incredulously “Who the hell was that?” – to which JG casually replied “Oh – that’s our limnologist!” You see, in those days there were no hard and fast rules about NP&WLM uniforms at the LKFRI, so I’d taken to wandering around in a swimming costume wearing a black cowboy hat! John Osterberg would certainly have enjoyed the incident described by George above, as George describes him as “One of the most astute, fun-loving characters of the LKFRI …” Similarly Mike Coke tells us, “He was a hilarious character, with some splendid offbeat ways of saying things just for fun.” In 1968 came another development when the

Fisheries Research Officer Dale Kenmuir. D Kenmuir

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research division of the Department was divided into two branches – one dealing with aquatic matters and the other with terrestrial. One of the first on the new scene was Dale Kenmuir, who hitchhiked up from his parents’ place in Howick, Natal, to seek a job in Rhodesia. After meeting Dr Reay Smithers at the museum and then Roelf Attwell at National Parks headquarters - neither of whom had vacancies at the time, Mr Attwell sent him up to Kariba on the Viscount. Here Ian interviewed him, subsequently offered him a post, and the biologist started work at Kariba in March 1969. At this point the team was somewhat reduced, as JG had left, Bryan Donnelly had taken a year’s study leave to do an honours degree at Rhodes, and as mentioned Mike Coke had returned to Natal. Dale Kenmuir was an athletically-built young fellow, a shade under six foot, with blue-grey eyes, light brown curly hair, and a quiet reserve that tended to mask a mischievous nature and shrewd sense of humour. He says one of his more memorable school-day episodes was being expelled from the hostel for bunking out, ironically enough after being awarded school honours and having a celebratory beer with pals at the local Woodpecker Inn. “It meant I became a day-boy again, my parents having left to go down south, as for the remainder of the year I lodged with my best friend at his parents’ home in Kabalonga, near our school. It was the best punishment I could have had!” He had a hands-on approach to his work - methodical and thorough, backed up by a determination to complete whatever it was he began. “Quiet, but resolute,” Ian once described him in an assessment report. Prior to his arrival he’d worked briefly alongside Mike Coke as a research assistant for Bob Crass at the Natal Parks Board, little realising that Mike had recently worked on the very lake where he himself would shortly find a job. The Lake was not new to Dale, nor its attractions. As a schoolboy in Lusaka during Northern Rhodesian days he had once partaken of its pleasures with friends of his parents at Siavonga – spending a day water-skiing, tiger fishing and climbing the drowned trees in the rising waters. Consequently, he applied to the Game Department for a holiday job assisting NR’s equivalent of Operation Noah, but as the work was considered too dangerous to risk the well being of a minor, his request was turned down. Then in 1968, shortly after graduating from Natal University, he and a varsity friend, Nick Hurry, hitchhiked to Kariba from Salisbury, scrounged a ride on an Irvin & Johnson boat to Sanyati West, and then walked along the shoreline from one end of Matusadona to the other (astonishing Warden Rob Francis and wife Paddy when they pitched up unannounced at their camp on the Bumi River!). “That experience well and truly hooked me on the Lake and the Zambezi Valley,” he recalls. “That ... and the secretary at LKFRI, Fern Ellis, were definitely the draw-cards!” Dale describes his first meeting with George Begg shortly after his arrival: Next morning I was in Mr van der Lingen’s office being briefed on my research projects when there was a noise in the corridor outside. “Good heavens! What on earth is going on?” he said somewhat irritably. He rose from his chair and peered out of the door. “Aha!” He returned to his desk, picked up the telephone and spoke briefly to the receptionist. A few minutes later the doorway darkened and a piratical figure with a few days’ dark growth on his chin stalked in without knocking. He removed a scruffy black buccaneer-type hat from his head, although the rest of his attire was uniform. “Morning Mr van der Lingen”, he said in a tone that really meant, ‘What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?’ His manner was curt, almost rude, and I looked at him in some amazement. My new boss may have been slight, and had the appearance of a harmless old-fashioned schoolteacher, but possessed an indefinable air that

Map of Kariba Township. Supplied by G Begg

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elicited respect and formality from those he dealt with. Quite clearly, the ‘indefinable air’ had not affected this fellow. But Mr van der Lingen remained unruffled by the visitor’s manner. “Ah! Good morning, George,” he said formally and correctly. “Thank you for coming in. I’d like you to meet our new research officer, Dale Kenmuir. Dale, this is George Begg.” George Begg whirled around and for a second or two I was subjected to a fierce stare from piercing blue eyes beneath a rebellious shock of black hair. If looks could transfix, I was being transfixed, while the details of my appearance were rapidly and thoroughly scrutinised. In turn I noted a lean and wiry figure, slightly taller and older than me, good-looking in a hawkish way. There was an intense and positive aura about him. He stepped forward and shook my hand in a strong grip, added a businesslike “How do you do?” and with that formality over, turned back to Ian van der Lingen. Obviously with this character there was no time-wasting on conventional pleasantries. A few months after Dale Kenmuir’s arrival Ian van der Lingen departed to Salisbury to become Chief Research Officer (Fisheries), or CRO(F) for short. His more senior colleague at H/O, although of equivalent rank, was the abovementioned Roelf Attwell, Chief Research Officer (Wildlife), and Ian comments wryly that the two acronyms, CROF and CROW, sounded like a comedy-turn! “Roelf was a great colleague and I will always remember and value our relationship …” he writes. He similarly pays tribute to regional wardens, and all field and head office support staff. Although Ian was a slight, bespectacled man, balding, and in appearance perhaps more likely to be found in a banking or lecturing environment than in the rough-and-tumble of the research field, he was well liked and respected by his staff, and guided the aquatic branch through some very difficult times. His place at Kariba was taken by Frank Junor from the Kyle station, who arrived in May 1969. A fine looking man with sandy hair, greyish eyes, and of slender build, Frank had a relaxed and unassuming manner that tended to put people at ease. Dale recalls his first meeting with the new O/C when the latter was ushered into his office by Ian, who was a stickler for formality and ceremony: After an introduction and a few minutes of stilted chat the two of them then started to leave, but not before Frank turned and gave me a warm smile and a wink, as if to send a message that his coming tenure of office would be a friendly and informal one. I appreciated the gesture. The Institute staff lived in houses on Kariba Heights, where the small village boasted two banks, a post office, an hotel (with swimming pool), a Catholic church, a greengrocers and butchery, a supermarket and bakery, a hardware store, clothes boutique, later on a hairstylist,

khaki shirt! Not long after I had to fill the other pocket. With Kariba airport in sight I willed myself somehow to discontinue puking. George duly exited the plane when they landed, his shirt front now embarrassingly marked by large, wet patches, and vowed never again to give away his sick bag. More likely he should have vowed never again to fly with Ting-a-ling and his ‘confounded’ pipe! ••• Thus then, something about the history of the Institute prior to the 1970s, but what about the work involved? There were many aspects of the Lake that needed investigating from the earliest years, and here George provides some idea of the extent of the canvas involved: We needed to understand how run-off from the 664 000 square kilometre catchment of the Zambezi River above the dam influenced the Lake; how the geology and valley soils affected the lake bottom deposits; how Lake levels responded to the prevailing wind and rainfall conditions; what effects inundation of the terrestrial vegetation would have; what vegetation was going to develop on the Lake margins and how the explosive growth of plants like Salvinia [Kariba weed] was to be controlled; how the fish fauna of the Middle Zambezi, once accustomed to a shallow flowing environment, was going to respond to the deep, pelagic conditions imposed; what invertebrate fauna would develop on the floor of the Lake; what the ecosystem responses would be to the changed water chemistry, thermal properties and flow regime of the Middle Zambezi; what influence the secondary rivers such as the Sanyati would have; how productive the bush-cleared fishing grounds would be in comparison to the un-cleared areas … And so on. You name it – we needed to know about it. Given the vastness of the Lake, some 280km long, 40km wide at its widest point, and covering over 5 000 sq km, and given the relatively small nature of the research team, any supervising officer or officers had to be pretty circumspect in looking at such a list and deciding what needed to be studied. In short, prioritising was vitally important, as was practicability. The Institute was of course a fisheries research one, given that a commercial gill-net fishery, mainly for the Tonga people, operated along the lakeshore, and given that angling (and later on spear-fishing) was an important aspect of the tourism industry developing on the Lake. Clearly then emphasis would mostly be on investigating the fish

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and of course the all-important Kariba Country Club with attached open-air cinema. Nor should one omit the popular Power Corporation swimming pool; while not far off, on another hill, the district hospital and a multi-denominational church. In short, Kariba village met most basic needs - a small oasis of civilization amidst a vast wilderness. By the time of his departure from LKFRI, Ian had made his mark at Kariba – apparently as a great navigator! George says his boss used to accompany him on the Lake - “Where, fancying himself as an ancient mariner, Ian liked to travel from point A to B on a compass bearing instead of line of sight. As a consequence, he’d scribble all over my map with lines as he ‘plotted’ our course …” Ever a man for proper form, Ian would frown at such simple pleasures as sunbathing while on the move, or ‘dinghy tows’ behind the boat, and he also insisted that they anchor offshore at night, rather than put ashore in some sheltered nook. At the time, he was an inveterate pipe smoker, and George says Ian would “…smoke his confounded pipe while watching me doing dissolved oxygen titrations in the galley! While out on the open Lake, the combination of the pitching of the boat, the stench of the crew’s fish cooking in the galley and the smell of his tobacco used to make me turn ‘green’ about the gills.” George’s best tale about ‘Ting-a-Ling’, or ‘Tingo’, as his staff fondly nicknamed him, also involved pipe-smoking and various shades of green. The day had arrived – in June 1967 – when he and Ian set off in a light aircraft with Dave Mitchell of the university in Salisbury to map the distribution and extent of Kariba weed infestation. George says he handled the flight very well until Dave started puking and quickly filled his brown paper bag, at which point George very kindly offered him his own bag. He goes on: Psychologically, it was a poor move because by now the general atmosphere in the cabin of the plane smelt heavily of vomit. To try and suppress the smell ‘Ting-a-Ling’ then fired up his pipe. This, together with the knowledge that I no longer had a bag, was my undoing. With a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead and my stomach starting to heave, I knew I was about to disgrace myself. I tried to keep my retch down by letting it flow into my cheeks and then swallowing it, but it eventually started coming out of my nose! Thereafter I had no alternative other than to use one of the breast pockets of my National Parks

Fisheries Research Officer Bryan Donnelly. K Thomas

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fauna, along with environmental aspects – the plant-life, for example – associated with the piscine community. But equally it was necessary to study the physical and chemical nature of the environment they lived in, as this would help understand the nature and habits of such communities and would allow for better management practices. Thus profiling oxygen, temperature, water visibility, lake level characteristics and so on were important requirements, as was looking at the source and supply of nutrients – nitrogen, for example. Given all this, we should not be surprised to learn that early researchers like Derek Harding and Andre Coche investigated the physico/chemical aspects of the new lake. After 1965, when the Institute was abandoned by FAO, the work then fell to Rhodesian biologists, and here George Begg came to the fore. On the fish side of things it was important for those guiding the research program to identify which components of the fish community were most deserving of research. An example of an early study made on the fish population - one that would be useful for advisory purpose re the commercial fishery, was that of Mike Coke, who in 1968 published a paper on the depth distribution of fish on a bush-cleared area of the lake. Mike’s catches in his gill-nets were not always of fish – on one occasion they pulled up a drowned crocodile, and another time a drowned python! High winds once blew their nets out into deep water, necessitating a good deal of diving to find the fleet - early indications of the threats to research the Lake could throw up. Importantly, however, the finding was that various bream species (tilapia) would be the major part of the gill-net catches of the fishermen, and consequently Bryan Donnelly was given the task of researching certain aspects of the tilapia community. Bryan was a serious, rather bristly character with pale blue eyes and a wispy, gingery beard that he loved to fondle when in characteristic argumentative mood. He was a thorough and conscientious researcher and wasted no time looking at how fish populations had changed between 1960 and 1968, soon bringing out a preliminary report on the cichlid (bream) community, with a follow-up one dealing with the tigerfish and chessa/nkupe families. Another aspect researched was a survey of the nursery areas of tilapia. Then there were those species that were declining in the Lake, like the two carp-related Labeo species (the Hunyani salmon and Purple mudsucker, as they were then called) and these were to be researched by Dale Kenmuir. He investigated a wide range of the biology and status of the two species, in which he was briefly assisted by temporary student worker, Roy Burne, who produced an internal report on the diets of the two species, as well as that of the Kariba tilapia, Sarotherodon mortimeri. (Now critically endangered as a result of the accidental/ irresponsible introduction of the Nile tilapia to the lake). As mentioned, angling species were also a consideration, particularly if they contributed significantly to the tourist industry, and R/O Kenmuir was additionally given the task to research the tigerfish, a species that was also a component of commercial catches. In no time

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the press became aware of this research, and as early as September 1969 the Rhodesia Herald carried a picture of the biologist peering down a microscope and another of him at a fish tank, alongside a bold heading declaring RESEARCH ON TIGER FISH COULD HELP KARIBA ANGLERS. Here too his study was pretty exhaustive, ultimately leading to a bound 99-page report and several published papers. Fortunately, having begun its life as an FAO project, the Institute was well equipped and well serviced by both an administrative and technical support staff. Each biologist had a spacious office-cum-laboratory, there was a well equipped dark-room for processing films, a lab with chemicals, glassware, and analytical equipment, a well-stocked library, storerooms, a large workshop, net-sheds with a variety of nets and sampling equipment, Above: A typical tilapia catch. and fish holding tanks and aquaria. With D Kenmuir all this came two steel-hulled, diesel-powered Right: research vessels – MV Sampa and MV Sikwazi A large tigerfish, held by – with another smaller diesel vessel (mainly Stretch Franklin – a spear used for laying experimental nets), and several fisherman and founder member of the Army serviceable aluminium dinghies powered Tracker Wing. by outboard motors. Although a lakeshore D Kenmuir site would have been more practical and convenient, the Institute was nevertheless pleasantly sited, with a grand view over the northern shoreline of the Sanyati Basin. Importantly, the Lake View Inn was just below, and the occasional after-hours foray was made to this attractively sited tourist hotel when occasion demanded it! An initiative from George Begg aided the research effort when, in early 1969, he persuaded Frank Junor that, since the Sanyati River played an important role in the ecology of the Lake, a field station should be erected close to the Gorge along the Sanyati West coastline. By October 1969 his wish was realised. Senior Technician Bob Cameron had erected a metal rondavel on a wooden platform supported by scaffolding, in a sheltered little bay not far from the Gorge mouth. “We named the field station Ice Station Sanyati after Alistair MacLean’s book Ice Station Zebra,” George writes, and says that for the next three years the station “served as my home from home.” As will be realised, a vital cog in the LKFRI machine was Glaswegian Bob, in charge of the boats, vehicles, and workshop. Although he and soft-spoken Mandy were something of a reclusive couple socially, Bob was a popular figure at the Institute - socks about his ankles, wavy salt-andpepper hair awry, frequently grumbling, but usually with a barbed humorous observation about something or someone. Ever busy and willing to help with whatever was needed, his workshop was usually populated by a variety of gadgets and contraptions in the making for R/Os. Or by fish tanks that needed fixing, outboard motors needing servicing, engine parts being inspected, and so on. He had a small but well-trained crew, and together they were an indispensable element of the Institute. Amiable he may have been, but woe betide anyone taking liberties, or transgressing in any other way in Bob’s domain. As George puts it: “We used to live in fear and dread of incurring his wrath each time another propeller was bent or instrument dropped overboard … but thanks to his ingenuity and skills, old Bob got us out of many a tight corner.”

Indeed, Bob’s Scottish ingenuity and skills were such that it was he who later designed a new research vessel for the Institute, the MV Pelican, which was launched amid a good deal of fanfare (including a visit by the PM) in the mid-seventies. Dr Graham Child, Director National Parks and Wild Life Management recalls: Bob Cameron, the Technician at the Lake Kariba Research Institute, had recently designed the Institute’s research vessel that was proving to be the most lakeworthy and fuel-efficient vessel of any size on Lake Kariba. We had tired of hiring inefficient, costly CMED vessels to service our stations along the lakeshore and to administer the inshore fishing industry and wished to build our own vessel for the purpose, but were not allowed to do so in terms of Treasury policy for the hire of all plant and equipment which all had to come from CMED. Bob scaled down and simplified his plans of the Pelican for this purpose. But we still had to obtain the money to build it from Treasury, who were unlikely to countenance a straightforward bid for funds to build a vessel that would meet our requirements. We decided to try it on with Treasury and within the Institute’s bids for technical equipment we included an item for about $30 000 for a ‘Cameron Load Carrier’. Pat Gill - by then our chief finance officer - being the conscientious person she is, liked to know everything about the estimates she prepared for Treasury and could not contain her curiosity. She enquired from all and sundry what this Cameron Load Carrier thing was, but all professed ignorance except one bold fellow. In his best imitation of a Scottish accent he said “Oh Pat, don’t you know? It’s a wee Scotsman with a pack on his back” and with that the bid went ahead. Our Ministry officials and the Treasury personnel who eventually vetted and approved our estimates were too embarrassed to demonstrate their ignorance by enquiring what this Cameron Load Carrier thing was and we received the money for a sensible capital outlay that saved Treasury a lot of money. There were other vital elements at the Institute; George pays deserved tribute to them: No mention of the staff at the LKFRI would be complete without recollection of the admin and secretarial staff that quietly (and sometimes not so quietly)

Above: ‘Ice Station Sanyati’ being erected by Bob Cameron and crew. G Begg Right: The LKFRI workshop, leading through to Bob’s office. G Begg

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did as much as anyone else to keep the show on the road. The likes of Peter Mountford, Joan Guthrie, Terry Smythe, Fern Ellis, Jean de Waal and Jean Willard all come to mind. Without them working behind the scenes our work could never have been done. George would not of course have known of other stalwarts who arrived after he left in the mid- ‘70s, like admin officer Maureen Harley, Carol du Plooy the receptionist/secretary, admin assistants Marion Stevens, Leslie Hall and Margie, and the Aussie receptionist and secretary Keren Shore. In fact the very mixed nature of the Institute was one of the factors that added to its appeal. “An all-male affair would have made life pretty dull,” Dale Kenmuir opines, when thinking back. “After all, I even once got a date with Carol!” Doubtless the fact he was a bachelor for seven

African staff at work – preparing a gill-net for setting. D Kenmuir

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of those years influenced such an opinion! Equally, the African staff were a vital part of the Institute – comprising enumerators (collecting catch data from fishing villages), laboratory assistants, coxswains, net-setters/menders, the workshop staff as mentioned, and two office orderlies (making tea being an essential part of their duties!) The capable Geoffrey Marowa handled the enumerator/catch statistics side of things, while the equally competent Sergeant Vanencio Ndaza handled just about everything to do with needs of the researchers (organising nets, taking gear down to the boats, supervising the setting and lifting of gill-nets, assisting with processing of catches, etc). Others involved – unfortunately surnames are not remembered in some cases – were the lab assistants Titus Matare and Christopher, the coxswains Afiki and Makura (and later on Adak), and the enumerators Luke, Maxwell, Daniel, Simon, Roderick, Langton, Crispin, and Evans (some of whom became lab assistants). Then of course there were the technicians who appeared periodically during the seventies and in various ways added their own dash of colour to the Institute canvas. They either worked with Bob, or assisted the research officers – guys like Russell Williams, Rob Templeton, Jon Silcock, Paul Tasker and later on Jed Tilley. Russell, a lean, energetic fellow hailing originally from Northern Rhodesia but posted down from Inyanga, could turn his hand exceedingly well to most things, but was also an accomplished artist - a skill soon put to good use by Dale Kenmuir. “The guy’s focus on his work was incredible,” Dale recalls. “A real pleasure to work with.” Like the latter, Russell also took enthusiastically to free-diving and spear-fishing and was soon adept. Templeton was a tall, good-looking young fellow who, with his moustache and dark brown eyes, somewhat resembled the actor Burt Reynolds. Initially he worked with Bob, and thereafter assisted whichever R/O needed a helping hand. Being an accomplished water polo player in his day he was a competent swimmer and always happy to help in any underwater ventures in the field. Jon Silcock was a musically gifted, bespectacled dropout (his father a respected headmaster) with a shock of light-brown curly hair, lots of charm, and an irrepressible sense of humour. He livened up the Institute appreciably, not least by regularly goading Dale’s bull terrier, Jock, into chasing him furiously up and down the long verandah, all the while yelping hysterically (Jock, that is!). Then there was young Paul Tasker, keen and pleasant-mannered, his father bandmaster in the BSAP, who took over from Silcock when the latter left to pursue his drifter lifestyle. Jed Tilley, an ex SAS trooper, is well remembered for his quick response when Keren Shore hinted that she rather fancied him, and for once she was left totally speechless when he retorted (in front of all the ladies) “Then drop your draws, my body’s yours!”

Last but by no means least there was the all-important OIC in charge of this lot, Frank Junor, who not only acted in concert with the CRO(F) in Salisbury, but was also accountable to a Management Committee that, along with the CRO(F), visited the Institute once a year to consider administrative matters, research work in progress, the constraints and problems, future requirements, and so on. For much of the time Archie Fraser, a senior official in the department’s ministry, was chairman of the committee, and being a keen fisherman and general outdoor lover, he seemed to relish the task. In fact George has a delightful tale to tell, in which Frank was the main player and Archie Fraser a spectator – no doubt a very amused one! “… We were confined to a small dinghy with three other people aboard (Archie Fraser included) when Frank suddenly plonked himself down on the back seat of the dinghy to put on a new trace, and accidentally sat on the outboard’s fuel line. The latter had a leak in the bulbous section that is used to prime the motor and as a result he got an enema of outboard fuel squirted directly up his backside. From the anguished look on his face I thought he was about to take off… He leapt to his feet, dropped his rod into the bottom of the boat, whipped his pants off and in a frantic endeavour to super-cool and rinse his orifice, hung his bum over the edge of the transom. It was one of those times that, to have had a camera, would have paid handsomely. Research carried out by the LKFRI was of course complemented by work emanating from the university’s research station set up on the lakeshore at Kariba, with a field station established further down the Lake at Sinamwenda. Some work also continued from Sinazongwe on the Zambian side, where a laboratory and field station were established by the Central Fisheries Research Organisation. Unfortunately all these facilities were forced to suspend activities during the early to mid-seventies because of the escalating bush war, but a tenuous Kariba link remained on the Zambian side, in that an officer responsible for Kariba worked from an office at Chilanga, not far from Lusaka. ••• Whatever the nature of the research, these vanguard biologists were lucky in one particular way, as Kariba in those early years had not been hit by the houseboat (and motorboat) armada that was to become a feature of the Lake in the later seventies and eighties, when these large tourist-infested vessels would invade almost every attractive nook and cranny, divesting the Lake of much of its earlier solitude and wildness. In those lucky days these research guys could go off on their official cruises and hardly see Fisheries Technical Officer another soul or boat for several days, revelling in the wildness of it all. Little wonder that Dale Rob Templeton at the tiller of one of the LKFRI Kenmuir, when he published his book about the natural history and ecology of the Lake for dinghies. the layman, entitled it A Wilderness called Kariba. In fact this particular biologist had nursed R Templeton an ambition to become involved in game research but was so captivated by Kariba, offering as it did the best of both worlds - village life with its variety of amenities, facilities and attractions, surrounded by a wonderful wilderness - that he chose to remain in the aquatic branch at Kariba where he could also immerse himself in the terrestrial as well as the aquatic experience. Another pleasing feature of working at the LKFRI was that, provided they signed an indemnity form and had permission from the O/C, family members, in-laws, siblings, friends, Top: Fisheries Technical Officer Russell Williams relaxing after a hard day’s work. D Kenmuir

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Left: An armada of boats ... With sanctions and limited holiday allowances, Rhodesians increasingly turned to Kariba for recreation. D Kenmuir Right: The solitude of the earlier years! Kariba at sunset, with a tree orchid evident in a dead Mopani. D Kenmuir Collection

them, and woe betide him if he deviated from this onerous task! In those days equipment was not as sophisticated and user friendly as it is today, and the task of putting down and hauling up things like bathythermographs, secche discs, water-sampling bottles etc. could be quite tedious. Surrounded as he was by winches and steel cables while in his limnological role, George alleviated such moments by occasionally putting them to another use when busy in some river estuary or other. He’d fasten a large hook onto the end of a cable, attach a cake of blue-mottled soap to this, and lower the whole lot overboard. Some time during the night a fearful noise would have everyone leaping to their feet as the steel cable raced violently to and fro along the edge of the metallic deck, while down below an enormous vundu would be battling to shed the hook caught up in its bony jaws. George, one might say, had invented a new form of angling, soap-and-cable fishing! Given the wild nature of the Lake and surrounding countryside, and of the habitats the fish occupied, research investigations often posed danger to the biologists involved … as George early on discovered. The habit of certain species of fish swimming upstream to spawn rendered them vulnerable to poaching - something George found happening in the Sanyati Gorge shortly after arriving at Kariba. He realised the impact this would have on the Lake’s commercial gill-net fishery, as constant removal of large numbers of breeding fish would severely reduce recruitment of juveniles, resulting in an almost certain decline in Lake stocks. What to do? George had no doubts, even if what he attempted was more the brief of law enforcement individuals than that of a research branch, and was potentially very dangerous. He writes: I became involved in an all-out war against fish poachers that went on for several years. Initially,

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girlfriends and so on, could accompany their scientist son, son-in-law, brother, friend, boyfriend or whatever he was on these research cruises. It was a marvellous spin-off – a gratis wilderness experience for which many would normally pay through their noses. Of course, with or without accompaniments, the biologist’s cook invariably went on tour as well, and day’s end would likely see the biologist relaxing in a camp chair on deck, cold beer in hand, watching the sun set in glorious splendour, while the cook prepared dinner at the small galley in the boat’s cabin. Such trips, for the domestic, were not only a welcome break from the tedium of household life back on shore, but if the trip involved experimental netting he, like the rest of the crew, would end up with a pile of fish to take home. Then there was the ego factor. Such trips tended to boost status and self-importance; they were now not just another Kariba village cook, but a type of batman to the vessel’s O/C. Dale’s cook was Jack, and one day, when the research officer’s mother had the temerity to ask him if he’d packed some particular item for the impending Lake tour, Jack rose to his full height, all five foot seven inches of it, gave her a withering look and replied indignantly, “Me got evely ting.” Of course the cooks were also expected to pander to their boss’s particular tastes. George’s cook was Pepsi, and his particular task was to make chips as thin as matchsticks, exactly as George liked

the poachers that operated just above Sandy Cove used to abandon their camps the moment they saw me approaching, thus allowing me the opportunity to cut their nets free, sink their primitive boats, collapse their drying racks and set fire to their shacks. However, on one occasion they retaliated, came dashing down the sides of the Gorge and chased me downstream – this necessitated me having to fire a few shots at them to dissuade them from pressing home their attack. Had they caught the biologist, doubtless not in uniform but in customary swimming costume and black cowboy hat, they may well have done him in and cast his body to the crocodiles. Operations continued against fish-poachers, and, in addition to large raids, which resulted in 74 arrests, a further 12 Africans were convicted. Both large raids were on the Sanyati. Some 7 500 yards of net and approximately 800lbs of dried fish were confiscated. - Excerpt from NP&WLM Annual Report, 1967. George’s next step in his campaign was a flight up the Gorge with the Police Air Wing to ascertain poacher numbers and camps, and then in March 1968 a cross-country trip by Land Rover, hoping to make contact with poachers by posing as a fish-buying farmer from the tobaccofarming area of Tengwe, south-east of Kariba (some farmers buying fish to use as staff rations). It was on this trip that the damage being inflicted became painfully apparent to the biologist. Having made his tortuous way down a long and winding path, he finally made contact with a poacher gang at the confluence of the Kanyati and Sanyati rivers, and discovered that the number of ripe-running (egg bearing) fish being caught was horrifying. “Three miserable fragments of torn gill-net were yielding well over 100 adult mud-suckers a day!” he records. This adventurous researcher tended to get himself caught up in other matters, one of these involving a well-known departmental figure – a living legend in fact. The drama began in September 1968 when a spear-fisherman – George Pearson, of the Power Corporation - was snorkelling in the shallows of the Sampa Karuma islands and got the fright of his life when a leopard pounced on him. The animal must have been eking out a living on these islands since the Lake filled, feeding on whatever it could get hold of – perhaps dassies, mice, birds, fish or whatever – and saw in the spearo something really substantial for a change. Inevitably the press got hold of the story, made a meal of it so to speak, and no less a personage than Rupert Fothergill of Operation Noah fame was called in to capture the animal and relocate it before it attacked someone else. The Institute was contacted and R/O Begg was deputed to assist Rupert by making Sampa available, along with anything else he required. In October 1968 Rupert arrived with a trap and bait – a goat – to be placed in a predator-proof cubicle at the back of the trap, in which contraption he’d caught dozens of leopards and lions… and off they set for Sampa Karuma. George takes up the tale: We placed the goat in its cubicle with some water to drink and lucerne to eat, and after giving the animal firm instructions to bleat loudly, left it alone on the island to perform its specialist task. The next day we went back to Sampa Karuma with Rupert, confident as usual, to collect the leopard and could scarcely believe our eyes to find the door closed, the trap empty and the goat as dead as a dodo, partly eaten in its cubicle! Rupert was devastated. He could do nothing more than conclude that somehow the leopard had managed to grab hold of the goat and then escaped by lifting the door with its paw, using the small gap at the bottom that was created to prevent the door injuring the trapped animal’s tail when it slammed shut. The trap was re-set, and this time Rupert made sure there was no gap at the bottom of the door. The next day, to further astonishment, we found the door closed, the trap empty, and more of the goat chewed away. Despite weighting the door with a rock, the same scenario awaited us the next day – trap empty, door closed, more of the goat eaten. More weight was added to the trapdoor by way of an old gearbox and bits of scrap metal. Wire mesh was then wrapped round the cage in the unlikely event the animal was squeezing through the bars of the trap. I then bet Rupert (one whole shilling!) that this time we would succeed. And we did! But instead of finding Houdini in the cage, he was found in the goat’s cubicle, finishing off the last remains of the unfortunate animal. Although painfully thin and emaciated, it was still as furious and dangerous as only a trapped leopard can be. That then was the end of Part One of the exercise. Now for the equally surprising Part Two … the trapped leopard was loaded onto one of the Institute’s dinghies and towed behind Sampa to the Matusadona Game Reserve, where it was expected the release would, in comparison, be a doddle. “Not so!” as George puts it. They anchored close inshore and allowed the dinghy to drift up to the beach, the trapdoor having been opened by pulling at a rope. The expectation of course

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R/O Begg was not of course finished with his investigations into poaching in the Sanyati River, along with its many perils. Not long before, having escaped the poachers’ wrath, he was soon to have an adventure that could well have claimed his life and the lives of his African support team. As part of his investigations in and above the Sanyati Gorge he wanted to sample the river below a natural feature called the Gandavaroyi Falls, in which exercise he’d work his way down to the road bridge not far from the top end of the Gorge. The distance involved was some 35km (22 miles) – a not insignificant stretch of water, and one possibly fraught with danger and difficulties. The water tumbled about fifty feet over a sill of rock and here, in olden days, those suspected of witchcraft were hurled to their death. On this occasion – February 1969 - it was George and his team that nearly fell victim to the sinister waterfall ... After a long and tedious trip overland by

Land Rover, taking along nets and an inflatable dinghy, and en route George being given a flight by a medical missionary doctor over the waterfall (his heart sinking at sight of fierce rapids, gullies, dangerous potholes et al) they eventually arrived at the swollen Tengwe River - a tributary of the Sanyati - and therefore, George decided, they might as well launch here and float down to the main river. Not realising he was about to make a dangerous mistake – two in fact - they camped for the night and launched the next morning (after he’d sent Sergeant Ndaza back to the Institute at Kariba with the vehicle - his first mistake!) Blissfully unaware of what lay ahead, we continued downstream in silence, awe and sheer wonderment. Titus was the only one to say anything and his remark, drawn from a history book from his schooldays, ‘Mungo Park – explorer’, neatly summed up the feelings of everyone on board. Soon we were in the Sanyati itself – wide, with numerous channels and reed-covered islands ... Enthralled by their surroundings, they drifted on - the gill-net reel bobbing along behind, George unaware he was now about to discover his second mistake! “All was well until I sensed the current starting to quicken and began to recognise certain features, including the black rocks I’d seen from the air.” Only now did he realise that the Tengwe had entered the Sanyati above the dreaded waterfall, and not below, as he’d thought! By the time the first wisp of spray rising above the falls came into sight we were already in the grip of the current that directed water over the main channel. Shouting above the noise of the rapids, I yelled to the crew ‘We must get out!’ With that, Titus took my command literally, leapt overboard and was immediately swept downstream! Fortunately, with the dinghy moving faster than he was floundering, we actually caught up with him and pulled him aboard. By now we were totally out of control; my knapsack had fallen out (containing all my clothes, bullets and watch); Pepsi’s bag had gone (containing his identity document) and I truly thought our last minutes on earth were approaching. Fortunately for George and his three companions, the dinghy slammed into the riverbank about 50 metres above the waterfall and they were able to leap ashore. After struggling to secure the boat against the pull of the net-reel, which had disappeared over the fall, they finally managed to do so. George says his blood ran cold when they made their way down to the lip of the fall and surveyed their

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was that the leopard would leap out and with one last snarl bound happily off into the bush. Instead – Once the door of the trap was open the leopard got up, wandered up to the head of the dinghy and settled down behind a bale of lucerne in the prow! Rupert and I wandered around in the shallows shouting, throwing sticks, rocks and clods of mud into the dinghy. But there was nothing we could do to entice the leopard to leave. The emaciated leopard was undoubtedly traumatised by its experiences – first having dreaded humans come up close after it was trapped, and then going on a frightening sea voyage, perhaps even becoming sea-sick, and finally once again being in contact with humans. It simply wanted to rest and recover some of its strength before venturing into a new and possibly dangerous world. Any leopard that had exhibited the intelligence of this one was going to do what was best for it and not for anyone else. Thus, after sitting patiently on the deck, drinking tea, and talking about Operation Noah and Rupert’s experiences catching white poachers, the two men finally gave up and headed back to Kariba, leaving dinghy and leopard behind. The next day, when George returned to collect the boat, the leopard had gone. As a final comment, he says he couldn’t help admiring the leopard “for all it taught the famous Rupert Fothergill about game capture.”

would-be grave. Chris, George’s second lab assistant, admitted he’d suffered “an attack of severe trembles”! A close shave indeed, but the exercise was not complete. They now had to get back to the main riverbank, and to do this George came up with a scheme one could either describe as bold, or sheer lunacy. The idea was to allow the unmanned dinghy to float back into the current in the hope it would reach the other side and lodge there. It did exactly that and landed hard up against the rocks, leaving an arc of semi-submerged rope to act as a cross-channel ‘foefie’ or rope slide! Wrapping my hat around the rope to prevent friction burn, I lowered myself into the river and allowed the current to sweep me along the rope into the dinghy. After securing the boat to the rocks properly I told each of my assistants to come across the same way. To their ever-lasting credit, they came across one by one … Thus George managed – in a way he later described as ‘foolhardy’ - to get everyone across the main channel and up out of the river, including the boat and nets. After a cold and miserable night spent on river rocks, bedevilled by mosquitoes “and listening to the sounds of the falls mocking us as the witches of Gandavaroyi continued their ghostly work” he foot-slogged it to the Mission, caught a lift back to Kariba, and in due course returned with the Land Rover to uplift his faithful crew and equipment. Despite such near-disaster George retained his affection for the river. “Of all the river systems that flowed into the Lake I loved the Sanyati more than any other” he writes. “The basin that the township of Kariba overlooks is known as the Sanyati Basin and, on a clear day, the shadow of the Sanyati Gorge, etched into the Matusadona escarpment 30km away, is always evident. It used to beckon me each day.” He goes on: “With the aid of the Sampa and a dinghy I got to know every inch of the Gorge. I explored the tributaries that flowed into the ‘cross-roads’; the waterfalls that fell directly into the Gorge and the boulder-strewn sides of the river itself, where it was not uncommon to see leopards, otters and crocodiles.” Given this fascination, it was hardly surprising that when greenhorn Dale Kenmuir arrived at the Institute George wasted no time taking him to his favourite place at the top end of the Gorge – a delightful spot he’d named Sandy Cove. About this place George waxes lyrical, writing: I spent many a night sleeping on the sand after staring at the moon, listening to the swirling water, the sound of vundu blowing as they rose to the surface and the hooting of owls. At dawn the cries of fish eagles and trumpeter hornbills would echo in the Gorge. Idyllic, one might say, but a bit of exuberant tomfoolery on Dale’s part might well have ended in tragedy. When the two arrived in Sampa, skippered by the experienced Afiki, they found a large plug of Salvinia blocking the top end of the Gorge. Nevertheless Afiki managed to coax the boat through and gently brought the vessel up against the beach of Sandy Cove. Dale knew a little about ‘Kariba weed’ from his schooldays and his Matusadona walk, but had never seen it in such a thick, piled up, and inviting form. The temptation was too much, for as George relates: “I have some pictures of him leaping with gay abandon from the shore onto mats in the Sanyati River, lying spread-eagled on the plants and, after diving beneath them, surfacing like a hippo, his whole head crowned by a thick mass of green weed.” What may have happened, of course, had a large crocodile lurked under the weed-mat is anyone’s guess. Many years later George did admit that he had his camera ready for that particular shot just in case! Crocodiles were an ever-present menace, especially in riverine areas, and Dale Kenmuir was probably fortunate to emerge from his years at LKFRI unscathed. Shortly after arriving at the Institute, he set off with his team of net-setters to the inflowing Nyaodza River to see if the three species he was studying were using this river for spawning purposes. On arriving at the road bridge - more a drift than a bridge - he found the river in full spate and, unable to cross the bridge, he swam to the far side via a swirling pool just below the drift, and then pulled a gill-net across with a rope thrown to him. He returned the same way, and swam across the next day to undo the net and have it pulled back. Four times he swam through the turbulent, silt-laden pool below the bridge, and only later learned from the veteran George what a risk he’d taken. When describing what he’d done, his colleague looked at him aghast. “Are you mad?” George expostulated. “Don’t you know that crocodiles gather in such places, to feed on fish moving upstream? You’re lucky to be alive, man!”

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Clockwise above left to right: Aerial view of the Sanyati Gorge showing the ‘cross-roads’. G Begg A tigerfish leaping in the Sanyati Gorge. D Kenmuir

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Sampa moored at George’s ‘Sandy Cove’. D Kenmuir

Fish moving upstream provided George an opportunity to pioneer yet another form of recreational fishing - this even more spectacular than the soap-and-cable method! When the Sanyati River started flowing at the beginning of summer, large numbers of tigerfish would gather just above Sandy Cove, before moving upstream to spawn. George delighted in motoring upriver in a dinghy - the outboard motor’s noise underwater startling the gathered tigerfish and causing them to leap high in the air. Arch field-sportsman George would be seen standing straddle-legged at the prow – .410 in hand. Bang! Bang! Bang! Although he risked having a tigerfish slam into his head or slap him on the back, he nevertheless could claim to be the only person in the world to have shot several tigerfish in mid-air! In less spectacular vein, Dale Kenmuir was anchored at Sandy Cove one day, still busy on his tigerfish and Labeo projects, and was grinding his way upstream through the December turbulence of the Sanyati River in one of the dinghies. The water all around suddenly erupted with tigerfish leaping high into the air. He whipped out his camera to take several photos of the airborne fish. The one below gives some idea of the height the fish attain in their panic-stricken leaps from the water. Research expeditions sometimes ran into danger - not from poachers or dangerous beasts, but from fellow members of the Department! In June 1969 George was on another of his beloved overland trips - part of a program to look at the distribution of riverine fish in relation to limnological characteristics of the five basins of the Lake. This time he was in the Urungwe district, camped under a grove of trees near the bridge across the Bumi River. He and his team had shed their uniforms to get on with the job of sampling the fish population and ended up with so many fish that they set up a smoking rack and started giving the surplus to passers-by, rather than go to waste. Unbeknown to George, however, some of these recipients had hurried off to report his activities to a fellow known as Mawende, well known in departmental circles and a legendary figure in the field of anti-poaching. “However, of all the poachers that he detested more than anything were European poachers,” George writes. “Not unexpectedly therefore Mawende was spitting fire and blood when he heard there was a ‘m’lungu’ netting and poisoning fish in the Bumi River!” The next thing a Land Rover sped into the camp, screeched to a halt, and from the accompanying cloud of dust a figure emerged and strode determinedly towards George and his crew sitting at their campfire. He introduced himself loudly and belligerently, announced he was from National Parks, and awaited a response from this villainous white man and his poacher gang. George stood up and politely introduced himself as George Begg “from the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Management.” He says Mawende’s jaw dropped, he stared in perplexity, and then noticed various telltale signs lying about that provided veracity of this announcement – hat badges, registration plate, boots, etc. After that “He warmed to the idea of the research we were doing in his area. We spent the next few hours yarning around the fire and he departed a happy man with a dozen smoked fish in his truck.” Who was this Mawende? Members of the department will certainly know that George had encountered none other than the renowned Norman Payne (Snr). George says that when Norman died in 1972 he was cremated and at his request his ashes were to be spread in the Zambezi Escarpment at a point overlooking Mana Pools, “A task Paul Coetsee, the Regional Warden, had undertaken to fulfil.” It seems that a plaque bearing his name was affixed to a rock at the site. Thus the love of these men for the cause and country they served so well. The Early Seventies By 1970 the research component at the Institute comprised Frank Junor, George Begg, Bryan Donnelly (who’d returned at the beginning of that year), and Dale Kenmuir. Ian van der Lingen comments on this period, noting that “In the 1970s there was considerable expansion and very productive research …” The country was of course still handicapped by sanctions and boycotts as a consequence of UDI, but nevertheless there were good international contacts and, although he was not ultimately allowed into the USA, Ian was invited to speak at an international conference on man-made lakes. If these years were productive, a good deal of credit must also go to the new O/C – Frank Junor. George notes

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goals and commitments of ecologists and social developers, which is the backbone of the present CAMPFIRE collaborative group.’ The CAMPFIRE Collaborative Group was chaired by the Department and consisted of members from the NGO community and, importantly, the Centre for Applied Social Sciences (CASS) based at the University of Zimbabwe. CASS, under the leadership of Professor Marshall Murphree, was instrumental in the development and promotion of community-based natural resource management (CBNRM). It was through the efforts of this Collaborative Group that the formation of the CAMPFIRE Association as a representative body of the Appropriate Authorities across the country came into being. This Association became the communal voice of communities in the promotion of CAMPFIRE. Through these – at the time, radical socio-economic policies, the concept that poor rural communities could be uplifted through the devolution of authority to the community to manage the communal resources (wild life) at grassroots took hold. This drew the attention of various NGOs such as the WWF, The Zimbabwe Trust and CASS, together with international donors such as NORAD (The Norwegian Agency for Development Cooperation) and USAID (United States Agency for International Development) to actively promote CBNRM. The rate and growth of CAMPFIRE was nothing short of phenomenal. In a five-year period from 1989 to 1994 the program expanded from two districts with appropriate authority benefiting 16 wards, 7 861 households and 55 000 people, to 12 districts, 70 wards, and 68 798 households, benefiting 480 000 people. Between 1989 and 2001 the CAMPFIRE program generated over US$20-million for the participating communities, 89% of which came from sport hunting. The fact that the Zimbabwe CAMPFIRE principles have been adopted and modified to the specific needs of Botswana, Namibia and Zambia says much for conservation and the far-reaching vision of the Department concerning the need for the devolution of rights to individuals and communities to manage their resources. GREEN SAFARIS Thirty years ago ‘Green Safaris’ was emerging as the buzzword – i.e., pay to squeeze the trigger of a dart gun, then pose for photographs with the tranquillised animal before it is collared or translocated. Dependent on the animal to be darted, the ‘hunting’ experience is much the same as that of a proper safari – there are trackers, a PH (Professional Hunter), a client, plus one extra… the person licenced in the use of dangerous drugs. The thrill of the chase is for the hunter to watch his ‘quarry’ awaken and walk off into the bush to live another day. The idea of ‘darting safaris’ was first explored in Zimbabwe in 1981 as a means to obtain much needed specialised equipment for wild life research, and is understood to have been the brainchild of Rowan Martin, a Senior Ecologist based at Sengwa Research Station west of Gokwe. Although details are sketchy, two different clients were taken out on separate ‘hunts’ by Warden Tony Conway to collar elephant for Rowan’s ongoing research program. For the privilege of accompanying the darting team and observing the whole operation, the clients donated much needed HF radio equipment and other gadgetry towards the monitoring and tracking project. The two ‘safaris’ were efficiently run; realising the potential to generate funds for research from an as yet untapped source, researchers and others looked at taking the idea to the next level and run ‘darting safaris’ in which clients could actively participate. For this, as with any new major venture, Ministerial approval was required. That permission was granted for a trial safari speaks well of the proposals put forward. Details of the arguments are not known, but it is believed they were based on the following reasoning – with ongoing monitoring and translocation programs involving elephant, rhino, buffalo and very possibly lion, selected animals would have to be darted. This being the case, an opportunity presented itself to involve outsiders willing to pay hard cash for the experience of darting an animal. It was an innovative proposal that would have special appeal to a sector of the large American hunting fraternity. Expenses were calculable but with no history of the market value of a darting safari, returns were unknown. To test the waters, the most feasible option therefore lay in auctioning the ‘hunt’. It is pertinent to note that Ingrid Schroeder of SAVE America, who, with Babette Alfairie, championed the cause of the Department in New York and elsewhere in the USA, were involved

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Building the rhino holding boma – to the far right is Dick Pitman familiarising himself with the cine camera. John White

Below: Rowan Martin and Ron van Heerden preparing darts. John White

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in the idea from the beginning; both were marketing wizards and Ingrid had much to do with marketing the safari in the States. To follow this through, a two-week darting safari for the ‘big five’ was auctioned at the SCI (Safari Club International) Reno Convention early in ’82, the successful bidder being Erv Nutter from Dayton Ohio; he brought with him his wife Zoe Dell and friends Jack and Anne Green. Mana Pools, with its wide range of game, including the big five, and on-going monitoring programs, was the area chosen to ‘host’ the Safari. With the Zambezi River and a backdrop of the Zambian escarpment the setting was ideal. First on the ground that year in August were the ‘advance party’ of John and Tara White - Tara i/c cookhouse/catering and camp organisation - plus Richard Simpson and Provincial Warden Ron van Heerden; Jaycelle van Heerden came in with her double bed later, when the camp was set up! The site chosen was the old Mana Tree Lodge, which was secluded, away from tourists and where some infrastructure remained. Others on the team - Clem Coetsee and Rowan Martin, classed by John White as the ‘technocrats’ - would oversee the darting and collaring, Graham Hall with his Super Cub to fly reconnaissance flights and Dick Pitman, the newly appointed Interpretive Officer, was given the responsibility of ‘cameraman.’ Andy Cousins, Warden Mana, together with his rangers and scouts, assisted where necessary; the last of the locals was Ecologist Clive Swanepoel, also new his baptism into the thought-provoking world of research was vastly different to anything envisaged – he’d be collecting scientific data. Ingrid Schroeder, a key player in getting the operation off the ground as

The ‘catering’ team – James, Tara White and Obert. John White

mentioned earlier, came in as a guest, with a few friends. Last, but certainly not least of the team, was the Air Force contingent under Wing Commander Ian Harvey, who ‘Alouetted’ in with his technician and pilots undergoing training. Irrelevant, but of interest, is the fact that Ian, now deceased (09.04.06) holds the world record of having flown 4 000+ hours in the Alouette Series III helicopter. Rowan Martin ‘coerced’ Ian to come aboard, with flying in the Valley being sanctioned for the purposes of pilot training. Their presence added to the occasion and further cemented the relationship between the Department and Air Force. On the logistics side, re-supply was brought in from Karoi some 200 kilometres away; catering, cooking and the regular calls for tea, something Parks chaps never seem to tire of drinking, was ongoing and Tara, ably assisted by Obert and James, fed and ‘watered’ a constant stream of hungry people throughout the day and night. It was thought that two weeks would be adequate to dart the big five, but animals do not always behave

Camp dining boma and kitchen John White

as predicted – Mana abounds with buffalo, but somehow nothing came of stalking the animals seen. Baits were dragged and put out for lion, but they too failed to oblige and feed! With the thought of going after leopard shelved for one reason or another, darting was restricted to elephant and rhino - one of each. The first attempt at darting an elephant didn’t go as planned, but for excitement the story warrants relating. Having sighted a small herd of elephant on the floodplain, Ronnie van Heerden separated himself and Erv from Zoe and the rest of the group and snuck up to a large anthill, pretty close and within easy darting distance of the feeding elephant; undetected, Ron looked for a suitable animal to dart. John White relates the story – “We watched Erv aim, heard the .22 blank cartridge detonate and saw the dart fly. Things exploded after that – an irate cow spun about, screamed in rage

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Top to bottom: Elephant darting –With the elephant oblivious of their presence, Ron van Heerden (partially obscured) checks the dart gun, Erv Nutter looks on while unidentifiable member of the team keeps an eye on everything else. John White The enraged elephant cow, unaware of Erv on the termite mound, focuses her attention on Ron. The aluminium dart protruding from her forehead is clearly visible. John White Ron, reloading his double, runs back towards the downed cow while Erv, not interested in what’s happening behind him, continues to scramble higher. Adding to the tragedy is a small calf, seen standing behind its mother. John White

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and came in a full blooded charge, with her head down and ears out towards Ron and Erv. Ron barely had time to push Erv up the anthill and out of the way before the elephant was on top of him. He shot almost from the hip, hastily stepping back a couple of paces. As insurance, he fired the second barrel of his .470 on the already collapsing animal, and it fell within a few metres of him.” One dead elephant, a very shaken client and an upset Provincial Warden… the scene was very different to what was wanted. Somehow, in the dust and turmoil, cameras clicked and some remarkable photographs were taken. No one could explain how or why the dart ended up in the cow’s forehead. Erv, once relaxed, proudly showed off his trousers which bore scuffs of mud from the cow’s ear as she brushed past him; he never washed or wore these trousers again – they were framed in a manner to display the mud scrape and hung in his trophy room in Ohio. A couple of days later Erv successfully darted a bull that was collared and Clive Swanepoel at long last did what he was supposed to – collected measurements and data. In the thick bush and scrub, darting the rhino proved challenging and required all Clem’s and his trackers’ expertise; having the two aircraft

Left: The second time around Erv Nutter examines the elephant radio tracking collar made up by Rowan Martin. John White Right: Making last minute adjustments to the collar. L/R Zoe Dell, Erv Nutter, Dolf Sasseen. John White, Ron van Heerden (crouching in the foreground) Dick Pitman’s lady friend, unknown game to the far right. John White

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available was invaluable in keeping tabs on the animal, not only before but after it was darted. Tracking down an animal known for its belligerence is difficult enough and now, with an extra body or two in the ‘hunting’ party, Clem’s hunting skills were certainly put to the test. From beginning to end – locating, darting, cutting open a track as access for the Voneta recovery vehicle, then the loading and offloading of the rhino into the Mana HQ bomas… Erv and Jack witnessed and participated in every facet possible. By day’s end everyone was content and happy, none more so than the clients who were impressed and elated – a unique experience and a bunch of amazing photos. The two weeks passed fairly quickly, with each day out a new adventure - be it looking for elephant, rhino, buffalo, checking for lion spoor and baits; game viewing, as only Mana can offer, was done on foot, by vehicle and from the air – fixed wing and chopper. Complementing the days, time back at camp was not dull either; the resident Mana ele bulls saw to that! John White recalls – “One evening when everyone was sitting around the fire we heard sounds of singing wafting through the trees. On investigating, it was found to be coming from the clients’ camp some fifty or sixty metres away. The four, Erv, Zoe, Jack and Anne were enthusiastically singing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ – we soon discovered the rendition of this stirring hymn was due to the appearance of a small group of elephant bulls that had wandered in to feed on the acacia pods. Every now and again, one would brush against a tent or tweak a guy rope causing the ‘flimsy’ structure to shake. Fearing the end had come, the party decided to sing for help! We moved the benign creatures on and had the grateful folk join us round the fire.” All in all it was a very successful operation - the camp was a happy and well-runaffair with bush showers, a long drop toilet plus a bath out in the open, which caused great mirth among the visitors. The food was excellent, as was the company. From the clients’ perspective they got on well with the staff and everyone else; they were really appreciative of participating in an historic event. Much was learnt, given that this was a trial operation, especially concerning hospitality and the need to streamline everything. But all said and done, the general consensus was that darting safaris could be tied into management and research exercises across the country - the potential was unlimited. It was good PR, it provided a platform for staff training and had the added bonus of earning foreign exchange. In August 1983 Dave Scammell ran a small and fairly low-key safari in the Gonarezhou for some South Africans businessmen - of three black rhino scheduled to be collared, only two were darted. Prices were nominal and once again Rowan Martin was the driving force, and research benefited. Sadly, the Gonarezhou outing was to be the last darting safari; no one seems to know why; changing times and resignations among senior experienced staff are two possible reasons. It was a great pity that the full potential of running what is now known as ‘Green Safaris’ could not be realised in Zimbabwe, done in conjunction with the Department’s monitoring, research and management programs, the potential was limitless.

Left: Mana airstrip - waiting for sightings. Air Force Alouette above the trees and some distance out from the strip. Rowan Martin standing with radio pack, Zoe Dell up front in the passenger seat, Ingrid Schroeder immediately behind Zoe, Dick Pitman to the rear with his companion to his left. Graham Hall obscured at the Super Cub door. John White. Right: Mana airstrip – Alouette landing. Rowan Martin with radio, Ron van Heerden up ahead. Land Rover L/R Zoe Dell and Ingrid Schroeder. John White

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Below: Recovering Erv’s rhino. John White

Game viewing by boat – Dick Pitman setting up the camera while Erv directs operations. John White

The Yanks’ nightmare – a nervous Anne Green looks on as elephant ‘invade’ their camp! John White

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Insert: The ‘bathroom’ before the area was tidied up and screened for privacy. John White

CHAPTER 10

SPORT HUNTING AS AN ALTERNATE LAND USE A BRIEF HISTORIC REVIEW

THE GAME DEPARTMENT—PRE AND POST YEARS Although there was a great deal of hunting taking place, there appears to be little if any record of significant value kept prior to the Game Department coming into being in February 1952. Archie Fraser’s small establishment - excluding him - consisted of a Game Clerk and a Vermin Ranger. Small certainly, but efficient, as his reports show: Licence fees for 1953 amounted to the paltry sum of £3,108. Looking at landowners’ licences only—in a farming community in excess of 5,000 registered farmers, only 433 held licences; even allowing for those who did not permit hunting on their properties, the Government was losing thousands of pounds annually through those who were non-compliant. Of significance was the estimated number of sporting weapons in the hands of the public—some 60,000, with ammunition holdings unknown! The Southern Rhodesia National Hunters and Game Preservation Association was formed in 1952 and acquired hunting rights on Nuanetsi Ranch. Views expressed by Archie Fraser, in the Game Department’s 1954 annual report, read as follows: “It is considered that a strong Association, not necessarily in numbers, will help in the conservation of the wild fauna of the Colony.” In 1956 Crown Land in the Bulalima-Mangwe, Gwelo, Hartley and Chipinga areas was leased to the Association, who only permitted hunting in Bulalima-Mangwe; game in the other areas was protected in the interests of conservation. From here on, through into the early 1980s, the Association continued to lease Crown and State Land. Forerunners of Controlled Hunting Areas, and later Safari Areas, were Controlled Shooting Areas or CSAs—Urungwe CSA was opened in August 1954 and followed exactly a year later by the Sebungwe CSA. The rationale behind the decision was twofold, but primarily orientated around the construction of Kariba Dam and brought into being to reduce numbers of large animals. The secondary reason was to provide restricted shooting for members of the public at a reasonable cost. Implementation of the recommendations made by the Commission of Inquiry on Human and Animal Trypanosomiasis in Southern Rhodesia resulted in the life of the two CSAs being short-lived; sport hunting in Urungwe and Sebungwe together with that in Tsetse-fly Control Areas was indefinitely suspended in 1956. In earlier days hunting on Crown Land or in Tribal Areas was by favour of Native Commissioners—on occasions vetting was done on prospective hunters, so permission was not a foregone conclusion. Several proficient and very competent hunters surfaced in the early fifties, amongst whom were Paul Grobler and Ian Nyschens; Ian joined the Game Department as an elephant control officer, and Paul continued to deal with crop-raiding elephants and other problem animals in the Tribal areas. Love of the chase and wild open spaces attracted most if not all of the rangers and wardens who were to serve the Department; not all had hunted legally, but thereafter frequently proved the wisdom of the old adage, “Set a thief to catch a thief”! In 1961, in terms of the Wild Life Conservation Act 1960, Sapi, Urungwe and Nyakasanga Controlled Hunting Areas (CHAs) were promulgated and opened to hunting. With quotas somewhat on the generous side, dependent on areas, and camp prices far from exorbitant, bookings were widely sought after. Camps were allocated by means of a lottery system, and Draw Day was a festive occasion attracting a multitude of serious hunters, would-be hunters, farmers and, on occasion, a few wives or girlfriends. It was high quality hunting at giveaway prices! Tuli and Wankie CHAs were added a year or two later.

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As in much of the world, recreational hunting has been a major force behind preserving wildlife and wild places in Rhodesia/Zimbabwe. Dr Graham Child – Wild Life and People.

The Zambezi Valley Controlled Hunting Areas or CHAs John White

1974 Tuli and Zambezi Valley Hunting brochure when a General Game Licence cost R$20.00 and Supplementary Licences for an elephant bull were R$150.00, lion and leopard R$60.00 and buffalo R$20.00 Mike Bromwich

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GAME RANCHING/RANCH HUNTING Birthed in l959, game ranching owes its existence to two Fullbright Scholars—Doctors RF Dasmann and AS Mossman who introduced the idea of game ranching. Prior to this, Liebigs Ranch was cropping zebra as far back as 1954 and later sold venison, hides and skins under permit. In view of the expansion of the game ranching industry, the forerunner of ranch hunting, which came into being after the promulgation of The Parks and Wild Life Act 1975 and which grew rapidly following Independence and cessation of hostilities, it is of historic interest to record Archie Fraser’s comments in his prophetic 1959 Game Department Annual report: “In September, 1959, Doctors Raymond F. Dasmann and Archie S. Mossman arrived in Rhodesia to participate in the Fullbright Wild Life Research programme. After a look around and following discussions with a number of organisations and Government bodies, these gentlemen decided to concentrate on pastoral lands, with a view to seeing how game animals fitted in on lands used primarily for livestock production, and also to investigate the productivity of game as compared to livestock. They thought that, on some lands, game meat production might equal or exceed the production of meat by cattle, and that such production of game would be less likely to have a detrimental effect upon the land. They believed, also, that considering the importance of cattle in the economy of both European and Native lands, the future of game in Rhodesia might well be determined by the place that could be found for it on lands now used for livestock, or intended for such use in the future, and that if game were to be maintained on such lands its economic value must be established.” On private land the Department’s primary responsibility has

Matetsi Covered elsewhere is the historical background relating to the government acquisition of land in Matetsi and its policy to pursue a hitherto little-known land use - that of safari hunting. The

Left: An American client with a 40-inch sable taken on Unit 5 in the Matetsi Safari Area Mike Bromwich Right: A bridge on the road into Chete Rene Vincent

scheme soon gave far higher returns than previous conventional land use practices of ranching and/or cropping, thus validating the decision of expropriation. The high quality big game and plains game hunting, spread across the seven concessions, put Rhodesia on the hunting map of the world, particularly in America. Across the board, excluding elephant, trophy quality was good but, without doubt the draw card was sable; as record books show, trophies recorded in both Rowland Ward and SCI were of exceptional quality. Management of the area was sound and continually guided by research efforts; studies showed that safari hunting, utilising a renewable natural resource in marginal areas, did not impact on the environment and maintained bio-diversity. Secondly, financial returns from hunting far exceed those from conventional farming practices, which were entirely unsuited to, and destructive of, habitats in dry and arid areas. Parks and Wild Life Act 1975 Of the new Safari Areas only Chete was tendered out in 1975 and again in 1976. Following a landmine incident involving Spanish clients, the area was closed prematurely. Excluding Matetsi, security concerns did not permit hunting operations in other areas.

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been to encourage landowners to conserve and utilise natural resources, including wildlife, judiciously. In the early/mid-80s it facilitated the rapidly expanding industry through capture and translocation exercises. To this end, and to cater for much needed internal management, two new Management Units came into being with Warden Tim Pauletâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Problem Animal Control/ Management unit working almost entirely outside the Parks Estate. Warden John White, Head Office, who co-ordinated game capture and sales across the country, liaised closely with the Mashonoland Hunters Association which, in this context, is termed as the forerunner of the Wildlife Producers Association that came into being in 1986. John left the Department that year and joined the WPA. Notwithstanding the economic benefits accrued to landowners, particularly those farming in marginal areas, the rapid development of game farming and ranch hunting in Zimbabwe promoted both species conservation and biodiversity, thus fulfilling much of the Departmentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s aims.

Post Independence - 1980 Following Independence safari operators were quick to tender for the major areas on offer and Chete and Chirisa were leased out for five years, and Chewore followed. In the Deka Safari Area elephant and buffalo were put to tender. Several Matetsi concessionaires, either needing or wanting additional big game, bid and were awarded hunting rights. Hunting in Sapi, Urungwe, Nyakasanga and Tuli came back on line, with camps once again being sold by tender. Rested for years as a result of the war, record book trophies were taken in the Lower Valley. Economic Review Hunting in those early days had nothing to do with economics - the Department/Ministry set the prices for both camps and licence fees; deemed it as almost a right to hunt. Public outcry and parliamentary pressure ensured that costs remained low. Market values, supply and demand and value of product did not exist, thus the system as it stood did little if anything to add value to an important resource. The lottery system was replaced in 1976 with hunts being sold by tender and, as forecast, revenue increased; prices followed the allocated quotas; the more animals available, the higher the bids. Almost another ten years would pass before hunts were sold by auction, and only then was the true value of the resource realised. In conclusion, well-managed hunting in Rhodesia/Zimbabwe has proved to be an efficient means of marketing wildlife resources to ensure their continued existence. CONSERVATIONIST TO HUNTER – Tim Braybrooke Bruce Austen and I had, for some time, talked about starting a first class safari outfitters business, so when we left Parks at the end of 1970, it was almost a foregone conclusion that we’d venture into the field of professional hunting. We approached Neil McLeod, a good friend whom I had taken out hunting on numerous occasions, and Neil came in as a sleeping partner. Bruce and I went to Nuanetsi Ranch and spoke to the General Manager, Allan Tredgold, a very experienced rancher and a charming gentleman. He arranged for us to have the whole ranch as our hunting concession - all 900 000 acres of it. Now to find the cash to set it up! My

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total pension remuneration, after all those years in National Parks, amounted to a paltry 5 000 Rhodesian dollars which, these days— 2008—is not enough to buy a beer in a cheap bar! We floated the company with $15 000— Austen, Braybrooke and McLeod Hunting, Photographic and Fishing Safaris, which was among the first in what was then a little known safari industry. We had a friend in Bulawayo, one Harold Bernic, who knew or was related to many of the big manufacturers there and he obtained tents, beds, sheets etc. for us. In fact, everything we needed for a luxury safari camp at factory prices, plus a small percentage for him. He saved us thousands of dollars. Bruce and I shopped around and bought two good second-hand Land Rover safari vehicles, a five-ton Bedford truck and an old fourth-hand Series 1 Land Rover for a recovery vehicle. We managed all this on $15 000 and it included a small generator, fridges, deep freezers, two wood-burning stoves, a water pump, piping and more. I had set up house on my brother-inlaws’ farm in the Norton district. It had an old disused dairy where we stored all the equipment and vehicles in the off-season. In April 1971, Bruce and I set off with the whole camp, and chose a perfect campsite on the Nuanetsi River with the all-important large shade trees and started setting up camp. After two days, the good man Harold Bernic arrived to help us, and when ready it was functional and well organised a la National Parks at its best. Mike Bromwich interrupts: “Fairly late in the first year of the company’s operations I called in at their camp at Nuanetsi Ranch while travelling back to Mabalauta; it was a short detour and I was keen to see how my early mentors were doing. In camp were Bruce, Tim and Brigitte, who I think was then o/c catering. Under canvas, the camp was well appointed and the epitome of luxury; three spacious East African style safari tents made up the client accommodation. There was a large dining tent, featuring a wellstocked bar. Behind the scenes was the kitchen - Bridgie’s domain that lacked little—catering for the most discerning tastes - three- and four-course meals seemingly appeared from nowhere. Hidden away were the workshop, skinning and meat processing facilities, together with the staff lines. Tim and Bruce had their own tents. The hunting vehicles,

Despite there being numerous leopard on Nuanetsi Ranch, Park’s cropping quotas did not allow for leopards to be hunted.

Tim Braybrooke’s hunting vehicle Tim Braybrooke

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specially converted Land Rover personnel carriers, were a far cry from the Land Cruisers of today, and were geared for comfort with two fitted chairs and gun racks positioned behind the front seats, all very reminiscent of the East African hunting wagons. With a tracker, these chaps did it themselves! My visit was short, too short, but I certainly was impressed.” Tim picks up his tale again: “Nuanetsi Ranch, in cooperation with National Parks, gave us a very sensible and generous quota of animals. We were required to utilise the whole ‘game ranching’ quota; animals not shot by clients were taken off by us, and the skins and meat were sold. “Bruce and I, being essentially conservationists at heart, were more in favour of photographic or fishing safaris, but hunting was where the money was. The first year I did one photo safari in the Gonarezhou, and one fishing charter on the Zambezi. We did well the first three years we hunted, and then Bruce decided, rightly I think, that we should expand. “Nuanetsi had no elephant, lion or leopard1, only plains game. Bruce was able to obtain another concession from the government, called the Omay in the Zambezi valley, which was rich in animals lacking on Nuanetsi Ranch. I went with Bruce in the off-season to help set up his new camp in the Omay. It was built in the ethnic style - mud, poles and thatch huts, beautifully done as only Bruce could do. This enabled us to give the clients a good package, with a large selection of trophies. Ten days in Omay, one day flying and then ten days at Nuanetsi. This increased our client days considerably. Our ‘fame’ spread in Europe, America and South Africa, and we did well. “Among our visitors was the Prime Minister Ian Smith who, together with Mrs Smith, spent a few days as our guests on more than one occasion. The Prime Minister was not there to hunt, but to relax. President Clifford du Pont and his wife, Arminell, stayed for longer periods. The President was keen to rest, do a little fishing and sandgrouse shooting. Mrs du Pont, on the other hand, was a keen hunter. They were all charming people, and it was a pleasure to entertain them. Mr du Pont said that he came to get away from parades, cocktail parties and other Government House functions; he enjoyed sitting around our campfire where the conversation was relaxed and vastly different to that which he usually had to put up with! Mrs du Pont spent her time hunting with me. “This went on for several years with a few fishing and photographic clients in between, though the latter were increasing all the time. At the beginning of the sixth year I went down to Nuanetsi Ranch with a learner hunter, Andy Cockett, to set up camp for the coming season. Terrorism had become a problem. The Portuguese had abandoned nearby Moçambique, and ‘terrs’ were infiltrating the eastern border not too far from our camp. I told my wife to remain in Norton until I saw which way the wind was blowing. “I went to Nuanetsi Ranch HQ, borrowed their welding plant, and made two booby traps, operated with a tripwire that fired shotgun shells. These were set up every night on obvious routes into the camp. Andy was a member of a specialist army unit, and I wondered how long I’d be able to keep him. One morning I received a message from Sergeant Major Anthony White who said, “I want Cockett, I want him today! Sorry but you will not see him again in the near future.” “I took Andy to the Police camp for transportation to his unit and it was the last time I saw him for some years.

Client with a good eland taken in the Gwaai Area Tim Braybrooke

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In between hunts and in later years Tim turned his talents to professional guiding. Tim Braybrooke

I later discovered that my nocturnal visitors were in fact Selous Scouts

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“The very night Andy left I was in bed, fully dressed with my boots on and shotgun handy. At about 10pm one of the booby traps went off. I was out of bed in a flash and ran outside to hear heavy boots running between a client’s tent and the dining tent. Thank the Lord I didn’t have Brigitte, the kids or any clients in camp! The moon was at three quarters, but was behind clouds, so I opened up where I thought they were. The foot thumps continued for two or three seconds towards the river. The camp was right on the very steep bank of the river and they fell over the edge into the reeds on the riverbed. “I reloaded with SSG and fired in the direction where I could hear them. I got in three more shots and then they opened up on me with automatic fire, way over my head; I heard them running away through the reeds. Just then the moon came out from behind the clouds and there, between a client tent and the dining area, were two large abandoned rucksacks. (On inspection the next morning, they contained Russian grenades, ammo, a booklet, The Thoughts of Mao, Moçambique tinned food and a half-written thesis on Communism.) “Alone, without an automatic rifle, I was dead scared. I got into position where I could see the rucksacks and also had thick bush behind me. I could hear any approach from behind me as I was sure they’d return for their packs. I sat there for two hours, with the moon flitting in and out from behind the clouds. My staff had been instructed that if they heard any shooting they should stay in the compound and keep quiet. I decided to go and see if everyone was alright. All was quiet. When I made myself known, one of my Shangaan trackers, Hlangani, came out of his hut and I explained what had happened. He reminded me that I had an old British Army .303 rifle with a ten-shot magazine in my gun safe, and volunteered to sit up with me. It was a long night. “Neighbours had heard the shooting, and in the morning the police arrived with a Police Special Branch detail. In the meantime my trackers had ascertained that there were three booted people and two barefooted, probably carriers or guides. The SB man berated me and gave me a hard time, saying, “How could you possibly shoot at people if you don’t know who they are?” “This, and a few other things, made me suspicious, and I later discovered that my nocturnal visitors were in fact Selous Scouts, one of our own clandestine ‘pseudo’ units. Stupid fools! “The same SB chap later came to me and said I’d done a good job— wounded two who’d been picked up in a Mission clinic. He, like many others, thought that ex-rangers and pro-hunters were ‘thick’. Idiot! By this time I knew they were scouts. My trackers had ascertained that one without shoes was a European; our chaps were good. However, the result of all this was that the government said our camp was unsafe. I had to pack up and leave; they did not want any overseas clients killed. “I was able to continue the season and hunt all my booked clients by the good grace and generosity of Rod and Clive Styles, owners of Buffalo Range, and Ian Piercy, who had Madundumela in the Gwaai Forest concessions. Here I hosted Lady Salisbury and her son Richard Cecil who was later tragically killed filming a contact between security forces and terrorists. They were really great people. Sadly, it was then that I decided to end my involvement with the company. Bruce was later to become the Chairman of the highly esteemed Zimbabwe Professional Hunters Association.

freely than either politicians or their officials. The breadth of professional expertise on the Board also provided the Department with fresh perspectives and access to a welcome source of skills, and members assisted in raising financial support for the Department.” The Director and his staff prepared and proposed policies to be followed, and the Director brought these to the Board in formal meetings. Once we had obtained agreement and approval by the Directorate and the Board, formal policy documents were submitted to the Minister, for consideration by the Ministry. On successful agreement and approval by the parties concerned, policy documents were signed by the Minister and myself, and then became formal legal instruments with legislative force and effect. It was hugely enjoyable and fulfilling to be involved in the evolution of these formal policies to protect and nurture the nation’s wildlife heritage, and to visit the wonderful Parks and other wild and beautiful areas controlled by the Department. However, even more enjoyable and rewarding was the opportunity to meet and mingle with the members of staff, both in Head Office, and especially on the ground in the Parks. What a wonderful bunch of people the vast majority were—resourceful, passionate, committed, fun-loving and mischievous, as the mood and need arose. Their loyalty and dedication were exemplary. I retired from the Chairmanship of the Parks and Wild Life Board of my own volition at the end of 1987, after 12 wonderful years at the helm. THE RECCE STORY

Pioneering days — Basil Peterson, Dave and Ben discussing the week’s programme. Emphasis was placed on outdoor work Dave Rushworth

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From simple school outings or excursions into the bush, a seed sown in the mind of a forward and progressive thinking Wankie headmaster grew, and within a matter of years developed into a combined Ministry of Education/National Parks venture known by the acronym RECCE— Rhodesian Environmental Courses in Conservation Education. Dave Rushworth recounts: “In either 1966 or ’67 while I was stationed at Sinamatella we had our first school visits—Gerry Buckland was the Warden at that time. The trips were arranged on an informal basis so there was no real official arrangement as such; pupils from Wankie and Victoria Falls were pioneers of the project. We took the kids out into the veld and camped at Mandavu and Detema Dams; it was a great experience for everyone. These excursions were not undertaken during the holidays but during the school term itself. Paddy Potts, principal of Baobab School in Wankie, was a great motivator and it was he who wanted to have these field trips incorporated into the school curriculum!”

Below Right: Making do—the rest camp kitchen and communal areas became classrooms Dave Rushworth Below: Wearing casual clothes and the obligatory hats, little was formal—here, with specimens in a bottle and a blackboard to assist, Dave talks on snakes

Opposite Page Left: Peter Mitchell helping children make casts of animal footprints; Fred Peterson watching tentatively Dave Rushworth Opposite Page Right: Finding something of interest, Dave holds an impromptu lesson in the bush Dave Rushworth

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Dave Rushworth was transferred to Robins in August of 1967 and it was not until late in 1969 that he gave serious thought as to what to do with Robins during the closed season, November through to May, a period of six months. “It seemed a waste and we looked for something to do—we suggested either walking trails or accommodating school groups. With Regional Warden Bruce Austen’s approval, we got the thumbs up for schools from Head Office. Phil Evans, the Acting Director, was most supportive and Brian O’Donoghue, whose position in Head Office was in public relations, was enthralled with the idea. In November of the same year we met with various headmasters and decided to give the go-ahead to the Ministry of Education for schools to visit Robins Camp that year. “Alec Siemers, who as teacher/ Headmaster back in the mid-50s was a prime mover in the School Boys Exploration Society, now held a senior position in the Ministry of Education—he gave us his full backing and with this came the support of many other school heads. As far as I remember, before the year was out Alexandra Park came in with Erith Harris as the master in charge. Erith was to play a major role in the whole scheme, as was Basil Peterson who was deputy head of Haig Park Primary, who also sent a class. Greenfield from Bulawayo, and Borrowdale School made up the four schools that were involved in the trial period. To bridge a link between conservation and education Ben Bezuidenhout,

who’d been a teacher, was seconded from Department of Conservation and Extension (Conex) as Headmaster at Robins Camp. Ben was brilliant, enthralling children with his lessons on veld management and erosion control. Ben’s enthusiasm for conservation and his teaching experience was an important factor in setting up a successful course programme. Ben, Norma and their children were a great asset to the ‘Robins family’”. At 26 Ben had become the youngest headmaster in the country; after a second posting and some two years at Mangula School, Ben applied and was accepted for the position of Youth Extension Officer in the new field of Conservation Education in the Department of Agriculture; he was assigned to the conservation education project at Robins. Ben recalls: “I shall always remember the halcyon days of living at Robins Camp. Life was bliss, teaching was fun and there was never a dull moment. I have happy memories of Robins, Dave Rushworth, Peter Mitchell, and all the children and teachers who passed through our bush courses. What a grand bunch. It was indeed a privilege to have been part of such a pioneering venture in education.” Such was the success of the pilot project that, in Dave’s words, “the courses could not be allowed to stop; Education was keen to take over the whole of Robins, but Parks could not afford to close down the camp.

“As an alternative, Mushandike - much to the chagrin of Mashaba and Shabani residents - was hijacked for conservation education. Brian Taylor was selected by the Education Department to come as the Headmaster and Education representative at Mushandike. I was Warden, but fully occupied on the RECCE business, as was Brian Taylor; Richard Peek; the Ranger at Mushandike, took over the Warden’s responsibilities for the Park. Brian O’Donoghue was sent down from head office on the administrative side. It was a daunting challenge. Brian and I were required to change a small 20-bed rest-camp into a facility suitable for 50 kids; we hung beds on the walls of chalets and did goodness-knows-what-else to reach our goals. The Lions Club of Fort Victoria provided funds for a small lecture hall, which was put up quickly. Julienne [Dave’s wife] and Butali used this same building as the grub hall to cook on an army gas-kitchen and serve meals to all the children seated at trestle tables.” Mushandike was centrally situated, being almost equidistant from the main centres of Bulawayo, Salisbury and Umtali and considerably closer for schools in the Midlands. Throughout the term standard five pupils arrived mid-afternoon on Sundays and left the following Saturday; during holiday periods in the early days at Mushandike, schools such as Townsend and Churchill came in and used up the holidays, leaving staff little time to sort out the camp, for what had become a back-to-back teaching schedule.

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Alfred Beit standard 5s at Robins. L/R Back row: Bev Fowler, (Restaurant Manager) Vera Fowler, Thelma Sligo (Parent), Stella Day(Journalist – Sunday Mail) Jean Stevenson (Parent), Jaycelle van Heerden, Ben Bezuidenhout, Dave Rushworth, Peter Mitchell, Bill Boaler (Parent)Erith Harris (Headmaster) Roly Stumpkie (Tourist Officer) Children standing: Melissa Richards; Gillian McKenzie; Wendy Sligo; Brenda Sudbury; Astrid Coleman; Judy Wilkin; Susan de Wet; Lorraine Bremner; Jane Leach; Michael Edmans; Keith White; Paul Whitlie; Ian Glenning; Jamie Farrer; Robert Lay; Trevor Symmonds; Horace Kirton; Malcolm Sawyer Kneeling: Melanie Hodgson; Yvonne Gillot; Alison Roebuck; Judy Moran, Nikki Grouse, Diana Boyd, Karen Williams, Janis McVeigh, Ian Ward (KIA during Bush War), David Smith, Peter McLean, David Boardman, Gary Strobel; Kevin Elkington, David Boaler, Graham Gunn, Philip Stevenson Sitting: Charmaine duPlessis (with Alan van Heerden), Wendy Roome, Karen Strong, Susan Cox, Linda Hunter, Pauline Lyth, Carol Mitchell, Leonard Wright, John Bassi, Mark Hunt, Harry McGillvray, William Anderson, Charles Selkirk, Errol Clements, Trevor Gibbs Dave Rushworth

Staff took to off-road driving and light bundu bashing to take children close to animals — the buffalo seen are not in the least bit fussed Ben Bezuidenhout

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In the DNPWLM Annual Report for 1971, the Director comments: “The success of this pilot project venture, judged by expert educationists and qualified ecologists, facilitated the launching of phase II of the experiment. At year-end preparations were well advanced for holding similar courses for some 1 800 children at Mushandike National Park during 1972. Evidence available from the steering committee indicates that the venue has several advantages over Wankie and that the absence of dangerous game should in no way inhibit the success of the project. Applications from 50 schools, on behalf of 3 500 pupils, far exceeds available places on the courses and educational authorities have already indicated that they consider this type of training could well become a prescribed experience for every Standard 5 child.” 1974 saw Ministry of Education provide funds for a ‘new school’ with all the required facilities—smallish dormitories, a new dining room and a modern kitchen. Hugh Square, a Parks Works Supervisor, oversaw the building operations. When Dave Rushworth was transferred to Head Office, Warden Ron Thomson was a more than able replacement for just on two years before his promotion to Provincial Warden Mashonoland South. Ben Bezuidenhout became Education’s senior representative. Brian O’Donoghue was involved in tourist office duties and school administration; Mrs O’D was in charge of catering and housekeeping. Responsibilities for the National Park, law enforcement and other Parks-related issues were handed over to the writer, a senior ranger at the time, transferred in from Rhodes Inyanga. Peter Mitchell took over from Ron Thomson before he too was moved; after eighteen months I ended up in Salisbury in 1976, supposedly to take over Darwendale, but was promoted to Warden and posted to Robins. Understandably, with the Ministry of Education firmly committed to the project, courses at Mushandike took on a more formal approach—subject matter required approval and timetables came into being. Great emphasis was placed on practical outdoor work—causes of erosion; spoor identification, and casting of moulds of various animal footprints; examining legumes/the nitrogen cycle, and a host of other matters. Highlights of the week’s course revolved around the dissection of an animal, and an afternoon and night out under the stars; children, often led by Brian O’Donoghue and Dave - and later on Ron, walked out into the Park with pack donkeys to a pre-selected campsite. Despite the close proximity of several parks to cities and towns, many children had never camped out before—a very sobering thought. Friday nights, as the course drew to an end, saw a get-together and braai, a sing-along and talent contest—the latter always provided much merriment!

Minister of Finance and later President.

Left: Dave had amazing teaching skills Ben Bezuidenhout Right: Dissection time, and Nyasha Murphree gleefully holds the insides of an impala Ben Bezuidenhout

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RECOLLECTIONS – From Dave Rushworth and Ben Bezuidenhout Dave Rushworth recalls that among many memories of ‘schools in the bush’ one specific event always comes to mind, and relates back to Robins and the first dissection done: “We regularly culled impala for staff rations and that’s when we first started doing dissections for the children; we looked at everything—the brain, we dissected an eye, examined the lungs, the stomach, intestines, the liver, kidneys and gall bladder etc. Many of the children did not enjoy the blood and the smell of the stomach contents. I have a photo of Nyasha Murphree, who later married Norman Monks, a senior ecologist in the Department. She was the only one bold enough to pull the insides out of an impala—she loved it, was not at all squeamish and eventually became a doctor. We have kept in touch with hundreds of children!” Ben – “In the early days of environmental education it was extremely difficult to convince inspectors of schools and headmasters, let alone the government, that taking children into the bush to experience life in the raw was good for them. What about mathematics, religion, sport and other subjects? The obstacles facing us were tremendous; there were times when we thought we’d never succeed as the inspectors gave us a torrid time. I believe two incidents were key factors in the final decision going our way. “The first happened towards the end of the pilot scheme at Robins; inspectors and top brass had been with us for a whole week, and things had not gone smoothly—there had been too many slip-ups and the inspectors had interfered too often. Dave was determined to have one last try.” Dave slipped away and shot a kudu some way from the camp, leaving the animal out in the bush. Then, following a braai at a waterhole where the dignitaries were wined and dined, the party set off on a night drive with spotlights. Ben relates: “The vehicles finally reached the dead kudu. A pride of lions was devouring the carcass. Dave reversed the Land Rover towards the carcass and the feeding lions, with Peter [Mitchell] and the third vehicle following suit. Only yards away from the predators, the engines were switched off. There we sat, watching the lions gorge; they grunted and roared at each other. Every now and then one would lash out at another and a fight would ensue. There was silence on the back of the vehicles, which were not enclosed; the atmosphere was electric. After what seemed an age, the vehicles started up and we drove back to camp. “The next day the hierarchy couldn’t stop talking about the experience the night before; they all considered the incident one they’d never forget, and couldn’t wait to get home to tell their friends and loved ones. Suddenly the school in the bush was a must!” The second incident Ben relates also refers to Nyasha Murphree who was chosen to guide Ian Smith, the Prime Minister, around an exhibition in Salisbury of what had been achieved at Robins… “She had Ian Smith totally entranced. She also had him thoroughly exhausted from all her chattering, and I will never forget Smith saying to Wrathall4: ‘For goodness sake, find the necessary money for this school; she’s convinced me!’” All those involved with the RECCE project contributed in their own special and individual

Top: Mushandike National Park—home-to-be of the New RECCE centre Ben Bezuidenhout Right: Prime Minister Ian Smith visits Mushandike. Dave Rushworth stands to the left of Janet Smith. Dave Rushworth Below: Brian O’Donoghue, Mushandike’s Tourist Officer, an avid supporter of the RECCE project, leads pack donkeys out for the children’s night out under the stars; many had never camped before! Dave Rushworth Bottom: Friday — the RECCE week ended with a braai and sing-along, often adding to the fun were informal skits performed by the children themselves Ben Bezuidenhout

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Some of the RECCE Team: Top - Dave Rushworth and Ron Thomson, Ben Bezuidenhout, Peter Mitchell Sources Ben Bezuidenhout, Dave Rushworth, Richard Peek

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ways; Ron Thomson with his wide scientific experience and practical knowledge, Peter Mitchell mentions that teaching children was the most rewarding experience of his time in Parks; Ben Bezuidenhout was a quiet and gifted teacher who never lacked enthusiasm and, among his various other attributes, was a talented trumpet player. Lastly, there was Dave Rushworth who, like Ron, had been schooled at Plumtree. Of Dave, Ben notes: “Dave was one of the most knowledgeable men in the field of environmental education that I have ever met. He was a modest man, quiet and unassuming, who had a fantastic way with children. His understanding of their needs and capabilities was amazing, and many a qualified teacher would watch in astonishment at the way he handled children and managed to get the best out of them. He never raised his voice and never talked down to you. He never blasted you with science. Such was Dave’s way. “One evening he found a little girl sobbing in the dormitory. She was very homesick and missing her parents. Dave disappeared for a while, to return with a bottle full of fireflies. The fireflies glowed like fairy lights; he gave the child the bottle and told her the ‘little fairies’ would look after her and keep her safe for the night. She dried her tears and went to sleep quite happily.” Another time, they came upon a massive bull elephant in a dry riverbed. Ben recalls, “Dave cautioned us to be silent and not to move, whatever happened. “There we stood, some twenty yards from this huge animal. He caught our scent and spun around in a cloud of dust and stared at us; we were obviously in his space. With his trunk raised and ears flapping furiously, he kicked up the dust with his front feet. He then charged two or three yards towards us, kicking up more dust and glared at us angrily. We were petrified. All of a sudden a change came over him. His aggressive display had not achieved the desired effect we had not run away. His big bluff hadn’t succeeded. In an embarrassed fashion he picked up some sand with his trunk and threw it aimlessly around the place. Then he discovered he had a sore eye and rubbed it with his trunk. He gave us one last glare, turned his back and wandered off down the riverbed. “This was Dave at his knowledgeable best. His understanding of situations in the bush was impressive. He constantly amazed me, and I am truly grateful for all I have learnt from him and consider my successes in the field of environmental education due to the good and valuable grounding I received from him. When it comes to matters of conservation and environmental education, Dave was and always will be the best of the best.” This sentiment has been echoed on many occasions by both local and international conservation educationalists and is a fitting tribute to the man who pioneered the RECCE project and put Rhodesia at the top of environmental education on the continent. The Director’s comments in NPWLM Annual Report for 1976: “That Rhodesia reflects favourably against most, if not all, states in Africa in the conservation field in general and in environmental education in particular, was re-emphasised at a conservation education workshop at Skukuza in the Kruger National Park in October. This is a somewhat sobering thought when one considers how little has really been achieved in this country and how much remains to be done if mankind is to face the future here and in the rest of Africa with any confidence.”

By blowing into an impala’s lung Dave demonstrates how they work Rene Vincent

In the late 1970s the deteriorating security situation necessitated that the school be closed. It was never to re-open. Following the cessation of hostilities and Independence, the future of the school lay wide open; after an indeterminate period it became the Department’s training college. A postscript from Dave Rushworth: “I resigned from Parks in 1975 and joined Ossie Bristow at the Salisbury Lion & Cheetah Park. We set up home on a smallholding on the Saffron Walden road, overlooking the impressive granite kopjes. In conjunction with Atlanta Research Station (Rud Bolton), and using the animals at the Lion Park and the granite outcrops, Julienne and I started running school camps in 1976. The area had not yet been affected by the bush war. We had many school and holiday camps until 1978, when terrorist incidents spread to the Salisbury area, and it was no longer deemed safe for children to attend camps. “I then contacted some of my 1957 Squad-mates in senior positions in the BSAP and started a tracker training wing for the BSAP Support Unit, out near Concession, on a three-year contract. “At the end of the ‘war’ in 1980 I bought myself out of the remaining few months of my contract. With the assistance of Graham Child and Phil Evans, I rejoined Parks as training officer, to train a number of game scouts. I had joked that I’d rejoined to get a new issue of khakis - and it wasn’t six months before I got an offer from Southern Suns for the position of game manager at Hwange Safari Lodge, which I accepted. “We were at the safari lodge until 1983, when I accepted a contract to run the Environmental Education Programme in Swaziland. After a year, we moved to South Africa and eventually to the Blyde River Canyon area, where we’ve been for 27 years. “From 1984 to 1997, in this area of very diverse habitats, we ran environmental awareness programmes for many South African private schools, with up to 150 children per week. When ‘peace broke out’ and age started to tell, we gradually switched over to operating tourist chalets and involvement in community conservation projects—which we’ll probably do until we pass on!”

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The Ruese Valley – a known terrorist access route John White

heard approaching helicopters, paused to listen, and then scattered. It must have been a terrible surprise for them to hear the helicopters and suddenly have Fireforce overhead. “While most tracks led south into the area where contacts were taking place, a few veered eastwards and it was obvious they’d be outside the general search area. When they split again, we were left with one set of tracks that led us towards a small kraal. It was obvious that he’d ducked into the first available hut in panic. “We hadn’t had time to draw grenades and fell back on basics. The door was bashed in and fire was directed into anything that could conceal a terrorist. Net result: one kill, one SKS carbine and a couple of F-1 hand grenades. “Once all the bodies and weapons had been back-hauled, we waited our turn and 20 minutes later we were watching golfers practicing their swing. It was surreal. We’d had a contact five minutes’ flying time away, and that evening I drank a cold beer in the Club with a lawyer friend from Salisbury.”

Ed Ostrosky on a VTU call-up Ed Ostrosky

KILLED IN ACTION Five members of the Department, all Rangers in their prime, lost their lives in service of their country. The first of these was Robin Hughes, who was killed on the 18th of October 1973. Robin, a Lieutenant in the Tracker Combat Unit, had volunteered for special operations. He was a fluent Shona linguist with leadership skills, tracking and bush-craft abilities, which made him ideally suited to the shadowy world of pseudo operations. At the time of his death, Robin was i/c a small group of operators made up of RAR soldiers and a couple of turned terrorists. His 2i/c was Mike Bromwich, who has written up an account of Robin’s death in his narrative entitled Early Pseudo Operations, which is included in Jonathon Pittaway’s historical account of the Selous Scouts; Selous Scouts – The Men Speak. Robin, with his many attributes, would certainly have risen through the Department, and who knows where his career may have taken him; he was certainly destined for higher things. Due to the great depth and detail of his research into the history Derek Tomlinson - awarded the Military Forces Commendation (See Appendix for citation details) Patricia Tomlinson

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John, blending into his surrounds, ‘glasses’ the valley below.

Nic Gregory KIA 09.11.1976 Mike Fynn

Richard Smith KIA 28.02.1976 Mike Fynn

Russell Williams KIA 12.01.1978

Kerry Fynn KIA 02.01.1978 Mike Fynn 506

of both the Chewore and Mana Pools areas, it is possible only to include Robin’s papers in the appendices and not in the main body of this account of the Department. Nevertheless, it is a tribute to Robin to record his work that provides an insight into a Ranger who was a cut above most of his contemporises. Senior Ranger Richard Smith, Ranger Nic Gregory and Ranger/Technician Russell Williams were all killed in action during the course of tracking duties. Richard Smith and Nic Gregory were on VTU call-up and Russell, a skilled tracker and Territorial member of Selous Scouts, was part of the volunteer follow-up team comprised of Alistair Hull, tracker Makeko and PATU members hunting down insurgents in Wankie National Park near Isilwane Siding in January 1978. Loved by all, Russell’s death was a tremendous shock to the whole community. Senior Ranger Kerry Fynn’s position was unique as he was taken on initially as the Pilot for Wankie National Park but, without a commercial rating, his post was later amended to Ranger Pilot. In May 1977 Kerry took a short-term commission with the Rhodesian Air Force and after being awarded his wings was posted to 7 Squadron. While flying Alouette helicopters, Kerry was killed in an accident during a Fireforce action on the 2nd of January 1978.

Tribute – Richard Smith Rhodesia Wildlife

Nic Gregory Killed in Action – Charles Mackie Charles Mackie and Nic Gregory on a customary three-week VTU call up, together with tracker Hukuimwe and three others were deployed along the north eastern border near Mukumbura on tracks of a large group of incoming terrorists on the 9th of November 1976. “It had been an extremely arduous follow-up.” Charles Mackie, remembering the fateful day, relates. “We’d been on tracks since five in the morning; it was hot, conditions were harsh and there was no water to be found in that dry and featureless area. The pace was intense, smoke and tea breaks were short; our water supply was all but exhausted, and we were constantly pushed to go faster. At one time the tracking team was split and we were leapfrogged separately because the pace of the follow-up was so intense; we were virtually running on the spoor. “We were very hard pressed. So much so, that Nic actually complained to the Fireforce Commander; he confronted Major Armstrong through the follow-up group we were working with, telling the major, ‘Look, we can’t maintain this pace.’ We were totally and utterly finished and this was exactly what started the furore! Nic showed no fear in confronting Major Armstrong, but was reckless with his language and approach to the Fireforce Commander, to the extent that Major Armstrong told Nic directly, ‘I’m going to court-martial you.’ Nic, extremely forth right but an

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Richard Smith Killed in Action – Sgt. Andrew Mackay B Coy 1RR With Parks trackers already on the ground, Richard was flown in to assist with the mentally and physically draining task of combat tracking. Shortly thereafter - thanks largely to the skill and determination of Parks trackers, the enemy was engaged and a long series of running battles in thick undergrowth ensued, involving Fireforce and 1RR troops, only ending some four hours later, after dark. Contact after contact with the enemy took place at distances of a few yards, if not feet. Sergeant Pete White of 1 Cdo, himself an excellent tracker, was shot dead at point blank range while talking on his radio. Corporal Cookson, another 1 Cdo tracker, was shot dead at close range by an unseen enemy. Trooper Deidrichs also died that day at the hands of an unseen enemy. That’s how thick the bush was. From all accounts, Richard’s death came after yet another close-range contact. He’d been tracking exceptionally well for some hours under extremely difficult circumstances. As trackers do, he led from the front; and while he would have been concentrating one hundred percent on the task at hand - as he would have, had he been tracking a dangerous wounded buffalo through thorn scrub - he was contending with all sorts of distractions that day, which he’d not have had on duty in Parks. The thud of chopper blades, radio communications, shouted orders, to name a few. And somewhere, in all the confusion, Richard was gunned down and died a short while later.

exceptionally determined chap, believing that he and others were being unjustly exploited, told the major to go ahead with his courtmartial threat! “Nothing changed, and we were left to continue as before, tracking as hard as we possibly could. Around six o’clock we contacted the group again. It was a big engagement and many insurgents were killed. With the light fading, Nic and I became separated; I was on one side of a small valley and Nic on the other – perhaps 30 metres apart. “As it got dark and we settled down in our night positions, firing broke out from across the valley where Nic Gregory and his group were sorting themselves out, and Nic was hit. A terrorist, separated from the others and having avoided the after-contact sweep line, fired a random burst. A stray bullet hit Nic on the point of his shoulder and entered his lungs; he was critically wounded. “Army details immediately reported the incident and requested an urgent casevac by Air Force helicopter. Now late and pitch black, there would be no incoming flight until the moon came up sometime after nine. Nic received what attention the troop medics could give and remained very calm where he lay. The helicopter came in as soon as practically possible and picked Nic up. Unfortunately it was just a little too late and Nic died en route to Mount Darwin. “Later that night we had another terrorist walk into our position. Everybody lambasted him. I clearly remember it rained that night; my fingers were wet and soggy. When I touched the barrel of my FN, my skin stuck to the barrel. It was so hot from the firing and the skin just came off; in the morning I had raw hands.” Nic Gregory was an exceptionally competent field officer who lost his life to a stray bullet. His untimely death was felt by all in the Department, especially by his two trackers - the three had grown up together and were close buddies.

“... my skin stuck to the barrel. It was so hot from the firing and the skin just came off; in the morning I had raw hands.”

Russell Williams Killed in Wankie – Alistair Hull On the morning of the12th January 1978 Russell Williams, tracker Makeko and I were called out by the Dett Police to a terrorist

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sighting in the area and were deployed with a PATU stick. Crossgraining in a south easterly direction, tracks of the group were located on the double-trace firebreak not far from Umtshibi Management Camp. The follow-up then began and continued in the bush between the firebreaks for a number of hours. Once the general direction and pattern of movement of the terrorists had been established, Warden Willie Koen and Rangers Richard Simpson, Paddy Curtis (on days off from Chizarira), Jules Turnbull-Kemp and Richard Clough deployed in ambush positions as a stop group further down the firebreak. About a kilometre from Isilwane Siding contact was made with the gang while they were having lunch. During the ensuing fire-fight Russell Williams lost his life and one terrorist was killed. The bullet that killed Russell also destroyed the VHF radio he was carrying, leaving us without any means of communication. A short while later, unable to raise us on the radio the stop group arrived by vehicle and soon thereafter an Alouette helicopter, called in by Willie Koen, was overhead. Unfortunately, being January, the bush, predominantly Terminalia scrub, was thick and the chopper was of little use for aerial reconnaissance. The terrorists scattered after the contact and nothing further transpired. Russell’s body was driven through to Main Camp and later flown to Salisbury, where he was given a Military funeral by his parent unit – The Selous Scouts. NATIONAL SERVICEMEN 1974, two years into the war, selected National Service soldiers began opting for training in bushcraft, tracking and survival, and were seconded to National Parks for a period of six months with a view to recruitment into Selous Scouts, or to be used as trained trackers for the army. Dr. Graham Child recounts: – “I remember approaching the army to have two recruits from each intake attached to us for training after their initial basic training at Llewellyn Barracks. My idea was to bulk up our manpower, at Mana in particular, and at the same time to be able to test suitable recruits for later employment by the Department. Paul Coetsee drew up the training manual for the NS recruits and no one was left to doubt what standards were required!”

Zambians were killed or captured. Blondie felt sure that the more poachers shot, the higher the price of horn would rise, simply increasing the incentive for others to poach. Their own role, he pointed out, was a defensive or holding operation to win time for Clem’s capture team to move as many rhinos as possible elsewhere, where they’d be easier to protect. Leathem was sceptical of Glenn’s belief that the chaps on the ground were locating 90 percent of the rhinos killed. In his estimation it was probably more like 50 percent and possibly as low as 40 percent; He substantiated this by explaining how, after every contact where horn was recovered, teams back-tracked poachers to establish where they’d been hunting and to locate carcasses—they had never found more than 50 percent of the animals they knew had been shot, quoting the Nyatunga contact, where only one of six carcasses had been found. This was located by Manuel Giyai and not by aircraft, despite 50 hours of PRAW flying time in an area of some 60 000 hectares where the poachers had been active for several days. In this instance the success rate of locating carcasses to horns recovered was less than 17 percent! In Chewore and Mana Pools before the poaching began, it was not unusual to see six rhino in a morning during the course of a patrol, and in the Pfumbe/Chigusa area, often as many as eight. There were rhino everywhere, which is why the Zambians could come across for one or two nights and leave with up to six pairs of horns. By September 1987, the date of Leathem’s resignation, anti-poaching units had, in less than three years, killed 56 poachers, wounded another 18 and captured 17. During the same period, 338 carcasses had been found, and yet there were still a lot of rhino around. For the next two years they continued killing and arresting poachers, but crossings did not stop. C O N F I D E N T I A L – An account of covert and unorthodox anti-poaching measures compiled from personal interviews with retired Warden Steve Edwards. The sudden onslaught in the mid- to late ‘80s seemingly caught the Department with its pants down. How could this happen to what was undoubtedly the finest conservation agency in Africa and possibly the world, tasked to protect the then largest population of black rhino in Africa? Glenn Tatham, the Chief Warden at the time, declared that “drastic situations require drastic solutions”, so Operation Stronghold was launched. There had been major changes within the Department and political and unnecessary interference were the main reasons for low staff morale. This was orchestrated, encouraged, fuelled and abetted by a clique of men who were not wildlife or environmentally motivated, but power hungry and eager to please their cronies and masters. Those involved included senior staff way up the ladder, certain members of the Investigations Branch, and others who rose to hold senior Provincial and Head Office posts. There was also a distinct change in the calibre of graduates from the ‘College of Knowledge’, the staff training centre at Mushandike, a once well-respected source of genuine and dedicated wild life officers. Graduates were politically motivated rather than ecologically and environmentally; most felt it beneath their dignity to go on patrols, get into the field on foot and get their hands dirty. To them this type of work was menial; foot patrols were for game scouts, not officers - as rangers and above were referred to. To them, ‘an officer’ meant he or she should be in an office. There were now only a few seriously dedicated officers still left in the Department. These men did get out into the field, did carry out foot patrols, did continue to observe and record wild life, habits, and habitat, but were seriously hamstrung through lack of funds and resources and were often at the receiving end of politically motivated allegations and smear tactics, all designed to get the last of the dedicated officers out of the Department. The number of carcasses turning up in the Valley, all minus their horns, clearly indicated that Zambians were crossing the border in numbers, sometimes in gangs as large as eight, but in most cases in groups of four. Armed initially with .375 rifles, then, with time, anything capable of projecting a missile. Ultimately the ubiquitous AK47s and a few SKSs found their way into the hands of poachers. Through assistance from the ZRP ballistics branch, headed by dedicated policeman and conservationist Chief Superintendent Charles Haley, who identified recovered .375 bullet heads, it became apparent that most of the poaching was being carried out by only a few gangs who

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Top: Chief Superintendent Charlie Haley, searching for bullet heads, works a putrefying carcass over with metal detector Steve Edwards Forensic scientist Chief Superintendent Charles Haley January 2009 Steve Edwards

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roamed about the Valley floor. Carefully orchestrated intelligence-gathering operations all started to point to Lusaka, where one or more persons were responsible for co-ordinating poaching activities. Across the border the modus operandi seemed to be much the same for many of the gangs, and pick-up and drop-off points were often used, leading the intelligencegatherers to believe that poachers were being transported down into the Valley by vehicle. Observation posts, or OPs, set up and manned by a select few on the Zambian side, proved suspicions true. Vehicle descriptions and number plates were jotted down, together with other relevant information such as the numbers involved, dress, and the directions taken. A ‘holiday’ into Zambia was planned. To avoid suspicion, and not to raise alarm among some of the directorate who were not trusted, Steve Edwards took official leave and, once in Zambia, established communications with the Head of the Zambian AntiCorruption Unit, a Mr Paul Russell. He also met with sympathetic safari operators who ferried him around to places of interest—the Korean Embassy, the Department of Water Affairs and to the Surveyor General’s office; all were linked and involved in rhino poaching. Photos were taken of hidden compartments in a specially modified Peugeot 505 used by diplomats and certain members of the Korean Embassy to smuggle or transport ivory and rhino horn. On a tip-off from Steve, the Peugeot was eventually picked up at Chirundu, carrying ivory. Unfortunately the operation was ‘blown’ by the ZRP and the diplomat released—diplomatic immunity, coercion, involvement, or incompetence— anything appeared to be feasible. Assisting in this operation because of his contacts with CID and Special Branch was Senior Ranger Pete Westrop. While in Zambia, Steve purchased the shoes and boots for the special reaction teams that Blondie Leathem refers to, then set up an informer network in the ‘Baghdad’ part of Lusaka’s high-density suburbs and infiltrated some doctored ammunition into the poachers’ networks. He even managed to trace some .375 rifles to the Zambian Wild Life Department! Through the efforts of Mr Russell, coupled with the recovery of a good many rifles, the forays with .375s stopped. Much later, when Steve was Warden Head Office, he requested that the .375 rifles, that had been seized or recovered in contacts, be handed back to the Department, which was the normal and accepted practice. Many of the .375s were good pre-’64 Winchesters - reliable and well-tested rifles. The ZRP refused to comply. Steve recalls that in the early days patrolling scouts and the anti-poaching teams lacked good radio communications, but thanks to some good bargaining and pleading by Glenn Tatham (then the Chief Warden), Russell Taylor (Wild life Ecologist based at Matusadona) and the sterling efforts of Lynne, Russell’s wife, the first Motorola hand- held radios were acquired. They proved invaluable and boosted the morale of game scouts who, until then, patrolled for weeks on end without any means of communication. The situation was pretty desperate. In one particular incident in Chewore, scouts were involved in a contact with armed Zambians

and it took them two days to make the report. They’d run all the way from the scene, leaving behind their own packs and the kit of the poachers. Some three days later, when Steve and the police returned to the scene, the bodies were in the most appalling condition. Questions were asked about what might have happened had anyone on the patrol been wounded. This particular incident motivated the campaign to get good and reliable equipment into the Valley. Eventually there was only a small group of officers and some reliable scouts who reacted to most if not all of the incursions. Chaps were being flown around the country to all the hotspots and doing what they could. By this time, however, some sophisticated patrol equipment had been acquired. “The gadgetry was either loaned to us by sympathetic CIO officers, chaps in the police or NGOs, and included binoculars, infra-red torches, night vision goggles (NVGs), infra-red homing devices, LTIs - or laser target indicators, silenced and specialist weapons, good radios and batteries.” Here it should be mentioned that due to sensitivity, even at the time of writing, it is not possible to describe or give specific details about the specialist equipment that came into the hands of staff or was procured. With this newly acquired equipment it was possible to take the fight to the poachers. Instead of waiting to bump into a gang after hearing shots or tracking them down on foot, Steve and others now went looking for them. Still needed, however, were foot patrols and ground coverage in areas of the Valley that supported good numbers of rhinos, and here the work of dedicated scouts was invaluable. Should shots be heard or tracks located, game scouts reported back to base in what was termed the NDAT format N—Number in group D—Direction – the direction in which the poachers were moving A—Age – estimated age of tracks T—Type – all patrols carried ‘spoor’ cards for identification of sole patterns of commonly used and known poachers’ footwear (this information being vital to reaction teams should they be ferried into an area to cross-grain or cut for tracks ahead of the reporting scouts) Time was always of the essence and the specialist group being on standby was always ready to react. The team of between two and four men, having been given a four- figure map reference, moved out almost immediately and headed into the area where shots had been heard or tracks located. As they moved in, the game scout patrol was withdrawn. Once on the ground, the nearest mountain, hill, ridge or large tree that would provide height and could be climbed, would be selected for a point from which the night vision goggles might be used. In the early days the NVGs were huge, very heavy and cumbersome - and heavy on batteries too. Checking from every vantage point, the group carried the equipment up and down mountains and hills all night, until a campfire was spotted. A compass bearing was taken from the position where they stood to the glow of the campfire. Before walking in on the compass bearing, they checked to ensure whether other patrols were in the area and if they had fires burning. Once the security checks had been carried out the group, with skills honed from hours of night training exercises, began their slow walk into the camp on the compass bearing. Steve’s account of a walkin is descriptive from all aspects: “It could take most of the night and we could get to the poachers’ camps sometimes at dawn. If this were the case it just became a normal daylight contact. But mostly, we were able to hit a camp before first light and catch the poachers unawares. Of course there were desperate, frustrating, exhilarating, and totally petrifying times! It’s difficult when you walk into an elephant in the dead of night, or a herd of buffalo fast asleep that suddenly erupts to life right around you and the buffalo not knowing where to run, but going in every direction. You freeze and hope you won’t get run over or gored. Or you come face to face with a huge eye just three feet in front of your face. It is level with your eye and you try to freeze hoping, whatever this huge creature is, it won’t see you. But it does, and suddenly flies through the air AWAY from you - it was only a lesser bushbaby or Pookie and its eye was reflecting the infrared light within the NVG. Or the very animal you’re trying to save suddenly boils out from the bush alongside you and thankfully thunders off in another direction!” The teams worked the Zambezi from Kazungula to Kanyemba, Chete, Chizarira, Matetsi,

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Night Operation Team, all carrying night vision glasses and silenced weapons: Steve Edwards, Manuel Giyai and Charles Hayley. Steve Edwards Below: Chris Packenham at Phumbe. Steve Edwards

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Kariba, Mana Pools, Chewore, Makuti, Charara, and Matusadona, sometimes deploying by boat, canoe, vehicle, and plane, but always doing the last leg on foot at night. Those involved in the main were Steve Edwards, Glenn Tatham, Mark Brightman, Charles Haley, Chris Packenham, Scout Crispin, Sergeant Mackson, and Senior Scout Keni. In the latter years Glenn, Chief Superintendent Charles Haley, and Steve would often react from Harare and take off in the Cessna 185, piloted by Glenn, and head for the area in question. Landing at the strip nearest to the scene, they’d ready it for night flying operations laying out flares - tins with cotton waste and diesel - along the runway. Taking off at last light, Glenn would head in the opposite direction to the area where the shots or fresh carcasses were located, and climb to between 8 000 and 10 000 feet. Once at the required height, he’d turn and fly in a straight line towards the area from which the report originated. Steve wore the night vision glasses. With a fire visible from a long way off with the NVGs, it normally didn’t take too long before the poachers’ camp was located. While approaching and passing over the camp Steve began the much-needed task of orientating himself with physical features on the ground. Information such as bends in rivers, cliffs or characteristic hills, large open vleis or grasslands, dongas, rocky outcrops all played an important role in positioning the camp exactly where it was on a map. Tree lines, thickets, pools of water in dry river courses all helped complete the picture and would be of immense importance during the

walk-in. With the certain knowledge that poachers seldom used the same camp for more than one night, it was imperative for the team to react that night; to miss the camp was not an option. As light interfered with the night vision glasses, it was necessary to keep the aircraft in complete darkness—having no instrument panel to refer to made for a very nervous and stressed pilot. This added to Steve’s responsibilities and he regularly had to look over Glenn’s shoulder to check the instruments through the NVGs and advise him that they were maintaining the correct height, flying straight and level, and on the correct heading. Although Glen couldn’t see the poachers’ camp or the runway with the altitude and dark, it was possible for navigator Steve to

A tired Charles Haley & Mark Brightman return to Mana following an unsuccessful night operation Steve Edwards

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have them clearly visual most of the time. The home-made flares worked as efficiently as proper runway flares, and would be relit by the ground support team after the camp had been located and the plane was about to turn for home. Glenn and Steve took simple and sensible precautions not to alert the poachers—the camp was never circled, nor did they turn back immediately after passing over the position; they kept going in a straight line as if flying overhead to another country. Ever cautious, Steve, Glenn and Charles Haley believed there was always a possibility that circling would give the game away, so if anything needed re-checking, Glenn, having turned many kilometres away from the suspected camp, would return on the correct heading to the strip and once again over-fly the position. Steve, himself a parachutist, had tried to get a team together that would jump into the area at night aided by night vision equipment. Soldiers from the Parachute Regiment were very keen, but there were not too many volunteers from Parks!

night operation. Unable to control unexplained bouts of coughing, the team was forced to leave him at the vehicle. To what extent rogue elements of the Zambian Army were involved in rhino poaching is not known. Perhaps the incursion and follow-up that is recorded below was the only incident of its kind. Reacting to a report, from an OP on the Kota Kota Hills, of shots followed by a sighting of Zambian soldiers, Steve together with Stephen Zvinangosa, Warden Marongora, reacted with scouts and picked up the tracks of 12 soldiers to the west of Makuti. Onto something way bigger than the norm of following up gangs of four, Steve hastily went and met with soldiers of 1 Para-battalion who were fortuitously on a tracking course in the Makuti Hills. They were available for immediate deployment, and with them came an armed Alouette helicopter. Keen and dedicated, the soldiers ran on the spoor chasing the ‘poachers’ from one hill to another and, with the stop groups that Steve had positioned, began boxing them in to a point where they could only make their escape from Zimbabwe via the Chimwa trail - a well-used crossing point into Zimbabwe from Zambia. It was there that ZRP, whose assistance had also been requested, had been positioned and instructed to ambush. When the Paras arrived at the ambush site, they found only the police, who were nonchalantly cooking on the sandy river beach—what followed was a short, heated staccato exchange of words that sounded more like gunfire. It was very obvious that the police, either scared out of their wits or in collusion with Zambian soldiers, had let them get through the Chimwa trail; they might have even ferried them across the river—that thought certainly entered everyone’s minds. For tuppence or less the Paras would have willingly shot the police. In conclusion, Steve feels that the everpresent hassles—harassment, untoward accusations and political pressures—seemed deliberately to be targeting those trying to protect the country’s heritage. ••• Operation Uncle, like many other occurrences during the Rhino Wars, is a story on its own and relates to a sting operation spawned in Harare, following a call from a

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Once on the ground, maps were laid out and the position of the camp marked with the details accumulated during the flight. Coupled with the sound map-reading skills of all involved, this was normally pretty quick and always accurate. Thereafter they worked out the quickest, safest and most reliable means of getting as close to the target as possible without fear of being detected. More often than not vehicles were used to access camps to a point where the team could safely walk in, or follow a prominent feature such as a mountain range or river. With noise carrying further at night, the squad would disembark well out of earshot of anyone awake in the camp. Close to the camp, the team waited at a rendezvous point while Steve recce’d into the camp to check on numbers and the whereabouts of everybody. Having thoroughly memorised the layout of the camp, together with other pertinent information, Steve ever so quietly made his way back and briefed the others in the group. Once everyone was au fait and understood their individual areas of responsibility the team moved out of the RV and began the most dangerous part of the whole operation, a silent entry into the camp. For this, the final phase, Steve preferred to go in with just one other person. Cautiously, one step at a time with their senses strained, the pair would move forward. During the last 50 to 20 metres, moving as one, the second member of the team would hold onto Steve’s shoulder. Both were armed with night vision equipment and laser target indicators so, once in the camp, the contact was fierce, brief and over within seconds; there were few if any who escaped. Such was the success of these operations that 17 poachers, most armed with AK47s, were killed within a few months. Steve Edwards’ success against poachers didn’t go unnoticed, and although it was fairly easy for him to fob off questions from most in Head Office, Willis Makombe, the Director, would have none of Steve’s stonewalling and refusal to divulge clandestine techniques. In the end Glenn Tatham was given a direct order from Makombe to instruct Steve to spill the beans. Not willing to disclose the modus operandi and thus compromise strategies, Steve spun the Director a yarn that resulted in him being given an instruction to train a few blue-eyed Mushandike college students. One, deemed the best of several put through their paces, was chosen, but he failed on his first

Decorations and Awards (Civil) DCC - The Diospyros Cross and Clusters—for distinguished service. SSB - The Sabi Star and Bar—for gallantry in the fields of conservation CLM - Crossed Mopane Leaves—the civilian equivalent of ‘Mentioned in Dispatches’ ROE - Ribbons of Excellence (A Ladies award)—for enduring undue hardships in the field and at home while supporting their menfolk. THE TRAGIC DEATH OF JOHN RALSTON – Mike Bromwich Left: John White receiving ‘The Diospyros Cross and Clusters ’— for distinguished service. Mike Bromwich Right: Mrs Kim Johnson awarded ‘the Ribbons of Excellence’ Mike Bromwich

Department’s radio network, it was obvious from the tone and fast speech that something was either on the go or radically wrong. It was almost identical to wartime transmissions when an incident was being reported or urgent assistance was required; I remember mentioning this to Julia, my wife. There was a pause in transmission and Ranger Ben Hoffman, assisting in the tourist office, hurried through the office back door and called me to the radio. I was told John Ralston2 had been shot by dissidents and that another Chirisa Ranger, together with a Tsetse Officer and his wife, were missing, believed to have been abducted. At that stage dissidents were very active throughout Matabeleland. I called Chirisa and spoke to John Hutton, a postgraduate student. John was in a dreadful state and briefly related the same story. I told John to remain on standby while I went to the main offices. Ben was instructed to close down his radio to prevent others, including tourists, from picking up bits and pieces of conversation. En route, I broke the appalling news to the others; everyone was devastated. After opening up the Provincial Offices and making contact with John Hutton again, I called Chief Warden Barrie Ball on his radio on the off chance he was on the air. There was no reply. For an hour or so it was impossible to raise either Barrie or Dr Child by telephone. The Main Camp and Dett telephone exchanges were archaic, with no direct dialling facilities—calls had to be booked; it took anything up to 20 minutes or longer for a connection to be made. Eventually the calls came through and

Regrettably no photographs of John are to hand.

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CHAPTER 14: THE BEGINNING OF THE END

Sunday the 12th of December 1982 was much the same as any other Sunday at Main Camp. In the Tourist Office it was business as usual; one member of field staff was on duty and another on standby, and everyone else was left to their own devices to do as they pleased. Around midday, as normal, most of those on the station made their way to the Waterbuck’s Head, the Main Camp restaurant complex, for a pre-lunch drink; a few sat inside but the majority chose to relax in the shade outside. Every now and again a tourist officer would pop out of the near-by tourist office for a quick chat. Sometime around one o’clock in the languid early afternoon heat the tourist office radio suddenly came to life. Although it was not possible to hear the actual transmission on the

I spoke to both. After explaining the situation as I knew it, I advised the Chief Warden that the Wankie Super Cub and pilot, Ranger Peter Morgan, were on Station; authority was granted to send Pete with Ranger Barney O’Hara through to Chirisa to spend the night and bring back John Ralston’s body in the morning, Peter and Barney, both armed, left for Chirisa in the late afternoon. Believing John’s death, and the abduction of Ranger Steve Atwell, Tsetse Department’s Tom Smith, his wife Sue and their young nephew to be the work of dissidents, contact was made with the commander of the Army Fireforce in Lupane, where it had recently been deployed to counter dissident activity. With no refuelling facilities available either en route to or at Chirisa, the helicopterborne force was unable to react or put trackers onto the ground. The next morning an ‘All Stations’ broadcast came through from Chirisa, saying that the people responsible for yesterday’s attack were back and that help was urgently required - the fear in the man’s voice was palpable. Within a short while of my speaking to John Hutton I was able to inform him that troops from 1 Para Battalion were airborne and would be landing at Chirisa shortly. Little more of importance was heard until after lunch, when Pete Morgan and Barney O’Hara returned. Barney was not only distraught, but seething with anger—he said the CIO and 5th Brigade had shot John Ralston; the house was riddled with bullets, no one had any idea as to the whereabouts of those missing. A day or so later, we learnt that Steve Atwell, together with the others had been detained at Gokwe Police Station. There is some disparity between the accounts of Steve Atwell and Tom Smith, both of whom were at John’s house at the time of his demise. In 1981 Steve Atwell was one of my rangers in the Matetsi Safari Area and I knew Tom Smith from my days in the Gonarezhou when he was a sergeant in the Army Engineers based at Mabalauta. I spoke to him a few months after the incident and have a very clear recollection of what was told to me. Both agree there were elements of 5th Brigade and CIO present; an arms cache had been recovered from a termite mound - there was nothing sinister in this find, which consisted of bits and pieces of an RPD machine gun belt, devoid of ammunition; water bottles of communist origin; a Chinese rifle oil bottle; a few rounds of ammunition and other miscellaneous spent military junk… in reality, nothing more than a few war mementoes. Apparently a labourer saw footprints leading to the anthill and, being inquisitive, eyed what had been dumped, left everything in situ and reported it to the CIO. Smith mentioned the CIO chaps were fairly reasonable; the matter needed to be cleared up and requested John to accompany them to Gokwe, where everything would be finalised. John agreed and, rather untidily dressed - possibly in a pair of PT shorts and T-shirt, asked if he could first change into Parks’ uniform. The CIO chaps okayed this, and John went into the house to change. On his return, he found the CIO in a storeroom off the garage and adjacent to the verandah. Open in front of him was a trunk or metal box; in it, rifle grenades, hand grenades, magazines, ammunition and bits and pieces of uniform. John was asked what this was. He denied all knowledge, turned on his heel and went back into the house. Some distance behind him, a CIO officer followed. A shot rang out; there were shouts from inside the house, then the 5th Brigade soldiers dotted around the building opened fire. A CIO officer put a pistol to Tom Smith’s head and told him not to move! Thereafter the two accounts are very similar. In a letter to me, Steve Atwell mentions he saw a bunch of soldiers and what he thought to be policemen at John’s house, and that he, Tom Smith and his wife and nephew walked in on a nasty and deteriorating

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‘Ranger dies in shoot-out with security forces’ The article that appeared in the Harare Herald on the 14th December 1982. Geoff Higgs

Steve’s letter continues: “The CIO, together with an officer from 5th Brigade, started questioning me - I had no idea what was going on; they kept insisting I lived at the house otherwise why would I have come in. The more I denied it and tried convincing them I lived in the house next door, the more abusive and aggressive they became! They then decided to search ‘our’ house and turned to the storeroom next to the garage; having just taken over from Warden Tony Conway, much of John’s belongings were still in packing boxes. They started to go through everything; eventually they came to a metal box, opened it and found grenades, ammunition, cortex [detonating cord], uniforms and other bits and pieces. At this point the situation really turned ugly – we were accused of holding arms of war and being dissidents. Both John and I were in complete shock; John went white as a sheet, he couldn’t speak. They began to beat us; my pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears. Somewhere along the line they decided to separate us; John was taken away towards the bedroom. Amidst the beatings, now with rifle slings and rifles, the storeroom search continued. There was the sound of a shot and the five CIO officers with me vanished, making their escape. One person dived through a plate glass window; others disappeared through the gauze mesh on the verandah! The soldiers outside opened fire; hundreds of rounds later, the firing stopped.” “I got up and walked into the garage and out into the driveway. This caused a number of soldiers to open fire again, but this time at me. Sue Smith, who was at the gate, stood up and shouted to them to stop shooting, I was unarmed. I was standing in a dust cloud caused by bullets hitting the ground around me. One stray round hit the rear differential of Derek Adams’s Land Rover.” “There was complete silence from the house and no sign of John; the soldiers were wild-eyed, confused and jittery. Tom, his 10-year-old nephew and I were tied up with

cortex cord—hands behind our backs and literally thrown into the Land Rovers; Susan was not tied or shackled. We were driven at speed for a couple of kilometres to the airfield. There the vehicles stopped; we were pulled out, beaten, kicked, bayonets were pushed into the backs of our necks and we were accused of all sorts of treasonable offences. Talking in Shona, which I understood, they were undecided as to what to do with us: a few wanted to shoot us there and then. It was very unpleasant, but fortunately sense prevailed. We were bundled back into the Land Rovers and were driven through to Gokwe; forced to lie face down in the back of the vehicle with our hands tied behind our backs. The two-hour journey over bad roads was very uncomfortable. “The Gokwe Member in Charge, whom I knew, refused to allow me to be taken back to the 5th Brigade camp for interrogation; the soldiers were literally itching to get their hands on me. We were imprisoned in a fenced, corrugated iron cell with a cement floor very similar to dog cages at the SPCA. Later that night the soldiers, shouting obscenities and telling us what they’d do to us the next day, began banging on the cell walls and throwing rocks onto the roof. Sue Smith, who had been detained in the charge office, was fortunately spared this additional harassment.” “The following morning we were separated, interrogated and finally made to write and sign statements. Later that afternoon the senior CIO officer confirmed I did not share the house with John, and that Derek Adams and I lived next door. Later the Member in Charge advised us we had been ‘cleared, for now’ and that he would drive us back to Chirisa; en route he stopped at the Chombo store and bought us a few beers, which went down very well”.

... he found John’s body in the cupboard, the house riddled with bullet strikes and everyone else missing.

As their ordeal began, and unbeknown to Steve and the others, John Hutton heard the shooting and went to investigate; he found John’s body in the cupboard, the house riddled with bullet strikes and everyone else missing. Hutton presumed that his friends and colleagues had been abducted by dissidents. He then went to the radio and put out an ‘all stations’ call, which was picked up by Main Camp Tourist Office. Tuesday morning saw Chief Warden Barrie

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CHAPTER 14: THE BEGINNING OF THE END

situation. The group had just come back from a party somewhere; John Hutton, a crocodile researcher based at Chirisa, the last of returning revellers, chose not to stop and continued on to his house. Steve notes that the soldiers were extremely aggressive, and that John Ralston was being questioned by a CIO officer about the ‘cache’ in the termite mound.

Ball and Graham Nott, the newly appointed Investigations Officer, fly into Chirisa. John Ralston’s body lay in the cupboard of his bedroom; there was a single bullet hole in his head, a .357 revolver lay at his side. The trajectory of the round was traced and the .357 cartridge-head was found lodged in a shelf above; John had taken his own life. John’s suicide was kept under wraps for a few days; it was brought out into the open at a specially called meeting at Head Office in the research library. I was briefed shortly before the meeting by Graham Nott - evidently there were conflicting views within Head Office as to whether John’s death should be announced as suicide, which it was, or left untold. I told Graham rumours were already spreading among some of the younger rangers—it was imperative the facts be made known. John Ralston was extremely intelligent. Warden Oliver Coltman ranked him highly as a Senior Ranger, but mentioned there was considerably more to John than met the eye, Susan, Oliver’s widow, is to this day still of the same opinion. I visited Mana Pools in early 1982 when John Ralston was the Senior Ranger in Charge; I knew John well from his early days at Robins, where he’d been one of my rangers. John told me he was afraid and wanted out of Mana Pools; he didn’t elaborate, other than to say he was wanted in Zambia on a trumped-up murder charge relating to the drowning of a Zambian fish poacher in the Zambezi. It was unheard of to want a transfer out of Mana; without a doubt he was scared. In hindsight, the matter should have been pursued. No mention was ever made of John holding munitions. Nick Tredger notes in his book Rhodesia to Mugabe’s Zimbabwe: Chronicles of a Game Ranger, “I had been with John when we’d jointly disposed of everything remotely sensitive, even including used cartridge cases. The chance of him retaining a box of grenades was absolutely ludicrous.” Nick and John were the best of friends; the arms amnesty had come and gone; the government had legislated a mandatory seven-year jail sentence for anyone found in the possession of ‘weapons of war’. Both knew the score if they were caught with anything illegal. Would John, as intelligent as

“They locked Willem up; they kept him in custody for four or five nights which Willem, who suffered from claustrophobia, found very, very difficult.

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he was, have disregarded the threat of torture at the hands of CIO and a seven-year jail sentence? This seems very unlikely. Was John set up or framed? In view of the dissention on some stations, coupled with the fact that attempts had already been made to frame other members of staff, this is certainly a possibility; it would give the Government security agencies due cause to cast suspicion on every white officer. The skewed report in the Herald Newspaper certainly saw to that—there was no gun battle, none of the ‘security forces’ was wounded—a CIO officer cut himself diving through a plate glass window. Was it a charade? Why did the CIO chaps start to open boxes in the storeroom; did they know what they would find? With John Ralston’s tragic death, the truth will never surface. Tailpiece Once John Hutton discovered his buddies were in jail, he searched the house shared by Steve Atwell and Derek Adams for any ‘unwanted’ military paraphernalia. He found a couple of bayonets and other bits and pieces, as well as a shotgun; like any good friend would do, he got rid of everything. The shotgun, unbeknown to him, was a Department issue firearm used for problem animal control; a while later, and after considerable effort, rangers recovered it from a deep pool in the Sengwa River into which it had been thrown! THE ARREST AND DETENTION OF WARDEN WILLIE DE BEER An account of this event has been documented in From Rhodesia to Mugabe’s Zimbabwe by Nick Tredger, but warrants re-telling as a frightening example of the subterfuge, harassment and intimidation used by the police and CIO, in collusion with junior Parks staff to get at ‘white officers.’ It was a Thursday - unfortunately no one can recall the date - and Warden de Beer was due back from leave the next morning; in the Warden’s absence, Senior Ranger Nick Tredger was in charge of Marongora. Sometime during the morning, game scouts, returning from a patrol, reported to the office and presented a hand grenade to the Senior Ranger, informing him that it had been found on their patrol. As a result of the war and contacts between security forces and terrorists, limited ordnance was known to be lying about the Valley; the