My Zambia

WRITER: IRENE AMIET PHOTOGRAPHY: IRENE AMIET PHOTOGRAPHY

hen I dream of a place where the leopard’s paw touches the sandy riverbank as the sun rises over the Luangwa River and baboons call under nature’s open circus tent, where the lion’s roar carries across the flood plains further than any other place I recall and hippos storm into the Zambezi at its broadest and mightiest—I dream of Zambia.

Having had the fortune to travel extensively over Southern Africa as a research volunteer and a safari executive as well as a professional photographer, certain places have made an impression beyond fondness or excitement; special places that stay aglow in your mind until you can eventually return.

Covering an area of 22,500 square kilometres, the great Kafue in Zambia is one of the larger conservation areas in Southern Africa. Founded in the middle of the last century but still relatively uncharted, the Kafue is a place that deserves to be called wild. The northern flood plains are home to some of the most resilient lion families. There, in the Busanga Plains, they stalk the tall grass for lechwe and puku antelope while storks and cranes circle in great flocks above. The open grasslands are similar to East Africa’s topography but visitors can find themselves completely alone on a game drive even in the high season. Safari camps are situated in the middle of the flood plains, providing guests with a sense of being on an island in the midst of a sea of wilderness with an unobstructed 360 degrees’ view. The resulting sense of vulnerability is a luxury in our fast-paced world. At night, a hippo’s grunts might enter your consciousness from below the camp’s stilts. One can’t help but feel submerged in nature, one heart within the whole.

When the morning mists are slowly lifting over the open plains and lechwe horns begin to materialise with advancing daylight, the waterholes are tinged in deepest carmine red for a moment. Eventually, the sun burns off the night and shows us a glimpse of what awaits discovery. The Kafue is home to some of the biggest herds of roan antelope, whose russet hides play off the tree-bark of the wooded areas; and when the warm wind blows across the plains, the crowned cranes hover like string puppets over the grasslands where they feed. Herds of buffalo trudge across the hazy horizon; in the pockets of the plains still holding water, hippos fight for dominance. In August, during Zambia’s dry-season, only a few of the plains’ ponds still contain enough water to enable these animals to lounge in great concentrations. Their massive bodies plough through the floods and part the water’s surface, creating wakes lapping on shore long after they have once again submerged, beady eyes glittering as they communicate in deep throaty grunts.

In the Busanga Plains, nature is active around you and there is no haste to chase a sighting. You do not have to share a lion pride with an army of tourists ticking species off their lists and taking safari selfies. Zambia caters to a relaxed traveller, perhaps familiar with Africa, who isn’t in a rush but appreciates the wilfulness of nature and is surprised by her moods; sightings will be bountiful but never the same.

Many visitors to Zambia choose the circuit of Busanga Plains, South Luangwa and Lower Zambezi as a three-stop safari. The small-craft flights are long enough to give guests a proper idea of what the landscapes look like. When changing ‘planes in Lusaka on transfer days the contrast of wilderness and civilisation is stark, making the former taste even sweeter when re-entered.

If you are in awe of leopards, chances of seeing this spotted cat are highest in South Luangwa. The tree-rimmed river banks are prime territory for the elegant feline, and on a drive into the blinking morning sun eyes are firmly trained on the fig tree’s branches that invitingly bend to give the cats their preferred perches. This park is still relatively off the beaten tourist track and a gem for exploring on foot.

Ever since Norman Carr started his Zambian walking safaris in 1950, the country has established itself as a leader in providing this most thrilling and genuine bush experience. Where safari travel can often just drop us into a small oasis of luxury within the wilderness, Zambia does the original type of safari—in smaller, tented camps—best. When we crave the authenticity of vulnerability, standing on our feet in the middle of the animal kingdom is a different story to sitting in a Land Rover from morning to night. Walking safaris are part of what make journeys to Zambia special. One stops being a visitor and becomes part of the place. When standing with a bachelor herd of elephants or following animal prints across the Luangwa’s riverbeds, it’s not so much an accelerated heartbeat one feels, but a sense of calm, of enchanted serenity. With the country’s expertly trained guides, one feels not only perfectly safe, but also understands how a balanced relationship between humans and wildlife is rooted in respect.

When I first flew across the Zambezi Escarpment to the red-sanded foothills by the water and spotted massive crocodiles sunning themselves like tree-logs on the sandbanks, I thought I’d landed in my childhood adventure dream world. The Lower Zambezi is a repository of stories and lore and with the river’s sheer size provides expansion for our senses. We foreigners often speak of coming home to Africa. Maybe it’s an appropriation, maybe it’s the connectivity with the cradle of humanity. Most likely, it’s the melancholy of realising how far we’ve removed ourselves from nature’s kingdom in our urban landscape of the northern hemisphere, brought home when faced with the spectacle of this wide, slow-running stream and the stories it spins in its floods and along its shores.

Canoeing along the river provides a new perspective on how we can visit wild places leaving an even smaller footprint. Due to the vastness of the river, the hippos on the Lower Zambezi seem shy of human contact, running into the floods when a paddle strikes the water’s calm surface. Yellow-billed storks take off with slow, deliberate wingstrokes. Elephants shower their backs with trunks full of water and bee-eaters zigzag along the banks like coloured dots flicked from a painter’s brush.

Sitting by the shores of the Zambezi in the warm, lazy midday heat, dreams are allowed to take wing and time seems of no importance. Here, time is measured by sunrise and sunset, by dry season and rains. And for a short while, one is allowed to be away from safety and sensibility, at the mercy of a place where outside of the tent’s thin canvas and torch-lit path to the campfire, we’re but a happenstance.

Elephant dung is fermenting; and the many tracks in the sand along the Zambezi banks create great designs, but soon they will be gone in the dust and the heat. As the air currents roll towards Mozambique and the ocean, there’s a rustle, a screech, then nothing but the calm of the bush; a chirp, a call, and life as we know it has stopped and is turned into a new form, born witness by the elephants’ own memories.

Zambia’s conservation regions have remained wild and unspoilt. They cater for those who wish to enter the wild kingdom respectfully and quietly, conserving a sense of vulnerability and understanding the fragility...our own and also that of the wild. ■

BIOGRAPHY: IRENE AMIET

Irene is a UK-based photographer and freelance writer. Originally from Basel, Switzerland, Irene first came to Limpopo, South Africa, with a big cat density research expedition. Having fallen in love with the bush, she stayed on working in the safari industry. This background gave her a deep appreciation for conservation and its visions for local communities and resource management. Irene has travelled extensively in Southern Africa as a photographer. She often uses her images for fundraising in order to give back to the organisations working to keep Africa’s wildlife habitats diverse and wild. In the UK, Irene currently runs a fine art gallery and photography workshops with her husband. She has enjoyed writing for lifestyle magazines and newspapers in various countries, as well as running blogs on photography. www.ireneamiet.com