Another Kariba pic, taken around 40 years ago at Fothergill Island, while I was writing "Wild Places of Zimbabwe". I had it in mind to write an updated version this year, to mark this anniversary, but like many things this has been somewhat overshadowed by events. Nevertheless, one natural event does merit attention and interest: the present rapid rise of Lake Kariba due to massive rainfall in the upper Zambezi catchment and the resulting flood. It remains to be seen what this may mean for wildlife in the Matusadona shoreline area, which does display long-term cycles related to lake levels. In crude terms, low levels mean more exposed Panicum (torpedo grass) increases in grazers, and can cause corresponding increases in predators, notably lion; and the trend is reversed when the lake rises again.
As Kariba is managed solely for hydroelectric power generation, the effects of these fluctuations on wildlife and ecosystems aren't something that can be easily modified, even if it were desirable to do so, which is a moot point. However, the gradual ascendency of Park management for (and sometimes even by) tourism is a potential joker in the pack. Although not yet on the scale of Mana Pools, there has been a slow rise in the numbers of tourism concessions around the Matusadona, most of which depend primarily on wildlife sightings as the ultimate source of their income. Declines in visible wildlife on the Park shoreline, caused by rising lake levels, are unlikely to be welcome.
At this particular moment, however, crystal ball-gazing is a futile waste of time. We have no idea how, and in what shape, Zimbabwe's tourism industry - or indeed wildlife itself - will emerge from the coronavirus scenario. But I think one thing is reasonably certain: wildlife habitats themselves should survive relatively unscathed. Retain habitats, and a plan can be made. Lose them, and you lose everything.
It's forty years now, since I first visited the Matusadona National Park - and fell hopelessly in love with it. Since then I've spent countless days exploring the Park's magical little bays and inlets - mostly by boat, the last time only three weeks ago. We couldn't get very far up the Nyamuni River, in the Palm Bay area, because the lake level had fallen to its lowest for some years; but this is what the Nyamuni looks like, when the lake is high.
I think this, too, is the place were I also fell in love with the gifts that our wild places bring to us in the form of solitude, contemplation, and an appreciation of the elemental forces of nature. Old Matusadona hands will recognise the precarious little treehouse that once stood in the Nyamuni. Very early on, when I was a newcomer from suburban England, I spent a night alone in the treehouse. During the night, the Matusadona calm was shattered by a violent thunderstorm, with near-constant lightning, torrential rain, and raging winds. The tree-house trembled and shook, and so did I, an insignificant and solitary human being, totally humbled and cowering at the mercy of forces far beyond my control, or even understanding. It was a seminal, life-changing experience and, I think, set the conservation course I still try to follow today.
However, the irony doesn't escape me: that this was all sparked off by the beauty of a place that is in reality an artefact, created by a hydroelectric dam - in other words, by a massive human assault on nature. I couldn't explain this then, and I'm not sure I can now; but one day I'll give it a go!
Taken in 2011, on one of the very few ZIM4X4 trips on which we stayed in other operator's camps instead of setting up our own. This time, we were at Craig Chittenden's SunPath Safaris camp, in Mana Pools. It was memorable, not only for scenes like this, but for a lively night during which a lion pride killed no less than eight buffalo within the immediate vicinity of the camp - merely, we felt, "because they could."
It was in October - a time of year beloved by international visitors because of the "game viewing" opportunities it offers - but, if one reflects more deeply, a time when grazers, in particular, are hungry and heavily stressed, and the predators and scavengers have a field day. A few months previously, during the rains, this ground was covered with tall, dense grasses. Now, in October, virtually nothing is left; temperatures on this trip hit the high 40°'s; and many animals were so weak they could barely move. Go earlier in the year, or during the rains, and you'll see far fewer animals - but those you do see will be well-fed and in good condition.
Today, Craig is back with SunPath and combines a comfortable camp, reasonable prices, great food, and a philosophy that puts the emphasis on a true "wilderness experience". There aren't many like this, in a tourism marketing world that puts so-called "luxury" at the top of its priorities. The only other shining examples of this kind, in my own experience, are Stretch Ferreira Safaris in Mana and Rhino Safari Camp, at Elephant Point in the Matusadona.
Yep - another elephant-silhouetted-against-the-Zambezi pic... merely because I happen to like it.
Actually, there's a bit more to it than that. I spent the best part of 30 years, as founder-chairman and then director of The Zambezi Society, trying to help conserve both the Zambezi and its wildlife. And, for me, elephants are the ultimate conservation "flagship species". Without the elephant, that would merely be another not-very-interesting photo of an anonymous stretch of river. It's the elephant that gives it life.
For many of those years with The Zambezi Society, we were preoccupied with the battle to protect the Zambezi Valley's black rhinos from the horrendous poaching that effectively began in 1984. We initiated the Rhino Survival Campaign in 1985, and continued with rhino-related work until I retired in 2010.
Well - we lost that battle, and rhinos became locally extinct in the Valley. The poaching syndicates turned their attention to elephants, and by 2014 the Valley had also lost 40% of its elephant population.
The thought of a Zambezi Valley without elephants is, quite simply, unbearable - but not, I have to say, inconceivable. The onslaught on the Valley's rhinos had been swift, brutal, and devastatingly comprehensive, and aided by corruption and collusion on many levels. The current elephant poaching displays similar characteristics, and requires a determined and forceful response.
I'm delighted to say that The Zambezi Society, under its new leadership, is playing a major role in mounting such a response by acting as co-ordinators of the collaborative Zambezi Elephant Fund, set up by John and Nicci Stevens. The Elephant Fund is now having considerable success in helping to combat the elephant poaching, and deserves your support.
Meanwhile, for those who are tiring of silhouetted eles, see below for...
...a silhouetted buffalo instead. But it's also a very favourite photo, because it was taken on Fothergill Island, in 1979, and was the cover pic for "Wild Places of Zimbabwe", published in 1980. The book itself was an in-depth look at the state of seven major Zimbabwean national parks after several years of isolation during the liberation war, and the overall verdict was: pretty good, all things considered. Basically, the Parks Estate emerged from the war relatively unscathed, and without many of the problems it faces today, such as illegal settlement, severe poaching, or over-commercialisation. Unfortunately, Independence was followed almost immediately by wildlife massacres in several areas, and the proposal of schemes such as the Mupata Gorge hydroelectric dam, which would have effectively destroyed Mana Pools. The Mupata Gorge scheme catalysed the establishment of The Zambezi Society,which I chaired and directed until 2010.
The photo is - of course - a scanned transparency. John Stevens, then Warden of Matusadona National Park and now a Zimbabwean guiding icon and the founder of the Zambezi Elephant Fund, very generously spent many hours and days with me while I was researching "Wild Places"; and was with me when I took the photo.
Took this one in June 2009, thanks to Stretch Ferreira, who showed us where to find him. He's holed up in the thickets, somewhere on the Mana airfield road, and I've always liked the sort of "fortress" impression, barricaded among the stems together with the kill. Technically, it's a dog's breakfast, shot handheld at 1/20th sec, F5.0, ISO250, & needed a good deal of Photoshop panelbeating but as I've said, these are personal favourites, not photocomp entries!
Black rhino (Diceros bicornis); Mana Pools. I'm sure it's old hat for more experienced photographers, but I only just "discovered" how easy it is to scan my own slides and black-and-white negatives with my own SLR camera and table-top lash-up. I took this pic in ca.1980 and it lay, abandoned, in my archive until last week. It was taken (with a Canon FTb on Ektachrome 400, which was the only slide film I could get in Zimbabwe at the time) in the beautiful woodlands just west of Mcheni camp.
He's not dead; not tranquillised; just sleeping. I was on foot, and the FTb was not exactly a silent camera; I pressed the button with a good deal of apprehension, ready to make a rapid exit if required; but I needn't have worried. I took - just counted them - 19 exposures.
All of them - as I thought - failures. Set against that blindingly sunlit background, the rhino appeared as no more than a near-black silhouette. I ignored the footage as being unuseable - until now, 35 years later, the combination of a home-made scanner, Photoshop's shadow/highlight and other tools, and several hours of trial-and-error made it possible to produce this digital version.
It's very far from technical excellence, but to me it's the most poignant reminder yet of a time when Mana's rhinos could walk, eat and sleep in peace, before they were hounded, harried and hunted to extinction.
Here he is again, same general time and area. At that time, it was axiomatic that virtually any walk in Mana Pools would be punctuated by encounters with black rhino, and a precautionary - and occasionally urgent - search for a climbable tree.
This animal died not long afterwards - from anthrax, not poaching, which didn't hit Zimbabwe's rhino populations in a big way until 1984. Thereafter, and although the Parks Department put up a determined fight, it was weakened by a lack of resources and the resignation of many senior officers who were persecuted merely for trying to do their jobs. By the mid-1990's the rhino was locally extinct in the Zambezi Valley, the few survivors relocated into "Intensive Protection Zones" and onto private land elsewhere in Zimbabwe.
If we'd foreseen this, back in 1980, I'd have taken many more photos than I did. We didn't know how lucky we were...I have a few more, but not a tenth of what I'd like to have.
This really is a very old favourite - "Zambezi at Mana". I took it in September 1979, on my first-ever visit to Mana Pools, with the Ferrania viewfinder camera I'd brought with me from the UK. A print from this negative still hangs (or did, last time I looked) in the Mana Pools office.
The home-made "scanner" again. B/W negative, "invert" on Photoshop, tweak as required (nowhere near the richness in detail & tonal values achieved with an old-style enlarger and paper, but it's a start!)
The Park was closed at the time, the lodges in disrepair and the Nyamepi campsite barely discernible in the undergrowth. "Wild Places of Zimbabwe" was published in 1980 and I think that - unlike the ephemera I later wrote - it still has some interesting historical value.
Another moody shot, taken at Mana Pools on an early morning in February 2009, the Zambian escarpment shrouded in cloud after overnight rain. At that time a ranger's salary barely bought a loaf of bread and The Zambezi Society and others were making monthly deliveries of food to the Mana Pools headquarters.
And - again - not an animal to be seen. By this time, many mammals and most elephants have retreated to the Zambezi Valley hinterland, where they are growing fit and strong again after the rigours of the past dry season.
But it's the knowledge that they are out there, somewhere, and will be back again later in the year that is vitally important. Without this assurance, this'd be just another pretty picture. And the price of this knowledge is to support the efforts of Parks Authority field rangers and staff , through initiatives such as the Zambezi Elephant Fund and organisations such as The Zambezi Society, operating here and elsewhere in Zimbabwe's magnificent Parks Estate.
The Zambezi Valley isn't all blue skies and
hazy dry-season sunsets. As with people, to really know, understand and
appreciate a place, you've got to know and love its multitude of moods and
facets.The Valley and the river can be airy, lighthearted, pensive, sombre and
even darkly menacing and destructive on occasion. There are dry-season days
when howling winds bring a white-capped river and never-ending curtains of
dust; wet-season storms that cut a swathe through woodlands and bring down
bridges on the access roads. Here's a "dry" storm front that built
upstream and swept down past Mana Pools, on a December evening...
...a bright February morning, after overnight rain. And - an update - what would the Zambezi Valley be, without its elephants? There was a 75% decline in elephant numbers in the Valley south of Lake Kariba between 2001 and 2014 - from 14,000 to 3,500 - and a 40% decrease in the Middle Valley complex, from 18,000 to 11,500.
I just spent an amazing evening with some of the "leading lights" of the Zambezi Elephant Fund, including legendary Zimbabwe guide John Stevens and his wife, Nicci Stevens, who first conceived the Fund, and subsequently expanded it to become the most important collaborative initiative in recent conservation history. Today, the tide is turning against the poachers; but there's still a long haul ahead before the Zambezi Valley's elephants can be said to be truly secure.
John and Nicci are heading to the USA to take part in the Save the Elephants run in New York on November 17, a landmark event that will be mirrored here in Zimbabwe by a March for Elephants at the Mukuvisi Woodlands on the same day. Others, including notables such as Richard Branson, will be running alongside John in New York. We can't all go to New York, but we, here in Zimbabwe, can help ourselves by supporting the Mukuvisi Woodlands event. We'll hope to see you there!
...and, below, half past eight on a late April morning, with occasional drizzle as summer edges into autumn and winter.
Pauline Welch, herself a longstanding Mana aficionado, commented kindly on this blog and noted that she was "showing her teenager how, once, there were rhinos in Mana Pools." This reminded me that I hadn't as yet posted one of my very favourite photos from that era. Taken around 1980, it's a rhino I got to know very well. He lived in the area just west of today's Mcheni camps, and I'd follow him as he moved from the scrub, through the mahogany and albida woodlands, down to the Zambezi to drink. Then he'd meander back into the woodlands and fall fast asleep for the afternoon, before heading back to the hinterland for the night. This is a scanned transparency and - like many of my favourites - far from being technically brilliant. But the inherent symbolism of a rhino heading into the late afternoon sun is inescapable, in view of what subsequently happened to Mana's rhinos.
