Elephants at the front door

Zimbabwe | Anno 2014

 

Friday, July 11 | Johannesburg – Hwange National Park

Saturday, July 12 | Hwange National Park

Sunday, July 13 | Hwange National Park

 

 

Friday, July 11 | Johannesburg – Hwange National Park

Slowly, far below us, the barren, desert-like foothills of the Kalahari Basin give way to the desolate salt flats of Makgadikgadi in the northeast of Botswana. We left Johannesburg just over an hour ago. Now we're approaching Livingstone in Zambia.

But it’s not our destination we’re interested in, it’s the Victoria Falls. The view of that unique natural phenomenon, just before landing, is said to be spectacular. Full of anticipation, we settled in the empty seats on the left side of the plane right from the start. Because that’s the place to be for a great view of the falls, or so we are told. Almost no one sits where they are supposed to. The cabin crew lets it all happen. No doubt, they’re used to this hassle.

A long scar in the landscape from which water vapour rises like white smoke

Victoria Falls

Shortly after noon, the waterfalls slowly come into view. In all their grandeur, they appear perfectly framed, a long scar in the landscape from which water vapour rises like white smoke. Zigzagging through long, deep gorges, the foaming water continues its journey.

In about 100 000 years, this process will have created an entirely new gorge

Victoria Falls, Victoria Falls Bridge, and three gorges where the falls used to be

You can distinguish as many as eight such gorges, remnants of the falls' former locations. Over time, the waterfalls steadily move upstream, from one fault line to the next. Nothing can stop them. In about 100 000 years, this process will have created an entirely new gorge.

 

Victoria Falls

The clicking of our cameras seems endless. Remain seated and keep your seatbelts fastened, a flight attendant calls out desperately from the back of the plane. Her efforts are in vain.

 

Zambezi

The smoke that thunders

Under a clear, cloudless sky, we land at Harry Mwaanga Nkumbula International Airport, seatbelts now properly fastened. A lone thermometer reads 30 °C (86 °F). We obtain our visas for Zambia with relative ease. None of the clocks in the brand-new airport display the correct time. All the hands seem to be frozen at 12 o'clock.

Robert greets us with a wide grin. For fourteen days, this Zimbabwean will guide us through the border region around the quadripoint between Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, and Namibia – partly as a driver, partly as a guide. He’s brought a Toyota Coaster XJ with a luggage trailer for the suitcases.

Welcome to Zambia, he says, flashing his white teeth, as he quickly sets off toward Zimbabwe – driving on the left side of the road, of course. There’s no time to waste, as we have a nearly 300 km journey ahead of us and a cumbersome border crossing to tackle before reaching our destination, Hwange National Park in western Zimbabwe.

Strolling casually along the riverbank, like clueless tourists, rightly earns us a sharp reprimand. Crocodiles could easily snatch us there

Zambezi River

From the banks of the Zambezi, we can just make out the towering water mist rising above Victoria Falls in the distance. For now, that's all we'll see of the falls. Strolling casually along the riverbank, like clueless tourists, rightly earns us a sharp reprimand from Robert. Crocodiles could easily snatch us there, he argues.

 

Victoria Falls seen from Victoria Falls Bridge

The Zambian authorities don’t give us much trouble. Our passports are quickly stamped with exit visas. We cross the Zambezi via the Victoria Falls Bridge, marking the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. In the distance, we can still catch a glimpse of part of the falls.

Immigration in Zimbabwe, however, is a different story. Robert sternly reminds us not to take any photos of the border crossing, warning that our camera could be confiscated. The officials here seem to excel in nit picking – finding the smallest reasons to reject a form after long waits in line. A transparent attempt to squeeze some dollars out of us, it seems.

In the meantime, a complete stranger steals our bus

We are not deterred, we redo our homework and join a second time. In the meantime, a complete stranger steals our bus. He climbs on board, starts the engine and drives off. Only about ten meters, fortunately. Nothing to worry about, apparently the vehicle was in his way and he solved that problem.

One by one, the visas are carefully handwritten and stuck into our passports. We think we’re all set, but then an officer appears at the door of the bus, demanding to check our passports again. Fortunately, we pass that test with flying colours.

 

To Hwange

But after that, all restrictions are lifted. After almost an hour and a half, we finally leave the Zimbabwean border post behind. A smooth asphalt road will take us to Halfway House, over 200 km away. From there, we’ll switch to jeeps and travel 60 km south on an unpaved track to Bomani Tented Lodge in the Linkwasha Concession Area of Hwange National Park.

Robert, from behind the wheel, explains that the British once ruled this area. It was divided into Northern and Southern Rhodesia, both named after their founder, Cecil Rhodes. In 1964, Northern Rhodesia gained independence under Kenneth Kaunda, becoming the Republic of Zambia with relatively little turmoil.

In Southern Rhodesia, the white settlers, led by the infamous Ian Smith, dug in their heels

However, in Southern Rhodesia, the white settlers, led by the infamous Ian Smith, dug in their heels. It would take until 1980 before Southern Rhodesia became the independent Republic of Zimbabwe, where Robert Mugabe soon consolidated all power in his hands.

 

 

With an area of 390 757 km², Zimbabwe is ten percent larger than Germany. Yet, it has a population of only 13 million. Seventy percent of the population belongs to the Shona, Mugabe’s tribe; 25 % are Ndebele, and 5 % are white.

The name Zimbabwe means Great Houses of Stone, a reference to the ruins of an ancient fortress. English remains the official language, and it is used in education. However, it’s best not to speak English in the villages. Older generations do not appreciate it and prefer Shona or Ndebele.

It’s best not to speak English in the villages. Older generations do not appreciate it and prefer Shona or Ndebele

In fact, the Ndebele originally come from South Africa, where they are known as Zulus. According to a grinning Robert, who is Shona himself, they were driven out for pursuing too many local women. Joshua Nkomo, Mugabe's former main rival, was Ndebele.

 

Many trees are adorned with weaver nests

Meanwhile, the bus rolls leisurely through a gently undulating landscape dotted with medium-sized deciduous trees. The dry leaves remind us that it’s winter. Many trees are adorned with weaver nests, and small clusters of huts occasionally appear among the vegetation.

Continuing his story, Robert explains that the British initially promised various advantages to the Ndebele as part of their divide-and-conquer strategy. By providing food, water, and money, they aimed to persuade the Ndebele to join forces against the Shona.

However, these turned out to be empty promises, and eventually, the Shona and Ndebele united against the British. Not that this did much good – the indigenous people, armed only with bows and arrows, stood no chance against the British. Their leaders were hanged, but from their blood emerged the future independence fighters, Robert notes.

Mining and agriculture give Zimbabwe rich potential. From 1980 to 1990, the country was quite prosperous. However, the people grew discontented because the mines and farms – and thus the wealth – remained in the hands of whites.

Some white farmers owned up to twenty farms. Mugabe thought they could spare at least fifteen. If they wouldn’t relinquish them voluntarily, they would have to do so by force. Farms were taken over militarily, leaving only small farms in white hands.

In no time, the population saw its dollar drop to one trillionth of its original value

However, this did not benefit agricultural production. The country fell into an economic crisis. The Zimbabwean dollar, initially equal to the British pound, plummeted at an alarming rate. In no time, the population saw its dollar drop to one trillionth of its original value – one dollar became $0,000 000 000 001. There are even banknotes worth 100 trillion dollars. Nowadays, the American dollar is the standard currency, and we won’t be encountering its Zimbabwean counterpart.

 

 

The fact that it was now exclusively Mugabe’s loyalists who ran the large farms did not sit well with the population either. Nevertheless, the ninety-year-old Robert Mugabe continues to rule with an iron fist. In the past, Robert's mother idolized the rebel leader to such an extent that she named her son after him. Now, he views that as more of a curse than a blessing.

In the discreet setting of the bus, Robert clearly speaks his mind. But he reassures us that once we reach the camp, he will keep his lips tightly sealed. This is because there may be Mugabe loyalists around, and they could report him, leading to his imprisonment.

In the past, Robert's mother idolized the rebel leader to such an extent that she named her son after him

Until 1980, education was free, but those days are long gone. A school year consists of three terms of three months, each followed by a month of vacation. Parents pay $100 in school fees per month, making it difficult for many to send their children to school. The only things still free in Zimbabwe are the sun and the air, Robert laments.

However, Robert insists that Zimbabweans remain incredibly honest people. Even during the infamous years of 1999-2000, when food shortages prevailed, it was safe here. Theft was rare, and crime was minimal. Robert has a simple explanation for this: missionaries instilled values, social control is strong, and... the prisons in Zimbabwe are terrible.

 

Narrow galleries around the huts shield the fragile walls from the tropical rains

Meanwhile, picturesque huts belonging to the Nyumbia, the local tribe, glide past the window. The huts are often round, sometimes rectangular, with thatched roofs that extend about half a meter beyond the walls, creating a narrow gallery that shields the fragile walls from the tropical rains.

Typically, the huts are grouped around a small courtyard, providing shelter for a family. There is a hut where the parents sleep, one for the sons, and one for the daughters. The main hut serves as the kitchen, which is also where visitors are welcomed, where births take place, and where one goes when feeling ill or nearing death. This is because, in the kitchen, you are close to the ancestors.

A village usually consists of around a hundred such homesteads spaced out from one another. A village chief governs three to five such villages. Minor offenses, like the theft of a chicken, are settled by him. For more serious matters – such as murder – the police are expected to intervene.

With a hint of irritation, Robert points out the entrance to a large estate that has been claimed by a minister of Mugabe, who uses it to host guests for hunting wild game.

 

Raising awareness about tuberculosis and AIDS

Hwange – Coal mine

Suddenly, a strange scene unfolds near the mining town of Hwange. It resembles a roadblock, staffed by non-uniformed individuals. Robert stops and rustles some banknotes while reassuring us that it’s nothing more than a toll for passage – an additional income for these impoverished men.

The roadblock is nothing more than a toll for passage – an additional income for these impoverished men

The Chinese have taken control of the coal mine in Hwange. Zimbabwe is rich in resources, not only coal but also zinc, titanium, gold, and more. To exploit these resources, there’s a renewed approach to collaborating with the British.

Just four years ago, diamonds were discovered here, leading to the displacement of original landowners, who received worthless parcels in return. The site is now in the hands of powerful individuals in the capital, Harare.

As the sun sets behind the horizon, the full moon slowly rises in the east. We arrive at Halfway House in complete darkness, exactly halfway between Victoria Falls and Bulawayo. Robert estimates the temperature to be around 5 °C (41 °F), as we are at an elevation of 870 meters above sea level, approximately 18° south of the equator. This distance is roughly equal to that from the equator to Timbuktu or Khartoum.

A team from Bomani Tented Lodge awaits us, bringing two jeeps, plenty of sandwiches, and cold drinks. It’s a quick meal under the trees while our luggage is transferred, as the bus will remain here until Monday.

The remaining sixty kilometres will be travelled over sandy tracks in the jeeps. One jeep has an enclosed passenger area while the other does not. We are given blankets to help combat the chill of the wind in the open air.

Just before seven, the closed jeep departs. The open jeep waits a moment for the dust to settle before following. Why not let the open jeep lead? That way we wouldn’t have to deal with the dust, we suggest. Unfortunately, that’s not possible; all the luggage is on the roof of the closed jeep, and if something falls off, the open jeep needs to be ready to intervene.

High above our heads the Southern Cross points the way

The sandy track leads us straight south through the bush. High above our heads, the Southern Cross points the way. For the rest, the fabulous starry sky is largely outshone by the full moon. In its cool light, we can just make out the silhouettes of trees and bushes.

The bush lies quiet and peaceful. We enjoy the nighttime silence, broken only by the rumble of the engine, the rattling of the seats, the creaking of the springs, the clattering of the framework above our heads, and the thudding of the spare wheels.

Animals are scarce, but for a brief moment, a young elephant shyly crosses our path in the headlights. Soon after, an impressive herd of buffalo emerges from the darkness.

Not much later, the modest lights of Bomani Tented Lodge appear in the distance. After a chilly hour and three-quarters of travel, we finally arrive. We warm ourselves by the glow of the campfire outside, accompanied by a welcoming drink.

At exactly nine o'clock, we gather in the semi-open dining area for a meal. Over an excellent hot dinner, Ndawa welcomes us once again. We learn that electricity is available each evening until half-past eleven, after which a battery-operated lamp will provide light.

The lodge has no perimeter fence, as it wouldn't make a difference. Wild animals often wander between the huts, especially at night. Once darkness falls, we are strictly prohibited from venturing outside the hut without armed escort. Should we find ourselves in trouble during the night, we can signal for help with a whistle provided in each hut. For the other huts, this is the signal to turn off the lights, as otherwise, no one will know which hut needs assistance.

Ndawa pauses to meaningfully place his hand behind his ear. Listen, in the distance a lion roars, he then grins.

Every now and then, Ndawa pauses to meaningfully place his hand behind his ear. Listen, in the distance a lion roars, he then grins.

Ndawa also covers the legal aspects thoroughly. We are presented with a liability waiver to sign. Should an elephant ram our jeep or a lion decide to snack on us, it will be our own responsibility. Even theft is our liability, even though we can’t even lock our huts.

By half-past eleven, we retreat to our comfortable huts. The hot water is a bit lukewarm, and the lights go out too early, but the hot water bottles in bed make up for it.

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Saturday, July 12 | Hwange National Park

It must be quite a busy affair in the nocturnal bush, at least judging by the many unfamiliar sounds reaching our bed – besides the roaring of lions and the trumpeting of elephants. A herd of buffaloes searching for a new spot feels almost like a small earthquake.

A herd of buffaloes searching for a new spot feels almost like a small earthquake

At six o'clock, we are woken up. Bravely, we face the freezing cold, head to the washbasin, and resist the urge to return to the warmth of our still tepid hot-water bottle.

Right on time, our armed escort appears. Between the huts, lion tracks are visible. The claim that wild animals feel at home here was clearly no empty statement. In the east, Venus shines above the reddish morning glow. The morning star stands to the left of the rising sun, which takes some getting used to for us coming from the northern hemisphere.

 

Hwange – Bomani Tented Lodge

In the morning twilight, we finally get a sense of the surroundings we've landed in. The spacious Hornbill Tents are largely hidden under the leafy canopy of sturdy trees and overlook a waterhole. The bathroom block is made of stone. An extra roof on poles provides additional shelter from the rain. A spacious covered veranda invites you to peacefully enjoy the environment.

Breakfast takes place around the same campfire as the night before. Toast is prepared over the fire on a small grill. Jam is available in varying degrees of firmness. A kettle next to the fire contains a hot, whitish-grey mush described as oatmeal. Not everyone is keen on it.

Gradually, it becomes clear that the escort system to and from the tents isn't flawless – someone is missing from breakfast. The solitary soul is rescued from her tent at the last minute.

Wearing five layers of clothing, we board one of the two tiered jeeps and are given a blanket as well

Our first safari is about to begin. Wearing five layers of clothing, we board one of the two tiered jeeps and are given a blanket as well. Over the course of the morning, we'll peel off these layers one by one – ideally no further than the second layer. By the evening, we'll start layering up again.

 

Sibs

Park ranger

With Robert at the wheel of the jeep, we leave the lodge at 7:30. Next to him sits Sibahle, a cheeky fellow with a pale bandana, whom we conveniently call Sibs. Forty-year-old Sibs is Ndebele and has been working as a nature guide since 2000.

 

Hwange National Park – Waterbuck (m)

A few waterbucks stare at us as if they've never seen us before. In a large pool, around fifteen hippos are submerged. A bit further, we cross the raised embankment of the railway, which marks the boundary of the park.

The crown of the massive tree sways back and forth as if it were a windshield wiper

Elephant

Just after eight, we reach Ngamo Gate, the eastern entrance to Hwange National Park, a little over four kilometres from the lodge. Once again, we're presented with a document to sign. When we leave the park later, we’ll have to sign again.

 

The elephant approaches the jeep but completely ignores us and continues its way across the track

A strip of forest is completely destroyed. According to Sibs, elephants managed to do that in just two days. The strength of elephants is not to be underestimated. One is tugging at the branches of an acacia tree. The crown of the massive tree sways back and forth as if it were a windshield wiper. The elephant approaches the jeep but completely ignores us and continues its way across the track.

 

 

On a termite mound, a lilac-breasted roller shows off its colourful plumage – olive green on the crown and neck, lilac on the chest, brown on the back, and dark blue on the wings and lower back.

 

Lilac-breasted roller

Helmeted guineafowl

Bleached bones along the track turn out to be from a giraffe. With sharp cries, helmeted guineafowl scurry away on their short legs as we approach. The white spots on their bodies resemble pearls, and the blue, bony knob on their heads resembles a helmet, hence their name. They typically live in groups of around twenty-five individuals. They prefer to stay on the ground, although they can fly a little.

 

Elderly giraffe

In the distance, a giraffe is nibbling on a tree. Sibs notes that it's quite old, as its coat is very dark. He adds with a chuckle that he himself is older than we are, much older even, playfully referencing his own dark skin. Giraffes use their prominent white ears to communicate with each other, which isn’t difficult, as their long necks usually rise above the treetops.

Giraffes use their prominent white ears to communicate with each other

From a dead tree, a southern white-crowned shrike surveys its surroundings. In the grass sits a southern red-billed hornbill. Like all hornbills, it feels at home there, though it’s an excellent flyer.

 

Saddle-billed stock

Saddle-billed stocks (juveniles)

Further along, a saddle-billed stork is proudly showing off. It can grow up to 1,2 meters tall, and no stork is as colourfully dressed as this one. Its bright red beak is interrupted halfway by a black band, and right at the top, a bright yellow ‘saddle’ perches. And we haven’t even mentioned its striking red knees. The two juvenile saddle-billed storks on the other side of the track, however, still have to settle for shades of grey for now.

 

Family group of blue wildebeest

We come across a large group of blue wildebeest. It's a family group – females and calves under the watchful eye of a dominant male. Once the young males are 2,5 to 3 years old, the patriarch drives them out of the group to prevent any competition. This leads to the formation of bachelor groups of young males, where they build strength and compete among themselves. Once they feel strong enough, they separate from the group and mark out their own territory, typically in areas with plenty of food, as their new goal is to attract females and raise young. This behaviour is not only seen in wildebeest but also in impalas and other antelopes.

 

Blue wildebeest

In 1985, a powerful water pump was installed in the park, partly wind-powered and partly running on a diesel engine. Sibs calls it the heartbeat of the region, as without water, the animals wouldn’t survive here.

The bull is angry, frustrated, and dangerous. Perhaps a stronger bull has just driven him away from a female, or a female has refused his advances

Elephant bull in musth

In the distance, an elephant approaches. He recognizes the sound of the pump and knows fresh water is flowing into the waterhole. Sibs quickly realizes it's a bull in musth, a condition of elevated testosterone levels. His hind legs are wet – a sign that he’s leaking, which happens with elephants in musth. This period of heightened sexual activity can last up to three months.

The water pump is the heartbeat of the region, as without water, the animals wouldn’t survive here

The bull is angry, frustrated, and dangerous. Perhaps a stronger bull has just driven him away from a female, or a female has refused his advances. With elephants, the female’s reproductive organ is between the hind legs, so mating only happens with the female’s active cooperation. For wildebeest and antelopes, it’s much simpler. Even if a reluctant female tries to run away, the male can still merrily hop after her and mate.

 

Elephant in musth at waterhole

The bull drags the tip of his trunk across the surface of the water. Like all elephants, he's picky – he enjoys the water from the top layers but avoids the muddier stuff below.

Last year (2013) poachers poisoned a waterhole with cyanide, leading to the deaths of around a hundred elephants

Sibs explains that estimates of the total number of elephants in the park range from 22 000 to 45 000. Hwange National Park covers 14 500 square kilometres. In theory, that means we could encounter two to three elephants per square kilometre. This makes it one of the largest elephant populations in Africa, but it also brings risks. Poachers are becoming more ruthless in their hunt for ivory. This was tragically evident last year (2013), when they poisoned a waterhole with cyanide, leading to the deaths of around a hundred elephants.

 

Zebras

Zebras are grazing in the open plain. Here, they feel safe. A few white-backed vultures have found favourable thermals and are soaring in wide circles high above the bush. From their great height, they scan the area for carcasses.

 

Weaver nests on the western side of a tree

Impalas

Hanging from the branches of a tree are the distinctive nests of weavers. You’ll always find these nests on the western side of the tree, as the wind generally comes from the east, Sibs explains. You can set your compass by that.

 

Vervet monkey

Observing blue wildebeest

We see little more than the backsides of some grazing impalas. However, they do show us the graceful black ‘M’ on their rumps – walking advertisements for McDonald's. It’s a family group, with one male and his harem of about twelve females.

 

Bachelor group of wildebeest

A bachelor group of wildebeest has taken refuge in the shade of a large tree. They’re actually rather ugly creatures. When God created the animals, he had a leftover assortment of body parts at the end. So, he made the wildebeest from those, Sibs chuckles.

 

When God created the animals, he had a leftover assortment of body parts at the end. So, he made the wildebeest from those

Hippo

We are, of course, familiar with the Big Five – lion, elephant, buffalo, leopard, and rhinoceros. Their status comes not from being the most dangerous animals, but because they are the hardest to hunt on foot. But Sibs wants to know if we know the Ugly Five. We can only come up with the wildebeest and the warthog. Sibs adds hyena, marabou stork, and hippopotamus to the list. We think the last one doesn’t really belong there.

 

Grey crowned cranes

Two grey crowned cranes can be spotted in the grass. Their trademark is the beautiful golden feathers on their crowns. During courtship, they inflate their red throat sacs. Further along, a saddle-billed stork wanders through the grass. High in a dead tree, a African harrier-hawk surveys the surroundings. This omnivore isn’t shy about using its long legs to pull birds and small mammals out of their burrows.

 

Lilac-breasted roller

Southern yellow-billed hornbill

We leave the park behind and approach the hippo pool. The hippos are nowhere to be seen; they’re lounging among the bushes. They really need that during the middle of winter. However, our sudden presence startles them. A small stampede of hippos erupts as they nearly tumble over each other to be the first to dive into the pool.

 

A small stampede of hippos erupts as they nearly tumble over each other to be the first to dive into the pool

Just after one o'clock, we are welcomed back at the lodge with pizza, lasagna, and warm pie. Less than an hour and a half later, we’re back on the road. Meanwhile, it seems the hippos have discovered the best of both worlds – safely submerged in the water while maximizing their sun exposure with their gleaming backs.

 

‘Right-handed’ elephant

Normally, it rains until March, Sibs explains. This year, the rains didn’t stop until May. That’s why it’s not as dry now as in other years. This surprises us, as we can’t imagine this country being much drier than it is now.

An elephant crosses the track just in front of our jeep. The giant is about 35 years old, with five more years to go before he reaches the peak of his growth. His left tusk is noticeably longer than his right tusk. That’s what happens when you always use your right tusk to forage – that tusk gets worn down. Left-tuskness also occurs, by the way.

 

His left tusk is noticeably longer than his right tusk. That’s what happens when you always use your right tusk to forage

There’s no better place to observe elephants than the underground observation pit that has been dug at the edge of a waterhole. We descend into the metal container space, complete with viewing holes and… an integrated toilet. Elephants frequently come here to drink, and from this vantage point, you can see them life-size from a frog’s perspective.

 

Right before our eyes the elephant is drinking from the cool water

 

Take, for example, the elephant shuffling in the distance among the bushes. Sibs knows that this elephant is heading toward our waterhole. Unfortunately, the elephant itself is unaware of this, as twenty minutes later, it hasn't moved a meter closer to us. Then, suddenly, a large bull appears on the other side. Without hesitation, he makes his way to our waterhole, drinking from the cool water right before our eyes.

 

 

On a thick branch in the shade of an acacia’s foliage sits a Verreaux's eagle-owl, the largest owl in Africa and the third largest in the world. It can grow to over 60 cm tall, with a wingspan of up to 140 cm and a weight of up to 2 kg. Large birds and small mammals are on its menu, which it catches by unexpectedly swooping down from high in a tree. Even the local population is afraid of it, Sibs informs us.

The same cannot be said for the pearl-spotted owlet, which clings almost invisibly to the trunk of a broken tree a bit further away. It grows to a maximum of 20 cm. With its yellow eyes, it stares at us from a distance. However, it also shows us the back of its head, which has two black eye spots. These false eyes are meant to mislead potential predators.

These false eyes on its back are meant to mislead potential predators

Pearl-spotted owlet…

…with false eyes on the back of its head

It’s now half-past five, and there’s still no sign of lions. But Sibs won’t give up. We won't stop for baboons anymore, he warns us as he takes a path through dense undergrowth. After all, we are looking for lions, not baboons. Yet they remain elusive, even as the thick vegetation gives way to a stretch of savanna. However, a beautiful lilac-breasted roller makes another appearance.

 

Kori bustard

Baboons

Shortly after five, Sibs stops for… baboons. Just a few minutes later, the two jeeps meet in an open grassy area by the edge of a large watering hole. As modest as breakfast was, evening tea is quite generous – soft drinks, beer, red and white wine, gin, vodka, and chicken drumsticks... As the sun gently sinks into a golden glow above the watering hole, we happily indulge in this idyllic bacchanal.

 

Sunset

Three-quarters of an hour later, we detach ourselves from the scene. The hippos have retreated into their pool. In the rosy evening twilight, their dark backs are just visible above the silver ripples of the water.

 

Buffaloes at full moon

Around a hundred buffaloes are peacefully grazing near the camp. Above them, the majestic full moon begins its nightly journey across the sky. Barely perceptible in the far background, a solitary elephant wanders.

We come face to face with the silhouettes of about fifteen elephants hurrying toward the watering hole between the huts

As the day gradually comes to an end, the eternal chronicle of eating and being eaten continues unabated in the bush. But the best is yet to come, it seems. At half-past ten, a growing dull sound catches our attention. We cautiously open the door of the hut and come face to face with the silhouettes of about fifteen elephants hurrying toward the watering hole between the huts. Our presence does not disturb them in the slightest. Why would it? This is their land; we are the intruders and should keep our distance. Calmly, they drink from the cool water under the light of the full moon.

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Sunday, July 13 | Hwange National Park

Bundled up warmly, we set off in three half-open safari jeeps. The early sun casts a warm glow over the savanna grass. Tormented tree stumps bear witness to the havoc elephants can wreak, giving the landscape a somewhat eerie quality.

A secretarybird struts confidently through the grass, named for the long black feathers on its head that were once used by clerks. Birds, snakes, and even small mammals are not safe from its grasp. It swallows snakes whole and simply crushes other animals underfoot.

 

Buffaloes, helmeted guineafowl

But it’s still lions that Sibs is searching for. With binoculars in hand, he scans the savanna, but nothing betrays the presence of a lion. For now, we have to make do with two southern yellow-billed hornbills perched on a branch. Sibs jokingly calls them flying bananas because of their large orange-yellow beaks. Like all hornbills, they primarily forage on the ground for fruits, seeds, small insects, spiders, and scorpions. In the dry season, they particularly target ants and termites.

Sibs jokingly calls them flying bananas because of their large orange-yellow beaks

Southern yellow-billed hornbill

Vultures

A handful of vultures in a tall, bare tree catches Sibs' attention. Have they spotted lions with a recent kill and are waiting for their turn? Or are they simply recovering from a gluttonous feast?

 

Helmeted guinea fowl running away

Black-backed jackal

A black-backed jackal ambles leisurely across the savanna, settles down on a little hill, and poses for photographs in the morning sun.

 

Black-backed jackal

Further along, a few kori bustards are pecking at the grass, eating almost anything in their path – insects, scorpions, lizards, grass, seeds, eggs, and even small rodents. The ground is their favourite habitat; they only fly when absolutely necessary. Weighing up to 20 kg, the kori bustard is the heaviest bird capable of flight, even heavier than the albatross.

 

Lilac-breasted roller

Kori bustards

In his quest for lions, Sibs dives back into the bushes, but once again, it yields no results. Returning to open terrain, we encounter a group of chacma baboons. They primarily live on the ground in groups of ten or more. Their diet is varied, including grass, tubers, fruits, seeds, grasshoppers, scorpions, and lizards. Even hares and young antelopes aren’t safe when they hunt together.

 

Chacma baboons

By half-past eight, we reach the Wexcau waterhole. This waterhole is replenished daily with fresh water. Sibs grabs his rifle and accompanies us at the pump. A diesel motor draws clear groundwater from a depth of 45 meters at a rate of 20 to 100 cubic meters per day. It’s loud, but it’s vital for the animals during dry spells. Sibs notes that diesel pumps still outperform eco-friendly systems; the central windmill can only manage 20 to 30 cubic meters a day, while solar panels can only achieve 10 to 15 cubic meters.

About half an hour later, we leave the site. We will later learn that park rangers spotted lions at this waterhole just fifteen minutes before our arrival.

A red-crested korhaan flies about ten meters straight up, folds his wings, and then plummets back down like a stone

Suddenly, a bird rockets out of the bushes, shooting upwards like a rocket. It’s a courtship display of the red-crested korhaan, Sibs explains. The male flies about ten meters straight up, folds his wings, and then plummets back down like a stone. If all goes according to plan, a female will come to check on him, worried about his well-being. Gotcha, the male then thinks.

Two black-backed jackals are lingering nearby each other, which is unusual, according to Sibs. They are typically territorial and don’t tolerate one another’s presence. However, this is a male and a female, and they seem interested in each other. When a prey animal has been killed, they may set aside their territorial sensitivities and gather together to feast.

 

 

Still on the lookout for lions, our attention is once again drawn to vultures soaring high above our heads. However, the vultures aren’t after a carcass they’ve spotted; they’re simply using the morning thermals to gain altitude. Two jackals misinterpret the vultures’ behaviour, and like us, they slink away a bit frustrated.

Once again, Sibs dives into the bushes, where about fifteen elephants are feasting on the trees. Another trail of destruction is underway.

With no luck in spotting lions, Sibs switches to Plan B – telling us about lions instead

With no luck in spotting lions, Sibs switches to Plan B – telling us about lions instead. Within a family group, the weakest lion is often the best hunter. This is because when a prey is taken down, it’s the strong males that eat first. Only after they are sated do the females get their turn, with the strongest females eating first. This leaves the weakest lioness often hungry, making her the most motivated to bring down a new prey. However, solitary males and bachelor groups are also formidable hunters.

 

Impalas

Little bee-eater

On a low branch above the ground, a little bee-eater is showing off its stunning colours – green plumage, a yellow throat, and a black eye stripe. It’s the smallest of the bee-eaters, but it takes its name seriously – bees and wasps are its favourite food. With a swift motion, it dispatches the stingers by repeatedly banging the insect against a hard surface.

With a swift motion, the little bee-eater dispatches the stinger of a bee by repeatedly banging the insect against a hard surface

We leave the park behind, and Sibs explores the area east of the railway line but finds little more than a couple of common warthogs with their piglets.

Shortly after eleven, we arrive at camp. Before we’ve even stepped out of the jeep, we’re asked how we want our eggs to be cooked. Barely twenty minutes later, we enjoy the excellent result – eggs, quiche, beans in tomato sauce, meat, toast. It’s already half past twelve when the third jeep arrives, delayed due to a breakdown. The fuel tank turned out to be empty just minutes after departure, despite the fuel gauge insisting it was full.

Just before three, we set out on our final Hwange safari. Sibs has taken intern Brindon under his wing, and spotting lions has become an obsession for him. The three jeeps scatter immediately to track down lions. No sooner than half an hour later, we receive a report via walkie-talkie that one of the jeeps has spotted a lioness. Sibs promptly turns the vehicle around and accelerates full speed over the bumpy sand tracks to the scene. It takes only four minutes to reach the location, but by then, the lioness has already vanished, her silhouette disappearing like a light brown dot among the bushes.

 

Spotting lions has become an obsession

Without hesitation, Sibs drives after the lioness, even leaving the main track. In this no man's land, it’s permissible, he reassures us. We're only a few dozen meters from the park's boundary, but that fence doesn't hinder the lioness in her movements. She has long ventured outside the park. This adds a new dimension to our search, as the lioness now poses a potential threat to the local community and livestock.

 

The lioness now poses a potential threat to the local community and livestock

Little do we know that this very border between the park and public land will become the scene of an incident that will make headlines worldwide the following year. Here, just outside the park, American dentist Walter Palmer will kill a thirteen-year-old male lion named Cecil with a bow and arrow for recreation, taking his head as a trophy, thus inciting outrage among a significant portion of the global population.

Meanwhile, Sibs contacts Musa, a nature guide from Camelthorn Lodge just outside the park, via walkie-talkie. Musa quickly hops into his Land Cruiser and sets off in pursuit of the lioness. It isn’t long before he spots her, as we learn through the walkie-talkie. Just for a moment, she appears before disappearing back into the bushes. Musa revs his engine in an attempt to drive her back into the park, and we can even hear the roar of his motor in the distance. However, the lioness seems unimpressed.

Driving through the gate to the other side of the fence would take us ten minutes, which would be far too long. But Sibs has a plan. Musa is summoned to the fence, and we crawl underneath to settle ourselves in the open passenger area of Musa's Land Cruiser. It doesn't take long before we also catch a glimpse of the lioness in the bushes. More specifically, her ears that move every now and then and thus attract our attention.

 

Chacma baboons at waterhole

Musa ventures a detour to get a better view. The lioness also moves a little, but she doesn't seem agitated. Her motionless silhouette is clearly visible in the coolness of the underbrush. However, as the second jeep approaches, she decisively slips away without leaving a trace.

When it catches a prey or finds a carcass, it always devours the eyes first, considering them a delicacy

Bateleur in flight…

…and at rest

We'll have to settle for observing other animals. For instance, a young bateleur sits perched in a dead tree. With its resemblance to an eagle, it primarily feeds as a scavenger but also enjoys hunting small vertebrates and insects. When it catches a prey or finds a carcass, it always devours the eyes first, considering them a delicacy, as Sibs explains.

 

Giraffes

Our spirits lift when we spot four giraffes. They stand tense, gazing westward as if sensing impending danger. When a handful of warthogs comes running from that direction in a panic, the giraffes quickly take off as well. But it turns out to be a false alarm; there are no signs of a lion anywhere.

 

Wildebeest at waterhole

The elephants also do not appear at the waterhole where Sibs had predicted. At the next waterhole Sibs and Brindon get out the cool boxes. Our evening tea is on the way. How quickly we have become accustomed to that. Spicy cheese croquettes have taken the place of bitterballen.

 

The reflection of the reddish glow creates a mirror of gold over the black water

Meanwhile, the sun is setting enchantingly in the west over the pool. The reflection of the reddish glow creates a mirror of gold over the black water. On the other side, half a dozen zebras come to quench their thirst. They are hardly visible in the evening twilight, but their inverted silhouettes are sharply outlined against the golden water's surface.

 

Zebras at waterhole

For the last time, we cross the railway line that separates the park from the outside world. The railway line is perfectly straight, the third longest straight stretch in the world – only Australia and South Africa do it better in this regard. Sibs wants us to fully enjoy this. He stops in the middle of the tracks and grins widely as he turns off the engine. Just for a moment.

They are a bit earlier tonight, the elephants. Around half past seven, they come between the huts. With much noise, they take their evening bath in the waterhole in front of our huts.

Are the armed escorts really supposed to shoot animals?

What exactly is the task of the armed escorts who accompany us to our hut, we want to hear from Sibs when we say goodbye. Are they really supposed to shoot animals? Actually, yes, is the honest answer. In his rifle, he has three bullets, and in the cartridge belt around his waist, he has about ten more. If a dangerous animal shows up, he will make noise in an attempt to scare it away. If that doesn’t work, he will shoot to kill. He admits that in 90 % of cases, shooting in the air would suffice. But it’s that one case in ten that forces him to take the certain over the uncertain.

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Jaak Palmans
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