Its the wet season in the Congo where I am currently stationed.The days are hot, humid and steamy.We have just had a 30 minute tropical, torrential downpour. The rain has stopped and its back to square one. Drenching sweat instead of rain now cools the body.
This morning, last rites were paid to the ranger shot dead on patrol on Tuesday afternoon. The company flag flies at half mast and the camp is silent. Tomorrow Kurt and I will go out into the " domain" and gather what evidence there is at the scene and compile a murder docket. Yes, there are no police here or anywhere in the country outside the main centres to document the circumstances of his death and mount an investigation to bring the culprits to book. To them,and many millions of others in the dark soul of Africa, it's just another statistic to be washed away and forgotten where hundreds die daily without a whisper
The first information reaching the base at 20h00 on Tue 8 Aug, was that an ICCN patrol in the Garamba was ambushed by poachers whilst in hot pursuit. The patrol had an initial success when they surprised intruders in the two meter high savannah which covers 90% of the park The initiative lay with the patrol. Shots were fired and the poachers fled dropping bundles containing what later turned out to be sawn off chunks of ivory taken presumably from an elephant into the " Domain de Chasse". Best explained, the area around the park populated by locals into which the elephant stray in search of fodder.
Cock a hoop with their success, the patrol blundered on into the only clump of forest in the vicinity.There the trap was sprung. In a blaze of AK fire, the tables were turned. The rangers dropped their prize, including a machine gun, turned and fled. The rangers left in their wake one dead and one wounded, who was shot through the lower parts of his legs.The unfortunate victim had taken a bullet in his back which exited through his throat. But that was only determined later for the remaining six rangers bolted to their base and promptly went to sleep without posting any guards or making defensive arrangements!
The terrified radio operator who had fled to parts better known to himself, sent in the initial report
That was the state that Kurt found them on his arrival in the vicinity at 01h00 on Wednesday morning. You don't have to tell a Flemish speaking ex Belgian paratrooper what to do next. He recovered the body on indications, rescued the abandoned wounded man, recovered a discarded machine gun, but not the ivory or a high frequency radio with all our channels now in the hands of the poachers , who by all indications, had fled north towards the Sudanese border.
On Kurt's return to base the next day on a ferry over the flooded Dungu river, the funeral cortège was accompanied by wailing men, women and children on its way to the village in which he had lived.
Life in the Congo,death rites, debilitating rangers, lack of resources etc prevented an immediate follow-up, hence the reason for tomorrow' s mission to gather in what evidence remains, and then maybe oneday, with a properly documented record and a highly unlikely arrest, justice can then be done.
On a brighter note, the day proceeding this unfortunate incident, I was in the skies once again being given a conducted aerial recee of the park and its limited resources.
Taking away the devastation of the once highly organized camps, elephant training centres etc visited by thousands, my breath was taken away by the pure majesty that nature had carved in this garden of Eden. Savannah clad undulating country revealed a kaleidoscope of lush green grass, riverine forest and sparkling blue streams, swamps and rivers. Over 400 water courses in all There were herds of buffalo below, Congolese giraffe, prides of lions, pockets of elephants (badly depleted), hippos galore and, and, and. But no sign of the threatened northern white rhino which is the principal reason why we are here.Poachers camps were evident everywhere and I yearned to find one occupied Here a different type of process would have been brought into the equation.
We landed at two ranger camps , and on an instinct, I searched one.The body language was wrong. Need I Tell you what we found? Anyway, the first proven disciplinary action against rangers and " support soldiers" -nothing more than brigands and scum from the many warlords armies which abound who have been added to the equation to " protect" the animals, has now been brought to the attention of the administrators and being vigorously pursued.
The camp itself ; much like those of you who know the Matabeleland village of Nkai. Sprawling, a lot better shaded, on the banks of a river (altho the Shangani river was some distance away at Nkai), a lion cub running around, rescued from a poacher,a young baboon and vervet monkey playing merrily together. And yet another monkey riding on the back of a goat!
And the birdlife????? Throw away all your sightings until you have seen what the Congo offers. Earlier, I sent out a pic of a paradise sunbird to those who really love their birds.
Oh! - I can hear the roars of a lion close by. The night calls
Never in my life have I heard such a melody of tryogodolite sound as I begin to succumb to the stars which shine so brightly above.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Garamba murder ; Examination of the Scene
Well, I had my first taste of the Garamba park proper when I went out yesterday to follow up the murder and attempted murder of two Garamba rangers from the Advance Base on the afternoon of Tuesday 8th August 2006.
To say that patrolling is extreme, in an understatement.The virtually treeless plateau is dominated by grass over two meters high where a man or animal can easily conceal itself not a meter from you without you knowing it. You follow the man in front by the sound of rustling of grass.He can easily slip away unnoticed.I found this out on several occasions after crossing streams and swamps in chest deep water. On reaching the opposite bank, one plunges into a morass of emerald green foliage tearing at you arms, hoping to locate an elephant or hippo trail taking you in the general direction in which you are headed. I can think of better things to do on a Saturday!
But that is not the gist of the report. The idea was to do a scenes check at point of the crime and to do this successfully, I had to construct the sequence of events, look for clues and compile a dossier.
Kurt, three Garamba rangers and I crossed the Dungu River on a raft made of planks and forty four gallon drums and clambered into a Unimog on the opposite bank to travel to the Advance Base. Forty six kilometers and three and a half hours later traveling across the only " road" leading to the camp,( you can imagine what state it was in) we arrived to find six rangers from the ill fated seven man patrol, huddled together in one hut.
After explaining our mission, two rangers loudly protested they weren't coming. They pointed to gouge marks on their knees sustained when crawling over the hard ground from the scene of the ambush and said that they couldn't walk.
Kurt changed their ideas and after the patrol was suitably attired, we ploughed our way overland to the scene of the murder approx 6 kilometers south east of the Advance Base camp.On our arrival, and after taking GPS readings, sketching and photographing the scene, the full story emerged.
On Monday 7th August 2006, during a routine patrol, the rangers picked up human tracks in the vicinity of their camp and followed them south but to no avail.
On Tuesday 8th August 2006, they again set out on patrol and came across a poachers camp and ashes of a fire. They cast around and found the carcass of a buffalo from which they deduced the flesh had been smoked at this camp.
The continued with their patrol pattern when at about 12 noon, they heard eight shots emanating from the south. They walked a further 2 kilometers and surprised a group of poachers sitting on a beach in a shallow valley next to a river.A contact ensued during which the poachers fled, leaving behind an AK rifle, seven bundles of ivory tusks each containing three to four sticks and other paraphernalia.
The rangers took possession of the ivory and other abandoned kit and walked 2 kilometers north to the only tree in the vicinity on a crest line. They decided to rest and examine their booty. No guards were posted. It appears that the poachers regrouped and mounted a follow-up - or a detached section from the group in another sector, sneaked up through the grass catching the rangers unawares.
The tall grass surrounding their position was subjected to a burst of gun fire (they certainly weren't plainly visible) resulting in the death of one and the wounding of another. Dropping their machine gun (recovered later), a Motorola radio ,captured ivory and other equipment seized earlier, they rapidly evacuated the area and returned individually to base where they went to sleep ( no guards again!) and in which state they were found at 01h00 on Wednesday 9th August. One had the sense to pedal his bicycle down the road to get within range of the relay station from where the report was received at Nagero over the other remaining radio.
Our investigation resulted in the discovery of two torch batteries left behind at the scene of the murder (earlier taken from the poachers), scraps of cigarette papers at the " buffalo poaching camp", also a cracked open buffalo bone, and seven expended cartridge cases (calibre uncertain, but not AK cartridges, but suspected of having come from the Sudan by a Congolese army int. authority stationed with me) at the " river beach camp" where the initial contact took place on 8th Aug. All these have been retained and filed with the docket.
Dr's report on cause of death and what he observed will be recorded and filed with witnesses statements
Then altered by the presence of scores of vultures in the sky, the carcass of a dead elephant (sex not determined) in a rear kneeling position indicating that it was running when it was shot, was discovered not 1 km away further to the south. The tusks and tail had been removed.From where the other tusks originated and reportedly seen by the rangers, there is no indication. Photo's of the dead elephant have been retained for the docket.
Ends.
To say that patrolling is extreme, in an understatement.The virtually treeless plateau is dominated by grass over two meters high where a man or animal can easily conceal itself not a meter from you without you knowing it. You follow the man in front by the sound of rustling of grass.He can easily slip away unnoticed.I found this out on several occasions after crossing streams and swamps in chest deep water. On reaching the opposite bank, one plunges into a morass of emerald green foliage tearing at you arms, hoping to locate an elephant or hippo trail taking you in the general direction in which you are headed. I can think of better things to do on a Saturday!
But that is not the gist of the report. The idea was to do a scenes check at point of the crime and to do this successfully, I had to construct the sequence of events, look for clues and compile a dossier.
Kurt, three Garamba rangers and I crossed the Dungu River on a raft made of planks and forty four gallon drums and clambered into a Unimog on the opposite bank to travel to the Advance Base. Forty six kilometers and three and a half hours later traveling across the only " road" leading to the camp,( you can imagine what state it was in) we arrived to find six rangers from the ill fated seven man patrol, huddled together in one hut.
After explaining our mission, two rangers loudly protested they weren't coming. They pointed to gouge marks on their knees sustained when crawling over the hard ground from the scene of the ambush and said that they couldn't walk.
Kurt changed their ideas and after the patrol was suitably attired, we ploughed our way overland to the scene of the murder approx 6 kilometers south east of the Advance Base camp.On our arrival, and after taking GPS readings, sketching and photographing the scene, the full story emerged.
On Monday 7th August 2006, during a routine patrol, the rangers picked up human tracks in the vicinity of their camp and followed them south but to no avail.
On Tuesday 8th August 2006, they again set out on patrol and came across a poachers camp and ashes of a fire. They cast around and found the carcass of a buffalo from which they deduced the flesh had been smoked at this camp.
The continued with their patrol pattern when at about 12 noon, they heard eight shots emanating from the south. They walked a further 2 kilometers and surprised a group of poachers sitting on a beach in a shallow valley next to a river.A contact ensued during which the poachers fled, leaving behind an AK rifle, seven bundles of ivory tusks each containing three to four sticks and other paraphernalia.
The rangers took possession of the ivory and other abandoned kit and walked 2 kilometers north to the only tree in the vicinity on a crest line. They decided to rest and examine their booty. No guards were posted. It appears that the poachers regrouped and mounted a follow-up - or a detached section from the group in another sector, sneaked up through the grass catching the rangers unawares.
The tall grass surrounding their position was subjected to a burst of gun fire (they certainly weren't plainly visible) resulting in the death of one and the wounding of another. Dropping their machine gun (recovered later), a Motorola radio ,captured ivory and other equipment seized earlier, they rapidly evacuated the area and returned individually to base where they went to sleep ( no guards again!) and in which state they were found at 01h00 on Wednesday 9th August. One had the sense to pedal his bicycle down the road to get within range of the relay station from where the report was received at Nagero over the other remaining radio.
Our investigation resulted in the discovery of two torch batteries left behind at the scene of the murder (earlier taken from the poachers), scraps of cigarette papers at the " buffalo poaching camp", also a cracked open buffalo bone, and seven expended cartridge cases (calibre uncertain, but not AK cartridges, but suspected of having come from the Sudan by a Congolese army int. authority stationed with me) at the " river beach camp" where the initial contact took place on 8th Aug. All these have been retained and filed with the docket.
Dr's report on cause of death and what he observed will be recorded and filed with witnesses statements
Then altered by the presence of scores of vultures in the sky, the carcass of a dead elephant (sex not determined) in a rear kneeling position indicating that it was running when it was shot, was discovered not 1 km away further to the south. The tusks and tail had been removed.From where the other tusks originated and reportedly seen by the rangers, there is no indication. Photo's of the dead elephant have been retained for the docket.
Ends.
A Congo Diary
Apologies for lack of comms but where I have landed near the Sudanese border, is in a dark corner of Africa.The Garamba park where I will be based for two months, is remote, extreme and totally reliant on it own shaky infrastructure. Staffed by Portuguese,Belgian, Congolese, French, and Swiss nationals to mention but a few, the Garamba Park Democratic Republic of the Congo, (DRC) is one of many of the fast disappearing wild life sanctuaries in Africa. To make it worse, its guards who are designed to preserve the ecology, are its biggest culprits it would seem. Avarice, greed,corruption, ill disciplined and openly mutinous, there is a large mountain to climb before any sort of sanity can prevail. But more of that later.
I arrived in Kingali (Rwanda) Wednesday last and was driven through the mountainous passes to the Rwanda/Congo border a few minutes away from the lava ravaged town of Gomo on the shores of lake Kivu. A pleasant interlude at the Kivu Sun right on the beach was followed by the usual intimidation of " so called" scruffily dressed, secret police inside the Congo who wanted to know what was in the vehicle? We are whites you see (!)and anything which they consider would be worthwhile having, is normally handed over to them by fearful " tourists" who want to avoid a confrontation. Well, we didn't fit into that category.Having earlier withstood their banging at the sides of the pick-up, I forcibly brushed my way past one of those leaches from the passenger door en route to customs. The intimidatory tactics ended and we sailed through.
I bedded down for the night at a Lakeside Hotel called the " VIP Palace " - anything but, but a cold beer soon takes away the overall lack of service, confusion and lack of running water. It was to be my home for the next 3 nights for forthcoming days spent in Gomo, which were taken up with admin and log. Huge thunderstorms assaulted the town every afternoon and evening but life continued through the streets which had become muddy swamps and rivulets gushing their way through the rockhard, tyre ripping, fields of lava from the last eruption in 2002.
I suppose my adventure really commenced on Saturday afternoon when in the company of others, we took off in a Cessna 206 in the gathering gloom heading north to Ishango on the western shore of Lake Edward where I had been based earlier this year.I had to leave three quarters of my kit behind due to lack of space with the promise it would be restored to me he next day - its Tuesday now and I am still waiting!
The flight over the volcanoes and lake Edward was an experience not to be missed. One of the volcanoes is still bubbling and molten lava inside the crater is clearly visible from above.
We arrived at Ishango at sunset with my heart in my throat. The Ugandan pilot had misjudged the length of the runway and a cross wind. Running out of airstrip, he had to gun the plane at full throttle to gain height and make another attempt at landing. I was mindful of my earlier flight in an Antonov which was flapping itself through the sky when I was last up there in February (see earlier Congo report) and thought of the other 64 aircraft that crashed last year and another 3 in March this year, when I stepped out of the cabin!
Ishango was different from when I was there last. All tents were now lit up, the kitchen was cleaner and several buildings had had running repairs carried out on them.
The hippos and crocs together with the forest hog, had gone from our front doorstep (I am told they had moved to greener pastures) whilst our kitchen staff had all been replaced. Training which had been undertaken there for the last two months by two French instructors had come to an end. The troops, both old and new, were now awaiting for upliftment to go " operational" in the Garamba.
A pleasant evening was spent in the gazebo overlooking the Semliki River and at 10h00 the next day (Sunday) we were airborne once again in the Cessna bound for a two hour flight to Nagero, the headquarters of the Garamba park.To describe the country we flew over, was something out of a Jules Verne novel. Clouds pregnant with rain scudded below, I had glimpses of creeper, canopy clad, green tropical forests spreading to the horizon as far as the eye could see in all directions. Intermittent brown torrents coiled their way through the foliage to join the Congo river far to the south. Several bald rocky mountain peaks broke through the carpet around which we weaved our way, until 20 minutes before landing, we ploughed into a tropical deluge. My thoughts were once again on earlier casualties. Suffice to say, we aquaplaned onto the torrent of mud and clay which was the Nagero airstrip and another " not to be forgotten" flight had come to an end!
So here I was! Fifteen years earlier I had been earmarked to come to this desperate place to undertake a mission but it never happened. Now it was all for real.As we drove our way into camp through the pouring rain, I was once again reminded of what once had been a viable colonial driven operation in Africa. Buildings which once housed tourists, were now in ruin. Sagging eaves, squatters (families of the rangers!) unpainted and moss covered buildings ; generally accompanied by the total neglect of a place run by post independent Africa. A large storeroom contained skulls of hippos, elephants, rhino, Congo giraffe skins, crocodile heads etc while 3 tonnes of ivory are locked away somewhere.
I was shown to an empty tent which will be my home for the next two months and which I am slowly getting into order, but being Tuesday, with still no kit and no recruits in sight (yes, the cargo plane from Gomo still has to put in an appearance) I will temporarily shut down this diary and update you in due course on my first arrests and
a " flight of angels " over the garden of Eden
Ends
I arrived in Kingali (Rwanda) Wednesday last and was driven through the mountainous passes to the Rwanda/Congo border a few minutes away from the lava ravaged town of Gomo on the shores of lake Kivu. A pleasant interlude at the Kivu Sun right on the beach was followed by the usual intimidation of " so called" scruffily dressed, secret police inside the Congo who wanted to know what was in the vehicle? We are whites you see (!)and anything which they consider would be worthwhile having, is normally handed over to them by fearful " tourists" who want to avoid a confrontation. Well, we didn't fit into that category.Having earlier withstood their banging at the sides of the pick-up, I forcibly brushed my way past one of those leaches from the passenger door en route to customs. The intimidatory tactics ended and we sailed through.
I bedded down for the night at a Lakeside Hotel called the " VIP Palace " - anything but, but a cold beer soon takes away the overall lack of service, confusion and lack of running water. It was to be my home for the next 3 nights for forthcoming days spent in Gomo, which were taken up with admin and log. Huge thunderstorms assaulted the town every afternoon and evening but life continued through the streets which had become muddy swamps and rivulets gushing their way through the rockhard, tyre ripping, fields of lava from the last eruption in 2002.
I suppose my adventure really commenced on Saturday afternoon when in the company of others, we took off in a Cessna 206 in the gathering gloom heading north to Ishango on the western shore of Lake Edward where I had been based earlier this year.I had to leave three quarters of my kit behind due to lack of space with the promise it would be restored to me he next day - its Tuesday now and I am still waiting!
The flight over the volcanoes and lake Edward was an experience not to be missed. One of the volcanoes is still bubbling and molten lava inside the crater is clearly visible from above.
We arrived at Ishango at sunset with my heart in my throat. The Ugandan pilot had misjudged the length of the runway and a cross wind. Running out of airstrip, he had to gun the plane at full throttle to gain height and make another attempt at landing. I was mindful of my earlier flight in an Antonov which was flapping itself through the sky when I was last up there in February (see earlier Congo report) and thought of the other 64 aircraft that crashed last year and another 3 in March this year, when I stepped out of the cabin!
Ishango was different from when I was there last. All tents were now lit up, the kitchen was cleaner and several buildings had had running repairs carried out on them.
The hippos and crocs together with the forest hog, had gone from our front doorstep (I am told they had moved to greener pastures) whilst our kitchen staff had all been replaced. Training which had been undertaken there for the last two months by two French instructors had come to an end. The troops, both old and new, were now awaiting for upliftment to go " operational" in the Garamba.
A pleasant evening was spent in the gazebo overlooking the Semliki River and at 10h00 the next day (Sunday) we were airborne once again in the Cessna bound for a two hour flight to Nagero, the headquarters of the Garamba park.To describe the country we flew over, was something out of a Jules Verne novel. Clouds pregnant with rain scudded below, I had glimpses of creeper, canopy clad, green tropical forests spreading to the horizon as far as the eye could see in all directions. Intermittent brown torrents coiled their way through the foliage to join the Congo river far to the south. Several bald rocky mountain peaks broke through the carpet around which we weaved our way, until 20 minutes before landing, we ploughed into a tropical deluge. My thoughts were once again on earlier casualties. Suffice to say, we aquaplaned onto the torrent of mud and clay which was the Nagero airstrip and another " not to be forgotten" flight had come to an end!
So here I was! Fifteen years earlier I had been earmarked to come to this desperate place to undertake a mission but it never happened. Now it was all for real.As we drove our way into camp through the pouring rain, I was once again reminded of what once had been a viable colonial driven operation in Africa. Buildings which once housed tourists, were now in ruin. Sagging eaves, squatters (families of the rangers!) unpainted and moss covered buildings ; generally accompanied by the total neglect of a place run by post independent Africa. A large storeroom contained skulls of hippos, elephants, rhino, Congo giraffe skins, crocodile heads etc while 3 tonnes of ivory are locked away somewhere.
I was shown to an empty tent which will be my home for the next two months and which I am slowly getting into order, but being Tuesday, with still no kit and no recruits in sight (yes, the cargo plane from Gomo still has to put in an appearance) I will temporarily shut down this diary and update you in due course on my first arrests and
a " flight of angels " over the garden of Eden
Ends
A Congo Story
As a college student in Grahamstown, South Africa "when we were young" I used to gaze wistfully at a map of Africa and wonder what all the green/red/yellow coloured illustrations and colonial sounding names all meant and what was behind the facade?
On further inquiry, my interest was further engendered by that magnificient soldier and author of many books, including "The Jungle is Neutral" by Federick Spencer-Chapman DSO, an "explorer extraordanaire".
One country, the Belgian Congo, leapt from the pages! Huge rivers, volcanoes, jungles, bonobos, chimpanzee's, okapi, apes, kobs, unparalled birdlife, lion, elephant, hippo, rhino, pygmies ......!!! What did that all mean? Who were the early explorers? What were their routes? Da Brazza , Stanley, Goetzen to mention a few. Here was the cradle of mankind I was lead to believe...
The Congo was in a state of turmoil after the "winds of change" : it has been for over 40 years since. Tshombe, Patrice Lumumba, Mobuto jumped from the pages and the name of the "Congo Mercenary", Mike Hoare!
Earlier, UN secretary general "Dag" Hammersjold was shot down in mysterious circumstances.
What did it mean to a heady youngster whose eyes were firmly set north?
Summarising, a hugely immensly and interesting life in the British South Africa Police (BSAP) of Rhodesia with men that counted, and a less adventurous time in the South African forces who were dismally poor in assessing the revolutionary climate . Most of my service was spent working with self effacing, xenophobic staff officers (God help you if you were an ex Rhodesian!) , but was punctuated by the opportunity of conducting a few external adventures in neighbouring countries.
In between time, I was mixed up with experiences in de-mining operations in Mozambique followed by a stint in Kosovo, coupled with in-depth studies of 19th century warfare in Southern Africa which has lead me down many a byway and meeting amazingly, interesting people and sharing their adventures from around the world.
Then it came!
A call to the Congo. Consequently packing up overweight bags, I made my way to Gomo in the south east of the country. A wrecked town. Swarming with the flotsam and jetsam of war. Lava flows from a recent explosion on the banks of Lake Kivu, a former Belgian enclave with sadly neglected holiday homes, apathetic United Nations troops,and NGO's completely out of touch with reality.
The next day I was winging my way to Beni, in North Kivu province, in the hold of an Antinov crowded with locals, trussed up pigs, goats and other livestock & hanging onto the ropes of the net securing the baggage.No seats or cabin service here!
It was the most terrifying time of my life! With the cowlings shaking visibly over the turbo charged engines threatening to disintergrate at any moment, and climbing into the equatorial mists and tropical rain, I thought my time had come as I peered out through the only port hole f''rward. I could see nothing but forest clad peaks. We cleared them by inches. Russian pilots? No way. "I would walk in future if we ever landed safely" were my thoughts.
Notwithstanding. The trip was a nightmare.Three other planes went in last month (April) 64 had gone down in 2005 it was reported. We landed! The passengers whose whites of their eyes were evident in the interior gloom of the fuselage, burst into spontaneous applause.
Humping kit to the office (immigration?) which I thought I had cleared on entering the country from Rwanda, the authorities also decided to get into the act and I was relieved of more dollars. After all, they don't see Europeans up there every day, it scarcely being a tourist route. So why not make a couple of extra bucks? NGO's who arrive there irreguarly are willing to share the spoils of their government with underpaid officials.. Do they care?
The time spent up in the Congo for the next 6 weeks proved to be one of the most arduous and exhililrating weeks of my life. Interaction with mountain gorillas, illegal fishing fleets ; Lake Edward's fish population has been hoovered up ; also its hippo flotilla decimated. It had numbered in tens of thousands 10 years ago and but barely maintains a 100 beasts today on the Congo's shores.
Forest felling, the illegal trade of wild life, the debris of a 9 year old civil war which involved 9 countries (said to be the largest conflict since the end of the 2nd world war) including involvement of our dear friend and colleague Robert Mugabe. River patrols, night exercises, tornado's, the Rwenzori mountains, ("The mountains of the Moon") mosquitos, tstese fly, "creepie crawlies" & reptiles of every description complete the list of experiences.
The green splodge on the map which I had seen in the classroom now had meaning.
I had realised a dream. In a soldier's life there are no signposts and no final destination.
Where next? I will find a place, make no error!
On further inquiry, my interest was further engendered by that magnificient soldier and author of many books, including "The Jungle is Neutral" by Federick Spencer-Chapman DSO, an "explorer extraordanaire".
One country, the Belgian Congo, leapt from the pages! Huge rivers, volcanoes, jungles, bonobos, chimpanzee's, okapi, apes, kobs, unparalled birdlife, lion, elephant, hippo, rhino, pygmies ......!!! What did that all mean? Who were the early explorers? What were their routes? Da Brazza , Stanley, Goetzen to mention a few. Here was the cradle of mankind I was lead to believe...
The Congo was in a state of turmoil after the "winds of change" : it has been for over 40 years since. Tshombe, Patrice Lumumba, Mobuto jumped from the pages and the name of the "Congo Mercenary", Mike Hoare!
Earlier, UN secretary general "Dag" Hammersjold was shot down in mysterious circumstances.
What did it mean to a heady youngster whose eyes were firmly set north?
Summarising, a hugely immensly and interesting life in the British South Africa Police (BSAP) of Rhodesia with men that counted, and a less adventurous time in the South African forces who were dismally poor in assessing the revolutionary climate . Most of my service was spent working with self effacing, xenophobic staff officers (God help you if you were an ex Rhodesian!) , but was punctuated by the opportunity of conducting a few external adventures in neighbouring countries.
In between time, I was mixed up with experiences in de-mining operations in Mozambique followed by a stint in Kosovo, coupled with in-depth studies of 19th century warfare in Southern Africa which has lead me down many a byway and meeting amazingly, interesting people and sharing their adventures from around the world.
Then it came!
A call to the Congo. Consequently packing up overweight bags, I made my way to Gomo in the south east of the country. A wrecked town. Swarming with the flotsam and jetsam of war. Lava flows from a recent explosion on the banks of Lake Kivu, a former Belgian enclave with sadly neglected holiday homes, apathetic United Nations troops,and NGO's completely out of touch with reality.
The next day I was winging my way to Beni, in North Kivu province, in the hold of an Antinov crowded with locals, trussed up pigs, goats and other livestock & hanging onto the ropes of the net securing the baggage.No seats or cabin service here!
It was the most terrifying time of my life! With the cowlings shaking visibly over the turbo charged engines threatening to disintergrate at any moment, and climbing into the equatorial mists and tropical rain, I thought my time had come as I peered out through the only port hole f''rward. I could see nothing but forest clad peaks. We cleared them by inches. Russian pilots? No way. "I would walk in future if we ever landed safely" were my thoughts.
Notwithstanding. The trip was a nightmare.Three other planes went in last month (April) 64 had gone down in 2005 it was reported. We landed! The passengers whose whites of their eyes were evident in the interior gloom of the fuselage, burst into spontaneous applause.
Humping kit to the office (immigration?) which I thought I had cleared on entering the country from Rwanda, the authorities also decided to get into the act and I was relieved of more dollars. After all, they don't see Europeans up there every day, it scarcely being a tourist route. So why not make a couple of extra bucks? NGO's who arrive there irreguarly are willing to share the spoils of their government with underpaid officials.. Do they care?
The time spent up in the Congo for the next 6 weeks proved to be one of the most arduous and exhililrating weeks of my life. Interaction with mountain gorillas, illegal fishing fleets ; Lake Edward's fish population has been hoovered up ; also its hippo flotilla decimated. It had numbered in tens of thousands 10 years ago and but barely maintains a 100 beasts today on the Congo's shores.
Forest felling, the illegal trade of wild life, the debris of a 9 year old civil war which involved 9 countries (said to be the largest conflict since the end of the 2nd world war) including involvement of our dear friend and colleague Robert Mugabe. River patrols, night exercises, tornado's, the Rwenzori mountains, ("The mountains of the Moon") mosquitos, tstese fly, "creepie crawlies" & reptiles of every description complete the list of experiences.
The green splodge on the map which I had seen in the classroom now had meaning.
I had realised a dream. In a soldier's life there are no signposts and no final destination.
Where next? I will find a place, make no error!
A Congo Camp
In many animal institutions around the globe, no matter in what environment, one can walk in on an unexpected creature from the wild, which has been domesticated and part of the human genre (daily life).
Recently whilst on patrol in the Drakensberg in Natal, there was an establishment which had a pet cape otter (Nimrod) and a karakul (Jonty) Both had been adopted at an earlier age, and whilst retaining their own characteristics,fitted in well to daily life of domestic pets and human daily chores.The otter used to make surprise appearances in the guest' s bath tub and appear from underneath cushions in the bar, whilst Jonty used to claw himself up trees and tease the dogs!
Here in the Garamba, a similar scene greeted me on my arrival. A baby baboon had made mates with a small vervet monkey and continuously nursed it from any perceived danger. Another monkey had befriended a nanny goat and clung to its back on patrols around the camp. The goat took its burden in its stride and only once did I see it bucking like a horse in a rodeo anxious to rid itself of its rider which grimly held on!
The pilot had a chimpanzee saved from a Congo bush meat market which followed him wherever he went. Duty took him on several occasions to other parts whereupon he used to leave it in the care of the camp guards. One night they neglected to house it and a sniggering hyena dined out.
We also have a 3 month old lioness named Nagere She spends her night caged in a wooden crate and on a leash out in the paddock during the day snapping at insects, chasing birds and playing with the off duty guards.. Two days ago, she bit her way free & disappeared into the elephant grass. We expected to never see her again. But she turned up meowing and looking for a bone to chew upon. Of course, she had no mother to teach her to hunt and would have proved a tasty dish for some other carnivore or killed by a pride of lions living nearby. I have sent out an SOS for someone/anyone to take her into a home outside the Congo.Do you want her perhaps?
Last night the tug boats fog horns blaring, moved into base and fought a dual not 5 meters from my tent. Bellicose, bellowing hippo tore into each other and there was a moment or two in the pitch black darkness, I thought that I would be paid an unwelcome ,3 tonne visit, through the thin fabric.The commotion died down
Dawn brought in a thick mist. I was about to prepare lectures for the day when local grass cutters drew my attention to the banks of the Dungu river. There, caught up against a dead tree 10 meters out in the water, lay a colossal Nile crocodile with legs pointed to the sky. There was a single wound on the exposed belly.A fatal bite from a hippo perhaps?
Out in the park amongst the high grass, sightings of lions, elephant, kob, hartebeest, oribi, waterbuck, mongooses, squirrels, a sub species of giraffe, Nile buffalo, hyena. But none of the last remaining northern white rhino on this planet which are either extinct or very close to it.
Downstream, the last remaining domesticated elephant remains alive. She was part of a troop tamed in better days to conduct elephant back tours around the park, similar to what is done today in other parts of Africa. This, like everything else, collapsed amongst the Congo's internal wars and strife.One cannot feel deep compassion when gazing into this animal' s eyes. You can almost hear her asking, " Why"? I am one of God's creations after all
Its muggy, hot and humid again. The skies don't hold the promise of refreshing rain, but what will the night bring?
Recently whilst on patrol in the Drakensberg in Natal, there was an establishment which had a pet cape otter (Nimrod) and a karakul (Jonty) Both had been adopted at an earlier age, and whilst retaining their own characteristics,fitted in well to daily life of domestic pets and human daily chores.The otter used to make surprise appearances in the guest' s bath tub and appear from underneath cushions in the bar, whilst Jonty used to claw himself up trees and tease the dogs!
Here in the Garamba, a similar scene greeted me on my arrival. A baby baboon had made mates with a small vervet monkey and continuously nursed it from any perceived danger. Another monkey had befriended a nanny goat and clung to its back on patrols around the camp. The goat took its burden in its stride and only once did I see it bucking like a horse in a rodeo anxious to rid itself of its rider which grimly held on!
The pilot had a chimpanzee saved from a Congo bush meat market which followed him wherever he went. Duty took him on several occasions to other parts whereupon he used to leave it in the care of the camp guards. One night they neglected to house it and a sniggering hyena dined out.
We also have a 3 month old lioness named Nagere She spends her night caged in a wooden crate and on a leash out in the paddock during the day snapping at insects, chasing birds and playing with the off duty guards.. Two days ago, she bit her way free & disappeared into the elephant grass. We expected to never see her again. But she turned up meowing and looking for a bone to chew upon. Of course, she had no mother to teach her to hunt and would have proved a tasty dish for some other carnivore or killed by a pride of lions living nearby. I have sent out an SOS for someone/anyone to take her into a home outside the Congo.Do you want her perhaps?
Last night the tug boats fog horns blaring, moved into base and fought a dual not 5 meters from my tent. Bellicose, bellowing hippo tore into each other and there was a moment or two in the pitch black darkness, I thought that I would be paid an unwelcome ,3 tonne visit, through the thin fabric.The commotion died down
Dawn brought in a thick mist. I was about to prepare lectures for the day when local grass cutters drew my attention to the banks of the Dungu river. There, caught up against a dead tree 10 meters out in the water, lay a colossal Nile crocodile with legs pointed to the sky. There was a single wound on the exposed belly.A fatal bite from a hippo perhaps?
Out in the park amongst the high grass, sightings of lions, elephant, kob, hartebeest, oribi, waterbuck, mongooses, squirrels, a sub species of giraffe, Nile buffalo, hyena. But none of the last remaining northern white rhino on this planet which are either extinct or very close to it.
Downstream, the last remaining domesticated elephant remains alive. She was part of a troop tamed in better days to conduct elephant back tours around the park, similar to what is done today in other parts of Africa. This, like everything else, collapsed amongst the Congo's internal wars and strife.One cannot feel deep compassion when gazing into this animal' s eyes. You can almost hear her asking, " Why"? I am one of God's creations after all
Its muggy, hot and humid again. The skies don't hold the promise of refreshing rain, but what will the night bring?
Congo Road
It takes a while to be come accustomed to your environment in any particular area. In the 14 days I have been at the Garamba, I have been to the scene of a murder of one of the rangers, come across the carcass of an elephant from where the ivory and tail had been hacked from its body, arrested ranger/poachers, traversed across the abutting " domain de chasse" , found abandoned poachers camps and trails, and ....................
In the east of the park, found a one eyed crone over 100 years old living under a shelter, received reports of Ugandan rebels moving freely around the country to the east, picked up stories of bushmeat being sold 100kms away in the west etc etc.
But Wednesday last, I decided to test a Congo road.
My journey from base to Aligi in the east was a mere 25kms. It took 3 hours to negotiate the road on a Semke 125 cc Chinese motor bike- once a national highway accessible to a 2 x 4. Built by the Begians over 60 years ago, a clearing was made through the forest using harnessed locally trained elephants. Imported stone was laid as a base and bitumised. The numerous rivers were spanned with wooden bridges and sturdy cement and stone abutments. There were clinics, schools and other modern infrastructure in the towns. No more. The " road " is a ruin, with cavernous pot holes the size of olympic swimming pools and filled with ooze and slimy green water.
With 5 rangers, I undertook this assignment and marvelled at the sights and sounds along the road. Numerous bicycles travelled east and west, and west and east along the road. Hardy merchants travelling to a far off village up to 200 kms from house base in search of the necessities of life.A three week return journey.Groaning bikes loaded up with 100 kg bags of salt, spare parts for the machine, pedals,a pump, pots, pans and other cooking utensils, a mattress, clothing. All dutifully pushing their bikes in convoys through the mud and slime and riding when a firmer section of the road (rarely) was visible.
Little road side shambas at the edges of the forest along the road ,every 8 kms or so, selling itsy bitsys. A funeral of a baby, a 10 year old boy pushing a bike with a chair strapped to the back holding two wide eyed infants, another with a very dehydrated goat similarily strapped to the carrier.
There was one common factor I encountered on the road. Everyone to whom I spoke was friendly and polite and offered up the information and complaints readily. But the essential info that I was seeking was not available. Namely - where are the poaching gangs operating from?
I cannot tell you of all the magnificent birds flitting through the trees that I spotted. The bird books record them all but we don't have the privilege of viewing these monarchs of the glades further south. Elephant dung seen occasionally but not in the quantity there should have been. They are a seriously threatened species in these parts. Ivory sold by the poachers fetches a mere $30,00 a KG. They are then moved on over the borders where the mark up rises considerably until their final destination in the east it is claimed.
On my return, a motor cycle with 3 pax on it whisked me going in the opposite direction. On stopping at the next village, there were a score of wailing woman,
" What happened?" I asked?
"A woman had died of disease in a village 80 kms away and she was being taken to Faradge for burial" I was told.Her body had been strapped between the driver and the pillion passenger in a sitting up position!
I now know why they both wore face masks! A Congo ambulance in action!!!
After the end of this extraordinary day, one of the rangers came up to me with a smile on his face and said " Patron, do you know that 90% of the villagers we visited today had never seen a white man before" ?
What a world!
In the east of the park, found a one eyed crone over 100 years old living under a shelter, received reports of Ugandan rebels moving freely around the country to the east, picked up stories of bushmeat being sold 100kms away in the west etc etc.
But Wednesday last, I decided to test a Congo road.
My journey from base to Aligi in the east was a mere 25kms. It took 3 hours to negotiate the road on a Semke 125 cc Chinese motor bike- once a national highway accessible to a 2 x 4. Built by the Begians over 60 years ago, a clearing was made through the forest using harnessed locally trained elephants. Imported stone was laid as a base and bitumised. The numerous rivers were spanned with wooden bridges and sturdy cement and stone abutments. There were clinics, schools and other modern infrastructure in the towns. No more. The " road " is a ruin, with cavernous pot holes the size of olympic swimming pools and filled with ooze and slimy green water.
With 5 rangers, I undertook this assignment and marvelled at the sights and sounds along the road. Numerous bicycles travelled east and west, and west and east along the road. Hardy merchants travelling to a far off village up to 200 kms from house base in search of the necessities of life.A three week return journey.Groaning bikes loaded up with 100 kg bags of salt, spare parts for the machine, pedals,a pump, pots, pans and other cooking utensils, a mattress, clothing. All dutifully pushing their bikes in convoys through the mud and slime and riding when a firmer section of the road (rarely) was visible.
Little road side shambas at the edges of the forest along the road ,every 8 kms or so, selling itsy bitsys. A funeral of a baby, a 10 year old boy pushing a bike with a chair strapped to the back holding two wide eyed infants, another with a very dehydrated goat similarily strapped to the carrier.
There was one common factor I encountered on the road. Everyone to whom I spoke was friendly and polite and offered up the information and complaints readily. But the essential info that I was seeking was not available. Namely - where are the poaching gangs operating from?
I cannot tell you of all the magnificent birds flitting through the trees that I spotted. The bird books record them all but we don't have the privilege of viewing these monarchs of the glades further south. Elephant dung seen occasionally but not in the quantity there should have been. They are a seriously threatened species in these parts. Ivory sold by the poachers fetches a mere $30,00 a KG. They are then moved on over the borders where the mark up rises considerably until their final destination in the east it is claimed.
On my return, a motor cycle with 3 pax on it whisked me going in the opposite direction. On stopping at the next village, there were a score of wailing woman,
" What happened?" I asked?
"A woman had died of disease in a village 80 kms away and she was being taken to Faradge for burial" I was told.Her body had been strapped between the driver and the pillion passenger in a sitting up position!
I now know why they both wore face masks! A Congo ambulance in action!!!
After the end of this extraordinary day, one of the rangers came up to me with a smile on his face and said " Patron, do you know that 90% of the villagers we visited today had never seen a white man before" ?
What a world!
"Changa Changa" - Zambia's John Dunn.
FOR INFORMATION - Material gathered on a recent trip to Zambia
Luangwa township is today a small district headquarters and border post at the end of a road that goes no further. It is the lowest point in Zambia and probably the hotest, being situated at the confluence of the Zambesi and Luangwa rivers on the Mozambique and Zimbabwean borders. In these notes, its ancient name of Feira is used to avoid confusion with the latter river.
Feira is one of the most historic sites in Zambia. Except for the former Portuguese coastal settlements and Tete downstream on the Zambezi in Mozambique, no other place in the whole of Southern Africa has such an early recorded origin as Feira.Although the documents on its subsequent history are fragmentary and at times confusing, they chronicle an eventful sequence of violent struggles between the local people and the Portuguese intruders for control of this stategic site at the junction of what used to be two lucrative trade routes along the river. the records also give fascinating glimpses of life in what is now Zambia during the pre-colonial period.
In the absence of early written records before the arrival of the Portuguese in the 16th century, historians can only rely on verbal legends and on archaeological evidence of events in this area. The latter evidence indicates that the Zambezi was a trade route at least as early as the 8th century A.D. It is probable that the imported goods found in graves at Ingombe Ilede some distance up the Zambesi river from Feira were brought there by intermediaries between the Arabs on the coast and the local people, if not the Arabs themselves. Beads, ceramics, cloth and cowrie shells were exchanged for copper and malachite from Katanga, gold from the country south of the Zambezi, rhino horn and ivory.
The Luangwa was less important as a trade route as it was not so easily navigable. However it did give access to the abundant wild life that can still be seen in the Luangwa valley today - except for the rhinos which have been exterminated by poachers in recent years.During the Portuguese period, the Luangwa valley was also used as a trade route to the court of Chief Luapula, where copper was exchanged for imported foods.
After displacing theArab traders on the coast, the Portuguese followed the Zambesi inland in search of ivory, slaves and precious metals. At first they established ports at Sena and Tete on the river.The earliest record of their arrival in what is now Zambia, is that of the foundation of Zumbo on the east bank of the Luangwa in 1546.It is certain from this base they would have crossed the Luangwa. The exact date of Feira's foundation is not known but it would have been about the same time. Feira means "market or fair" in Portuguese.
Chronology
1600 AD ; Zumbo and Feira abandoned
1726 : Father Pedro da Santissima Trinidade, a Dominican priest installed as vicar of Zumbo ".............with the cross in his hand and virtue in his soul, and also like St Francis Xavier, with a host of remedies for the ills both of body and the spirit, he made an enormous number of converts whom he raised from a state of barbarism.....He rapidly became famous for his piety and virtues.
1729 : First church built at Zumbo.
1751 : Father Pedro dies, "respected by the inhabitants......for helping to dissolve with his advice old standing hatreds, making up differences, comforting souls and dispensing widely from his stock."
1754 : Portuguese driven out of Zumbo by local people, taking refuge in Feira where Jose Pedro Diner was appointed commandant. He fortified the perimeter of the settlement with a massive stone wall, traces of which still exist. However, he did not fortify the river frontage thinking that no attack would be launched from the water. In this he was mistaken ; the local Nsenga tribe did indeed attack from the river and destroyed the town! Diner was gaoled for incompetence and replaced by da Souza
1763 : 200 Portuguese families were living in Zumbo.
1780 : Zumbo occupied by Francisco Pereira, nicknamed "The Terror", no doubt for his brutality
1804 : Zumbo captured and destroyed by Chief Mburuma IV.
1811 : New churches built at Zumbo and Feira.
1813 : Zumbo again destroyed by Chief Mburuma IV.
1818 : Chief Mburuma IV driven out of Feira by the Portuguese who rebuilt the town.
1827 : Captain Jose Manuel Monteiro in charge of Feira.
1830 : Chief Mburuma IV killed during a night attack on Feira.Peace agreement negotiated with Chief Mburuma V by brother Pedro.
1835 : Zwangendaba's Angoni impi crossed the Zambesi near Feira on his long march from Zululand to the shores of lake Victoria and then back to what is now Zambia's Eastern Province leaving a path of death and destruction.
1836 : Feira evacuated by Ensign Jose de Sequeira after further attacks by local Nsenga. Zumbo again overrun and destroyed.
"Easter Sunday 1836 is perhaps the blackest day of all in the history of this small colony which had already passed through so many vicissitudes. From the few trustworthy data now available, it appears that nearly all the inhabitants of Zumbo, including their commandant, has crossed the river to Feira and were the guests of Father Joao.During their absence, Captain Alexandre da Corta, who had quarrelled with the Resident Cactapa and who had refused to accompany the party to Feira, betrayed the town and opened the gates of Zumbo to Chief Zeka who, with his warriors, entered without firing a shot. The first intimation that the people of Zumbo had of his treachery was when they saw flames leaping out of their new convent and church. The few residents that had remained behind were foully murdered, the stores were ransacked and before this impi left, the town was for the second time, practically razed to the ground. After this calamity the inhabitants of Zumbo appear to have lost heart. They did not attempt to rebuild the township ; some went to Feira, others left for the coast."
1856 : Dr David Livingstone visited Feira on his epic coast to coast journey from Luanda to Mozambique. He found the place deserted and in ruins.
Despite all the massacre and desruction at both places there were intevals of peaceful trading and prosperity, notably under Fr. Pedro's wise and benevolent guidance 1726-1751.
At other times relations with the local population were poor.The Portuguese tended to be serville when at a disadvantage and brutally oppressive when they had the upper hand ; a recipe for trouble.
Feira remained in ruins until the arrival in 1857 of Harrison Clark, or "Changa Changa"as he was known to the locals. Born in the Cape Province in South Africa he fled north to escape justice after an accident involving the death of an African. There were still some Portuguese at Zumbo but it had become little more than a base for slave trading and elephant hunting by half caste Chikunda who terroirised a wide area. Clark raised his own militia amongst the locals and restored order suppressing both the slave trading and inter-tribal warfare. He negotiated several treaties with various chiefs highly favourable to himself.
On one occasion he crossed the Luangwa drove the Portuguese out of Zumbo and raised the Union Jack there. His authority extended up onto the plateau as far as the Kafue river. He came to be regarded as a chief and imposed licences and export taxes on traders. He consolidated his position by marrying the daughter of Mapuka, chief of the Chikunda.
A Portuguese who had built a fortified post on the Lunsemfwa river was banished by Clark who destroyed the post. Later he was arrested by the Zumbo Commandant who had to release him when the Chikunda refused to guard him as he was "too great a man to be imprisoned."
In 1895 he moved from Feira to a fortress built at the confluence of the Lumsemfwa and Lukusashi rivers. This was more centrally situated in his vast domain.
However his days as uncrowned king were numbered after Cecil John Rhodes' British South Africa company was granted jurisdiction over the country north of the Zambesi. In 1901 the company sent Shekleton to open a station at Feira. Clarke's treaties with the chiefs were not recognised by the company. However he was granted three farms as compensation.
With the establiashmnent of Company rule at Feira, peace and order was finally established in this lawless area in accordance with Company motto "Justice, Freedom, Commerce."
In the early 1900's Feira became an important transit depot for the movement of cattle bought by traders in German East Africa and walked down through the Luangwa Valley. They were them swum across the Zambesi for sale in Southern Rhodesia. During this period, there were three hotels at Feira.
In 1917 a rebellion in Mozambique and Portuguese discouragement of Catholic missions caused a Jesuit mission to move over the Luangwa to Katondwe in Feira district. This mission now provides medical services to the local population at its impressive hospital.
In later years, Feira became to be regarded as a punishment station for officials who were out of favour. Feira's isolation and intense heat was thought to be a suitable environment for reflection of their errors. During the 1950's one of the District Commissioners (DC's) conducted business in his office sitting in a bath of water in order to keep cool.
During the Rhodesian bush war in the late sixties, violence returned to Feira in the form of skirmishes between communist backed terrorists and Rhodesian security forces based at Kanyemba. Nowadays, the district remains quiet, remote and impoverished. Its soils are generally poor, the rainfall scanty and erratic. There are few economic possibilities tho this could improve with the development of tourism to this corner.
Acknowledgment:
John Hudson OBE. MA. from who most of this material is gathered &collated.
Management -Bridge Camp, Luangwa river
Luangwa township is today a small district headquarters and border post at the end of a road that goes no further. It is the lowest point in Zambia and probably the hotest, being situated at the confluence of the Zambesi and Luangwa rivers on the Mozambique and Zimbabwean borders. In these notes, its ancient name of Feira is used to avoid confusion with the latter river.
Feira is one of the most historic sites in Zambia. Except for the former Portuguese coastal settlements and Tete downstream on the Zambezi in Mozambique, no other place in the whole of Southern Africa has such an early recorded origin as Feira.Although the documents on its subsequent history are fragmentary and at times confusing, they chronicle an eventful sequence of violent struggles between the local people and the Portuguese intruders for control of this stategic site at the junction of what used to be two lucrative trade routes along the river. the records also give fascinating glimpses of life in what is now Zambia during the pre-colonial period.
In the absence of early written records before the arrival of the Portuguese in the 16th century, historians can only rely on verbal legends and on archaeological evidence of events in this area. The latter evidence indicates that the Zambezi was a trade route at least as early as the 8th century A.D. It is probable that the imported goods found in graves at Ingombe Ilede some distance up the Zambesi river from Feira were brought there by intermediaries between the Arabs on the coast and the local people, if not the Arabs themselves. Beads, ceramics, cloth and cowrie shells were exchanged for copper and malachite from Katanga, gold from the country south of the Zambezi, rhino horn and ivory.
The Luangwa was less important as a trade route as it was not so easily navigable. However it did give access to the abundant wild life that can still be seen in the Luangwa valley today - except for the rhinos which have been exterminated by poachers in recent years.During the Portuguese period, the Luangwa valley was also used as a trade route to the court of Chief Luapula, where copper was exchanged for imported foods.
After displacing theArab traders on the coast, the Portuguese followed the Zambesi inland in search of ivory, slaves and precious metals. At first they established ports at Sena and Tete on the river.The earliest record of their arrival in what is now Zambia, is that of the foundation of Zumbo on the east bank of the Luangwa in 1546.It is certain from this base they would have crossed the Luangwa. The exact date of Feira's foundation is not known but it would have been about the same time. Feira means "market or fair" in Portuguese.
Chronology
1600 AD ; Zumbo and Feira abandoned
1726 : Father Pedro da Santissima Trinidade, a Dominican priest installed as vicar of Zumbo ".............with the cross in his hand and virtue in his soul, and also like St Francis Xavier, with a host of remedies for the ills both of body and the spirit, he made an enormous number of converts whom he raised from a state of barbarism.....He rapidly became famous for his piety and virtues.
1729 : First church built at Zumbo.
1751 : Father Pedro dies, "respected by the inhabitants......for helping to dissolve with his advice old standing hatreds, making up differences, comforting souls and dispensing widely from his stock."
1754 : Portuguese driven out of Zumbo by local people, taking refuge in Feira where Jose Pedro Diner was appointed commandant. He fortified the perimeter of the settlement with a massive stone wall, traces of which still exist. However, he did not fortify the river frontage thinking that no attack would be launched from the water. In this he was mistaken ; the local Nsenga tribe did indeed attack from the river and destroyed the town! Diner was gaoled for incompetence and replaced by da Souza
1763 : 200 Portuguese families were living in Zumbo.
1780 : Zumbo occupied by Francisco Pereira, nicknamed "The Terror", no doubt for his brutality
1804 : Zumbo captured and destroyed by Chief Mburuma IV.
1811 : New churches built at Zumbo and Feira.
1813 : Zumbo again destroyed by Chief Mburuma IV.
1818 : Chief Mburuma IV driven out of Feira by the Portuguese who rebuilt the town.
1827 : Captain Jose Manuel Monteiro in charge of Feira.
1830 : Chief Mburuma IV killed during a night attack on Feira.Peace agreement negotiated with Chief Mburuma V by brother Pedro.
1835 : Zwangendaba's Angoni impi crossed the Zambesi near Feira on his long march from Zululand to the shores of lake Victoria and then back to what is now Zambia's Eastern Province leaving a path of death and destruction.
1836 : Feira evacuated by Ensign Jose de Sequeira after further attacks by local Nsenga. Zumbo again overrun and destroyed.
"Easter Sunday 1836 is perhaps the blackest day of all in the history of this small colony which had already passed through so many vicissitudes. From the few trustworthy data now available, it appears that nearly all the inhabitants of Zumbo, including their commandant, has crossed the river to Feira and were the guests of Father Joao.During their absence, Captain Alexandre da Corta, who had quarrelled with the Resident Cactapa and who had refused to accompany the party to Feira, betrayed the town and opened the gates of Zumbo to Chief Zeka who, with his warriors, entered without firing a shot. The first intimation that the people of Zumbo had of his treachery was when they saw flames leaping out of their new convent and church. The few residents that had remained behind were foully murdered, the stores were ransacked and before this impi left, the town was for the second time, practically razed to the ground. After this calamity the inhabitants of Zumbo appear to have lost heart. They did not attempt to rebuild the township ; some went to Feira, others left for the coast."
1856 : Dr David Livingstone visited Feira on his epic coast to coast journey from Luanda to Mozambique. He found the place deserted and in ruins.
Despite all the massacre and desruction at both places there were intevals of peaceful trading and prosperity, notably under Fr. Pedro's wise and benevolent guidance 1726-1751.
At other times relations with the local population were poor.The Portuguese tended to be serville when at a disadvantage and brutally oppressive when they had the upper hand ; a recipe for trouble.
Feira remained in ruins until the arrival in 1857 of Harrison Clark, or "Changa Changa"as he was known to the locals. Born in the Cape Province in South Africa he fled north to escape justice after an accident involving the death of an African. There were still some Portuguese at Zumbo but it had become little more than a base for slave trading and elephant hunting by half caste Chikunda who terroirised a wide area. Clark raised his own militia amongst the locals and restored order suppressing both the slave trading and inter-tribal warfare. He negotiated several treaties with various chiefs highly favourable to himself.
On one occasion he crossed the Luangwa drove the Portuguese out of Zumbo and raised the Union Jack there. His authority extended up onto the plateau as far as the Kafue river. He came to be regarded as a chief and imposed licences and export taxes on traders. He consolidated his position by marrying the daughter of Mapuka, chief of the Chikunda.
A Portuguese who had built a fortified post on the Lunsemfwa river was banished by Clark who destroyed the post. Later he was arrested by the Zumbo Commandant who had to release him when the Chikunda refused to guard him as he was "too great a man to be imprisoned."
In 1895 he moved from Feira to a fortress built at the confluence of the Lumsemfwa and Lukusashi rivers. This was more centrally situated in his vast domain.
However his days as uncrowned king were numbered after Cecil John Rhodes' British South Africa company was granted jurisdiction over the country north of the Zambesi. In 1901 the company sent Shekleton to open a station at Feira. Clarke's treaties with the chiefs were not recognised by the company. However he was granted three farms as compensation.
With the establiashmnent of Company rule at Feira, peace and order was finally established in this lawless area in accordance with Company motto "Justice, Freedom, Commerce."
In the early 1900's Feira became an important transit depot for the movement of cattle bought by traders in German East Africa and walked down through the Luangwa Valley. They were them swum across the Zambesi for sale in Southern Rhodesia. During this period, there were three hotels at Feira.
In 1917 a rebellion in Mozambique and Portuguese discouragement of Catholic missions caused a Jesuit mission to move over the Luangwa to Katondwe in Feira district. This mission now provides medical services to the local population at its impressive hospital.
In later years, Feira became to be regarded as a punishment station for officials who were out of favour. Feira's isolation and intense heat was thought to be a suitable environment for reflection of their errors. During the 1950's one of the District Commissioners (DC's) conducted business in his office sitting in a bath of water in order to keep cool.
During the Rhodesian bush war in the late sixties, violence returned to Feira in the form of skirmishes between communist backed terrorists and Rhodesian security forces based at Kanyemba. Nowadays, the district remains quiet, remote and impoverished. Its soils are generally poor, the rainfall scanty and erratic. There are few economic possibilities tho this could improve with the development of tourism to this corner.
Acknowledgment:
John Hudson OBE. MA. from who most of this material is gathered &collated.
Management -Bridge Camp, Luangwa river
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