Jenn, please believe me, but I am going to have to end this letter. So sorry but something has happened… and the transport leaves tomorrow.
Tim, knee deep in water on the Mana flood plain. Dave Peddie
MANA POOLS – 13TH JANUARY 1979 (EXTRACTS) As you no doubt realised from my last letter, Kerry [Pilot/Ranger Kerry Fynn— Helicopter Pilot 7 Squadron Rhodesian Air Force] was killed in action on New Year’s Day. What actually happened no one is certain except that two helicopters collided killing six people, one person escaping. They were involved in a contact and it is very likely that one of the aircraft was hit and whilst out of control went into the other craft. I managed to get a flight out from here to Salisbury on Sunday evening to attend the funeral. As you can imagine, there were many people there and
299
CHAPTER 8: BIOGRAPHIES & JOURNALS
MANA – 29TH JUNE 1978 On Monday Dolf [Ranger Dolf Sasseen] and myself returned from a patrol we did to Chewore. We planned to be out for about ten to twelve days, but unfortunately had to cut the patrol short as our radio communications failed us completely and we returned to Mana after only eight days. Despite this it was really one of the best weeks I have spent down here in the valley. The shortest route to Chewore is following the Zambezi down, which is what we did, a distance of about eighty kilometres. The river has two floodgates at Kariba still spilling and so one cannot walk much on the flood plain as this is still water-bound in many places. About fifteen kilometres before the confluence of the Zambezi and the Chewore rivers the Zambezi River starts narrowing down. Here the Acacia albidas give way to the giant Diospyros [ebony] trees. These grow on steep banks going right down to the water’s edge. Under the canopy, the forest, although not very wide, is dark and sheltered and the sun filters through, warming and painting the undergrowth into light greens and yellows. We found an old elephant bull along this section of the river with beautiful tusks—he was not perturbed when we quietly filed past him, just giving us a casual glance and continuing his slow eating, his trunk gently and deftly plucking the small leaves off a thorny acacia tree. The Chewore River was still flowing well and the water was clean and quite cool. One day we shot a young impala with a silenced weapon we had with us. We had been walking all day and were far from our packs, which we had hidden in the bush. A fire was made and the liver, kidneys and inside fillets were cooked on the hot coals. Although I have often eaten meat like this I don’t think I will forget those few moments—the tremendous feeling of being out, far from any of the world’s complications, the meat fresh and hot, the animal’s blood on our hands, the slightly muddy water of the river (sounds like we are reverting to become primitive, but I enjoyed it). Game was not all that abundant, most of it still being spread out, relying on the still good water supplies. There are some lovely big impala herds around at the moment and small buffalo herds seem to be moving down closer to the Zambezi. We did see a lot of rhino and a nice pride of lion at a place called Mtawa-Mtawa Pools. Mtawa-Mtawa Pools is a necklace of pools on the flood plain in the Sapi Controlled Hunting Area. Kalahari sand forest comes right up to the water and we sat in the seclusion of these trees one day at last light and experienced the day coming to an end—the white-faced ducks whistling overhead; guinea fowl with their harsh cracklings, black silhouettes coming in to roost; the hippo stirring and playing restlessly in the calm water, becoming impatient for the night’s grazing. The lions brought us back to reality, coming upon us silently, their inquisitive faces peering at us intently from the dark shadows. That night we heard them roaring close by—a fitting tribute to a fine day.