Finally a little bit from Paula

I had been prodding my friend Paula Ferro to write something for Dancing ever since the idea for a blog about the Reserve was conceived about a year ago but she has been a bit shy about sharing.This year while staying with Paula and Derek in Luwire I again breached the subject and she told me she had written a short little page or two describing a typical day of operation in Luwire. Although she has sent pics and info about the Reserve I still was waiting for something from her own voice, something personally experienced and told from her own perspective. Paula is from Columbia and came to Mozambique for research purposes and stayed. She has been living in Mozambique for the last 4 years and her sweet disposition and calm demeanor go a long way when dealing with the ups and downs of daily operations in such a remote area. But, as we have all come to understand Mama, as the staff and local population call her has the ability to command the respect of the most hard nosed troublemaker for when she looks you in the eye and extends her index finger in your direction you know that at his point you have overstepped your bounds. Paula asked me to read and edit the piece and after reading it for the first time I knew immediately that any editing on my part would only take away from the piece. Paula's accent and South American perspective comes through in her words and only adds to the beautifully described tongue and cheek imagery. This is exactly what I was hoping for, a window to the lives of all that have so serendipitously been assembled to call this place their home and allow for you to experience through their words the depth of the wonder and ambiance that makes this piece of Africa so special.

I will however explain a few words so as to allow you a better understanding as to the local meaning.

1. palacio, a small bamboo house that Paula, Derek and Ph's use that is set back and away from the Client tents.
2. The tree house, about 30 ft. up a large tree was built to stay in after a bad encounter one night with an Elephant that had a bad disposition.
3.Ndapata, one of the Luwire Camps located in the center of the concession.
4.Gato and Le Chiffre, the two camp cats, part African Wildcat and part domestic.
5.Madala- honored older person
6.Cheetah-a light duty plane used by the Reserve

One day in Luwire camps

4 am, Lilepe wakes up with his powerful alarm. A bip bip coming from a Chinese Casio watch bought in the potato market in Pemba, a paradise where you can find the best electronics made in China, the best rate for dollar exchange and the best potatoes. Sorry where I was, oh! Yes Lilepe, sorry, Lilepe is our waiter, he has being with us for 10 years and he has being fired about 5 times. He is our best waiter. This story should be called the best, or the best of Luwire! Ok, lets continue our story.
4:15 underneath the Tree house, called the 2nd floor or Segundo Andar, just next to Palacio, Lilepe wakes up Derek, the Number One, “ Licença Patrão, Licença”! The day starts!
4:30 Derek and the client go to the bush, and Lilepe goes to sleep. The hunting day has started. Driving on the bumpy roads the impalas jump in front of the vehicle, some kudus on the right, a few meters later ten sables, eight females and two males.


The sun and the wind in the open car begins to burn their faces…
But in the camp the real activities start just before 7am, when the radio comms wake up the whole Reserve, the Luwire camps and Pemba with the most amazing news: food distribution, vehicles broken, scouts missing, a cook sick, etc. This is the event of the day. It is just like being in a Radio Station recording “Good morning America”.




Tigre is the leader, a fat, 4-foot man; he takes control of the news. Nobody is aloud to talk before him, not even Katandika, the Main Scout or Motorola, the worker in charge of Metarica Camp, a lover of radios. Tigre takes note of all the information that comes through the radio and reports all the details of the day to Derek on a dirty piece of paper written with terrible handwriting.
Tigre calls all the posts: “Posto no ar”? (Post in the air?), Matola - the waiter from Ndapata Camp, the only camp that can hear all the other posts responds; but a little note, he is the only one that can’t relay a message well. Answer: Yes, here Ndapata, Good morning! At the same time, Motorola gets in between the conversation and says that the ‘potato is getting rotten’ and his radio will die soon. (The potato is what the workers call the radio battery, when the potato gets rotten, the battery gets flat.) It is an emergency call. In the middle of this big moment, Dona Paula calls Tigre and he gives the “mazaroca” (microphone in our language, corn in theirs) to Lilepe to continue the radio show. “Why is the potato so rotten, where is the solar panel?” All the posts are talking- Madala is sick, Abondio has being missing for 30 days, Cezario is a father for the 10th time, Tome’s wife has being capture by the police and sent to jail because she bit the neighbours- But Dona Paula, takes control of the mazaroca and everybody stops talking – Mama is on the air, everybody listens to her instructions. Mama is like a bush Oprah giving advice in medical and love issues. Because when Number One is not around, Mama that takes control of the strangest situations.
The radio has been on for 30 minutes, all sorts of problems have been resolved, some of the workers are happy but others are very disappointed at the conclusion of the radio show.
The radio is off. Mama prepares her magic finger, and starts to give instructions to all the workers, scouts, cooks and tractor drivers. Everybody listen carefully. The cleaning starts, furniture is moved and poor Audwin that has just woken up has to move from one corner to the other just to drink his cup of coffee. It is the genocide for the ants and the spider nests, the Cobra wax and the Handy Andy (South African multi surface cleaner) invades the living area, the tents and any area that can be cleaned. Lilepe comes and goes, delegating all his tasks to the other poor workers that just past by in front of him. But at 11am, the floor is shining and the tents are clean, Viegas has done an excellent job. And Gato, the camp cat, sleeps.
Tigre is in the kitchen preparing lunch; making sure that the quantities will be enough for the clients and himself. If you see him you will have the feeling that his big belly will soon explode with the amount of food that he eats.
12am Radio time, Tigre comes from the kitchen with his mouth full of food and takes the mazaroca- Posto no ar? – Oh no! the horse (tata truck)is broken and the tinga tinga (tractor) too. Tigre yells, nobody hears, the “temperatura esta fraca” (the temperature is low!); one of the reasons why nobody hears Tigre on the radio! Mama Paula is upset - Why have these drivers broken the trucks again? - Pemba is not on the radio. It is Sunday; this is the reason. And suddenly the land cruiser noise comes closer and closer, Number One arrives with his sun burnt client and in the back of his car, the trackers, Sabadi smoking and Viegas sleeping.
Lunch on the table, Gato and Le Chiffre (if you have seen Casino Royal, Le chiffre is the bad guy in the movie, he has a funny eye, just like our cat) are around our feet. Few cold drinks and we are all ready for a hot siesta before the afternoon drive. At the same time the Vervet monkeys, full of nonsense, search the living area, Palacio and the tents for items they can steal and eat. And Gato sleeps.
3:30 pm Derek, the client that smells a mix of Skin so soft and Detol to fight the tzes tzes flies and his trackers go out for a second run. The camp gets hotter and hotter. Lilepe and Tigre are still dreaming, the monkey has destroyed half of the kitchen and Mama Paula and her magic finger are trying to get the guys to work again. But suddenly Mama Paula gets sidetracked.



Walking from the kitchen to the living area on the river, a group of 5 elephants come to drink; it is so beautiful that there are no words to describe it. They are all bull elephants, maybe 15 to 20 years old, happily splashing water over their bodies. And in the sky our resident Brown Kite flies around looking for food. The Egyptian Gooses are around making all sorts of funny noises. The strange looking Marabous with their peculiar looking heads hunt for any bicho on the river flats. The Mbamba Mountain starts to change color, some describe it as a lady with different sized breasts, for me is like the Little Prince of St Exulpéry, a big snake that ate an elephant. This place is so amazing, so magical and so pure. Mama Paula sits for few minutes in the bench and relaxes, waiting for the workers to appear.
4:30 pm Kitchen, living area and tents are clean again, Madala Mbamba with his little shorts and long socks is watering the grass, the cats are hunting for birds and one of the tractors is back from the bush with fire wood. Lilepe is getting dress with his best uniform, long dark pants and a white shirt. But note if there is a woman in camp he puts his bow tie to impress them. Lilepe prepares the glasses, the ice and the bottles of scotch and rum – we have to remember that he is not only our best waiter he was named the best barman in Pemba Beach Hotel, and he is very proud of that.
6:00 pm it is dark. The radio is on again; there is more noise that voices. Once more is only Ndapata that can relay the messages. Tigre screams few words. Kantandika needs 15 days to go to Tanzania to see the witch doctor, a special place where everything gets cure and all your problems get solve; he is with leprosy and the western medicine is not doing any effect. Mama Paula gives him permission to go. But it is difficult to believe that with teas and psychology Katandika will be fixed. Macanha Camp speaks: Macanha is ready for Dave’s client. Motorola – informs that a crocodile has bitten one of the fishermen, it was 5:00 pm the fisherman was sleeping and the crocodile attack. And at 5:30 the fishermen came to camp to inform. Tigre calls Romeo November (the main camp for Niassa Reserve) – Romeo November, Lusingi? – Whisky Eco gets the info about the fisherman. He will fly in the Cheetah tomorrow morning.



All the news are finish, everybody give the regards to all the radio speakers and to Number One and Mama. The radio is off.
6:30 pm Derek and his client arrive with a cloud of dust and few tze tze flies around them. The Trackers are drunk and singing. The car is full of branches. We all know what this means. The client has a lion. All the camp staff comes running, singing and dancing. The party starts, the kitchen staff prepares a big meal, drinks get out of the freezer, and the bar gets busy. There is music and hunting stories in the air. After few beers and scotches a good shower will get the smelly day and give some energy for a long night. Gato and Le Chiffre run away having a lion in camp is too scary.


7:30 pm, Trackers, Skinners, tractor drivers, few scouts and the safari camp staff are singing and preparing a sketch about how the hunter got his lion. The trackers use long sticks like rifles, two cans of beer like the pair of binos and they start to entertain the crowd. All laugh. The river bed is alive singing and dancing, “Festa, Festa, Viva Luwire, Viva Derek, Viva cliente, Viva!” (Party, Party, Long live Luwire, Long live Derek, Long live the client, Long live!). Food arrives and drinks are distributed, Rhino Gin is their favorite a kind of poison that our staff loves to drink and when it finish Lilepe share out our Absolut Vodka, that for the workers taste the same. And Tigre eats the left over quiet in the kitchen.
It is 8:30 pm, the effect of the Rhino Gin is visible and the songs are louder. The client and Mama Paula join the dancers, all dance and dance… Later, half of the people disappear in the dark; they are all going to bed.
It is 4am the trackers are still singing, the tractor drivers are sleep laying in the sand, and Viegas is asking for another beer to help his head to get better. Lilepe half sleep half drunk wakes up with his powerful alarm. “Licença Patrão, Licença”! And another day starts in one of the camps of Luwire.

Excerpts from an African Diary

 Another short excerpt from my Diary from last year. I spent a number of days alone, except for a skeleton crew of staff.  Januario," January" in English is basically the ruler of the Luchenge camp and he makes a mean Egg and Steak Breakfast as well. He is always "matter of fact" but with humor! My cohorts that are also responsible for this Blog are all busy covering up _ _ _ _! like a cat. Well they are making presentations, budget reports, new plans for next year, and generally taking care of whatever is required of them to continue to operate in the Reserve. Thus at this time there has been no voice other than myself tauting the beauty and rawness of Niassa Reserve. So I continue as best I can with what I felt and wrote last year while there. I hope it doesn't bore you so much.

Another day in Block C

Sitting here in a bush camp in Block C of the Reserve and listening to a Baboon barking down the way along the banks of the Rio Lugenda, (probably at a passing Leopard or probably nothing at all,) the air is blessed with a small breeze warm to the touch. The sounds are minimal as the noon hour approaches and most birds and the like that have chattered all morning and are looking for a cool place to sit and cool while the noon day heat passes. Januario begins the noonday radio broadcast to the other various camps searching for news, listening to the latest and noting the different requests by others. Supplies needed for the various camps stretched up and down the 200 kilometer stretch of Lugenda River that makes up Block C and then to the north in Block A to the border of Tanzania, beyond the American owned Block B. A total distance of over 400 Kilometers that will take you just over four days of very hard driving to navigate end to end.

Its warm but the breeze has started up, hopefully to continue on into the night. Looking out across the river, very low at this time of year and at this particular spot, “Luchenge Camp”, its approximately a quarter to a half mile wide. The main channel keeps to the middle and fingers still hold water going in and out around sand bars and banks that have only come to be seen this month as the water recedes. Four Kudu Cows come to drink on the far side as well as a family of warthogs. I’m no stranger to them as they are regulars and often spook each other coming and going down the same narrow trail for their afternoon sip.

I think of the Bat Hawk we saw the night before as I look down off the bank to the floor of the river below the camp where we waded, talked, cooled off and drank the remains of sundowners when a young Bull Elephant chased us up the bank to the dinning room showing us just how close we can get to nature here.

Not a manmade sound can be heard, only a dove calling and the splash of a Kingfisher fishing for his supper out in front in a pool of the river. The Kudu and Wart hogs have returned up the far bank and drifted into the bush to places unknown to me. I look and listen but there is only silence for now as the sun lights the sides of the mountains of granite to my right and a black tail kite floats past.

Diffenent Day, Same Place.

I called my wife on the sat phone just before the sun set. All is well. In the dinning room bats fly by catching fresh bugs, Elephants talk to each other across the river in short blasts of their music, The night birds are waking up along with the crickets, frogs and various other voices of the night. What’s on the menu for tonight I wonder, Hyenas calling, Lions, Leopards more Elephants and a few Bush Babies I’m sure. I try not to go to sleep to soon when I lay down and all gets quiet except for the bush. I want to hear it all, its unnervingly romantic and soothing all at the same time. Januario is here with supper. I put on a little music and pour a drink, rum and orange juice tonight as an old Eagles song comes on the IPod. There’s no ice though, the generator has been off most of the day. Not important, it doesn’t get any better.

Don Januario brings my supper, eggs with cheese and fried potatoes, Baboons are barking in the distance. I cut the music so I can listen. They stop and I have to ask myself if they were protesting the music or a Leopard looking up at them from the Bush below their tree. I feel like a shower and bed. Don Januario comes back to clear the table and I look for my rifle to take the walk to my quarters. A good night on the Lugenda continues.

Last night was nothing short of a great scene from a movie. I slept 30 ft off the ground in a small sleeping porch erected by my hosts for various reasons not the least of which is to sleep in the trees looking at the stars, listening to Africa mill around in the dark below, and Africa was busy last night. From the different locations of the sounds made by the different elephants that fed below me I would estimate at lest 8-9 were busy stripping limbs and breaking branches and in general having a great meal. I dozed off and on as they munched below, an occasional trumpet would signal something to somebody. I tried putting a torch on an especially close individual but the thick vegetation prevented me seeing him and I quickly turned off. All was quite for sometime and I assumed that they had moved off without me knowing, they can be quite silent as they travel when they want. However they were still there, I began hearing, very almost quite snores, answered by little guttural rumbles from first one, then another. I assumed they were locating each other, this went on till I dozed off, and they were gone when the birds and monkeys woke me at dawn. I watched the last shooting star of the night burn out across the darker part of the horizon.

Later same day,

The afternoon sun finally dips low enough to intrude into the dinning room where I sit and write. The glare is a bit obnoxious but the heat is what I dread. All today has been warm, very warm. I have taken several cold showers and had the idea to go out looking for a big Hippo at about 7.30, after morning coms with whoever, but after I had a bowl of cereal at about 7.45 I decided that I could wait till the afternoon and then the clouds vanished and the wind laid and the heat intensified and well, I called it off. I just sat and wrote and read and called Sandi on the Sat Phone, then I called Mareth, then I sat and wrote some more and read some more, then lunch came, spaghetti and some sort of concoction from the last three previous meals to spread on top I suppose. It always interests me to see what will turn up when the stores run low. I don’t even have a cook here at present, they are off seeking affection from their many wives, but Januario is in form and is happy to experiment on me. It was filling and I remember the radio request I made to Pemba for rations. Rum, Whiskey and Tooth Paste. Note to self. In the morning also request potatoes, potatoes and maybe a little fruit. Meat is no problem, I have dined as if in the best Argentine Steak House. Everything from Kudu, Bushbuck, Wart Hog, Reedbuck etc. etc. and I would like to inquire what kind of "Rub" Januario is using, but I think it is his own concoction and I am better off letting that sleeping dog lie. The monkeys have made several forays at the place today and I have thrown my share of Baobab fruit at them but they will not be denied it seems as I can see them in mass on the peripheral of my baobab fruit tossing range, waiting for their chance but not today, I am firmly entrenched. I haven’t any need for anything, except a visit from my wife. No, I have tunes on the iPod, good rum, a sat phone to contact anyone I deem necessary to hear my voice and those are few, very few, yes this is a good place, its one of those "you can’t call me but if I want to I can call you places." I think you could market that very thought. What say you pay me to take you to a place where no one can contact you? What would that be worth to you? Let me know maybe I can arrange something for a nominal fee. Well believe it or not it just began to rain, excuse me while I walk out and feel the first rain of the year here.

Later,

There is something about being the only white man on appox. 6 thousand square kilometers of African Bush. It either gives you a smile or makes you a bit apprehensive. I suppose for me its what I always wanted and is the closest thing to being like the old boys were, out there by the seat of their pants making  calluses on their hands and blisters on their feet. They were satisfied and that’s all they wanted. No one saw it but them! No one wrote down the stories for the most part, they existed only as long as they were alive, but when they died the stories died with them. And that was ok, cause they didn’t live it for no one else other than themselves. They gave one hell of a sacrifice. They most often sacrificed a long life back at home for the quick death of injury by the claw and tooth or the slow death of disease. Some never had the pleasure of holding their first born much less seeing them grow to adulthood. But why you say? Well if you don’t know the answer to that then you wouldn’t understand if I explained.

It is what it is and it is for the few, damn the critics.

 The Niassa Sun sets in the West, the wind blows up another thunderstorm, Robert Earl Keen plays I’m coming home on the stereo and I sip my rum and coke. Life is good out here in Niassa. I’m sitting here in God knows where thinking about the real world, or the fake world, whatever, I like this better, you should try it. AP

Some Photos to get Started, These from Bryan Allen

Drawn to the Flame

As it goes with me, I first feel that invisible magnetic pull as my compass starts spinning wildly and perks my senses as to a change of venue being eminent. I debate where on earth my next bed will be rolled out, as this “magnetic effect” descends on my consciousness and a familiar little “black and blue” angel arrives on my shoulder and begins violently whispering in my ear as with an Electric Megaphone… threatening!