Hunting is a part of life here. People hunt for food and tourists hunt for sport, bringing money to the area. Lodges are situated all along the Luangwa river and run for the hunters that come from the beginning of July to the end of October. Each area has a quota of animals which can be killed without damaging the ecosystem and hunters pay a high price for the privilege, so the game is fiercely protected to make hunting a sustainable industry, but as with all things there are people who think they are outside the law.
This crocodile tried to take a man outside the village, so it had to be hunted and shot.
On the way to Mwape this morning Gulam radioed to inform us that poachers had been caught in the area. They had killed two female elephants and removed their tusks, but while trying to cross a river with the ivory they were taken by local people. The fury facing poachers should be an efficient deterrent. These men faced a tough time at the local police station, followed by transportation to Lusaka and months awaiting trial. The likely sentence was life in prison. This was a tough one. Poaching is reprehensible by any standard, but seeing those men and the fear and desperation in their eyes was difficult to deal with. We were told that these would be local men, paid off by black market ivory dealers. Catching these men did not do anything to solve the underlying problem, and it's unlikely that they even knew who their employers were.
Our day in Mwape definitely helped to lift our spirits. As we were shown around the village we gathered a crowd of kids wildly excited to make friends with the strangers and competing with each other to hold our hands. We split into three groups and every time we saw another group in the distance a clamour would go up. It put me in mind of us on safari, spotting... well anything at all!
Hilary with her most devoted followers.
The little boy in the green shorts in the photo above is called Smart. A lot of the people here have lovely names like this, either qualities their parents wish to bestow, Smart, Charity, Joy, or names letting them know how special they are. Precious, Gift, Princess. When Dad was born it was the custom to name your child after the first thing you saw when they were born. He knew a lot of Towels.
Chieftainess Mwape laid out a veritable feast for our lunch, with nchima, carrot salad, green beans, boiled potatoes and goat stew. Goat is surprisingly delicious. Nchima is a staple carbohydrate in Zambia and it is made by pounding maize into a fine flour, then cooking it while water is stirred in. The result could be used as mortar. It is thick and glutinous and doesn't really taste like anything, but it is remembered with a misty-eyed nostalgia by Zambian ex-pats. It is the ultimate alibi food, but Zambians are so fond of it that it has been made their official national dish.
While we were there, the constantly canny Chieftainess persuaded us to buy cloth from their village shop. Ladies in Zambia wear sarongs called chitenge and these are made from a long stretch of brightly coloured and patterned cloth. There were some lovely patterns in the shop and I bought myself a 15ft bolt of waxed cotton. When we get home I shall make a skirt.
P.S. I made the skirt. It's awesome.
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