Nyerere National Park, in southern Tanzania, is about the size of Switzerland. There are parts of the park that till this very day, man has not set foot on. The reason is because those areas are infested with tsetse flies. The tsetse flies are about 1.5 cm long and feed on the blood of mammals. The sensation of a tsetse fly’s bite is like being jabbed by a hot, one centimeter steel needle and then the needle is broken off and left in your body. The jab site becomes red, swells like a cherry tomato and the horrendous pain of the bite remains constant and throbs for two weeks. The fly can drink its own body weight in blood in a single meal. If the fly is carrying the sleeping sickness protozoa, you get infected, lose your appetite, become lethargic, waste away and eventually die.
I once was in a Land Rover in the park in the middle of a bright day when the car was suddenly swarmed by thousands of tsetse flies. They flash descended onto the windows and the swarm was so thick that it blocked out all light. Within seconds, it was totally dark in the vehicle and the buzz of the flies was deafening. The driver stopped and turned on the window wipers and at first the wipers could not move. When the wipers began to move, we saw that the flies were three centimeters deep. The motion of the wipers killed a few of the flies and spread blood all over the windshield. This blood made the other flies go berserk, attacking the wipers and thus producing more blood on the windshield. We could not drive on the narrow dirt track as the blood and flies were blocking the view. So we remained frozen, thinking we would not survive the day. Then, just as suddenly as they appeared, they left. It is for this reason that parts of the park are devoid of all human activities.
One fine day, the charter service that we used often called and offered to fly us for free to a luxury campsite in Nyerere Park. They explained that the reason for the offer was that two of their six-seater aircraft were flying empty to pick up a group of tourists. We did the math, paying for just the return trip was akin to getting the excursion at half price, so we hopped aboard.
On arrival at the grass strip, the group that was leaving told us that we were going to have a memorable trip, but we were wondering why they were laughing when they told us so and that too, only after they loaded their luggage onto the planes. During the ride to the campsite, the camp director said that he had some good news and some bad news. The good news was that two of us would be sleeping in the tent that Prince Bernhard had slept in for the past week. The prince was then the president of the World Wildlife Fund. The bad news? The bad news was that the prince had not slept the previous night as a pride of lions had parked themselves in the camp and were roaring all night.
When you are in the bush, you will constantly hear birds and insects chirping. From time to time, you will hear the barks and grunts of animals that you cannot yet see. If you pay attention, you will hear a small creature or snake moving through the fallen leaves. Most will hear the wind blowing over or thru the trees and you can even hear the leaves rustling. When danger approaches, all these sounds stop in an instant! It becomes perfectly silent and even the wind stops. Everything is warned that something is hunting. All prey know to keep still and be on super alert for other danger signs.
A pride of roaring lions is a well-fed pride. They are not hungry and roar to announce their presence or satisfaction. So, we drew straws for the tent with the most paw marks. The winner had second thoughts though as when he saw his tent site, he counted the paw prints of thirteen lioness and cubs around it.
The Rufiji River which runs through the park, is also called the "River of Sands." It is a shallow river and in a lot of parts it is wider than a kilometer. In some places, there often is more sand than water and the water flows in shallow runs between sandbanks. The main channel changes course constantly on the plains. In other places, the course is somewhat permanent with hippos claiming their own pools or domain. Nile crocodiles patrol the entire river. The Rufiji also has huge tigerfish. Tigerfish are the only freshwater fish that can leap and catch birds in mid-flight. One would need more than a thousand words to describe the power of tigerfish teeth so here is a photograph.
Our campsite was on a sand cliff that was about fifteen meters above the water level. The river front section had a huge, five-hundred-year-old baobab tree that was at least six meters wide at the ground level. Baobab trees in E. Africa are considered places of magic/spirits and traditional medicine men like conducting their business under them. Like all magical places, believers feel that the bigger the tree or building, the more powerful is the intercession of the person in command of the spot. A circular enclosure under this tree, made with steel poles, corrugated iron sheets and wrapped with mosquito gauge, served as an observation point and bar. The spot offered a gorgeous, uninterrupted view of the breadth of the river. This spot was especially pleasing in the evening as when the heat eased, animals hesitantly approached the water for a drink. From this vantage spot, you could see a dozen species of animals at their chosen drinking spots.
One fisherman in our group had radio called the camp earlier and ordered bait for fish. The local bait was the skin, guts and any other parts of an animal that are not normally eaten. These unrefrigerated parts were wrapped with fiber into a hockey ball size bait for catfish - who hunt by smell. The smellier the bait, the more bewitching it is to them. Our fanatic fisherman went straight from the aircraft to the dock and cast his lines.
The rest of our group made a reverential stop by the baobab tree bar to pay our respects to the spirits there. The magical bar never had a barman but operated on the honour system. Whenever you took a drink from the cool box, you noted the drink on a card with your name on it and at the end of the stay, you settled your bill. Else, the karma baobab tree would settle it for you.
Well, there was somewhat of a transcendental miscalculation awaiting us at the bar that day. The previous group had brought in crates of different flavored schnapps but as they got messed up on their final (celebratory?) night, they had bequeathed their excess supplies to the tree. The camp director said we were welcome to those as long as we paid for the ice - which is sometimes worth more than gold when you are in the bush. As most of you know, some brands of schnapps have gold flakes in them, so we decided to attack those cryptic bottles first.
We all were enjoying the er, golden sunset when a camp worker approached us and voiced that our fisherman asked for the Goan to meet him at the dock.
I found out that the pathway to the river was cut out off the sand chiff and that the slope was at a 45-degree angle. I knew that this sort of inclination had a purpose as, if you are pulling a wagon while descending, the wagon will soon run you over. Dragging a wagon with a boat engine or other heavy load up the slope would require at least four strong men. I later found out that slope was cut at that angle so that hippos and crocodiles would not attempt the trek up to the camp.
When I saw my fishing buddy, by the way his five-meter-long rod was bending I knew that he had a huge catfish on. Catfish in the Rufiji can be about the size of a large motorbike. They are longer, as thick and almost as deep as a 500cc bike. These catfish have huge stomachs with the surrounding areas made up of fat. They are also tangerine in colour and when I say tangerine, I mean the colour of the sweetest, ripest tangerine you have ever eaten. Why catfish need that colour on a sandy river in wildest Africa is another one of nature’s mysteries.
My buddy knew what he had and he also knew that I knew what he had. After some time of no budging, I wished him well with the fight and went back to my perch at the bar. It was six o'clock and I expected the catfish to flounce around for at least ten minutes before the real fight began. An hour later, the levels in the schnapps bottles were going down faster than the sun, but there was no call from the fisherman. Two hours later, the fisherman was still trying to get the fish to budge. The sun set and it was now prime danger time. Animals who were drinking by the water were now being eyed by nocturnal animals that prey on them. Apart from land-based carnivores, waiting in the river were Nile crocodiles who do not hesitate to attack animals bigger than themselves. In addition, when a crocodile senses commotion in the water, it will straight away swim to that source - often making short work of anything in distress - like a hooked fish being pulled up.
When darkness envelops the African bush, that creature that causes the most deaths in Africa raises its head and goes on its death spreading undertaking - mosquitoes. Mosquitoes and all sorts of other biting insects are attracted to light so if you turn on a torch while fishing, you are immediately swarmed by tens of species of insects. At 9:00 pm, I slip slidded down to the fisherman - who was squatting in pitch darkness - and told him that he had better call it a night and stop fishing. I suggested that he cut his line and come up to the bar and enjoy the company of his friends. The fisherman absolutely refused to cut his line. In the end, I persuaded him to tie the fishing rod to a post and see if the fish was still there in the morning.
We got back to the spellbinding bar to find one of our favourite home-made tapes in the tape recorder. All of us knew the sequence to the songs on that cassette. A little while later, we were all in great spirits singing "Sweet Caroline" in the lantern light when I got a lesson on how fine-tuned some fishermen are. At the point in Sweet Caroline where you sing "pum, pum, pum," the fisherman leaped from his seat and ran down the ramp. One ear of his had been tuned to his reel and he heard it run. This was the moment he was waiting for!
It took him but twenty minutes to reel in the two-meter-long catfish. After the pictures were taken, the fish was given to the workers and we half crawled up the slope and back into the bar. Ten minutes later a worker came to us carrying a meter long crocodile. I was so sure he was going to claim that the catfish had turned into a crocodile, but he said that they had found it in the catfish's stomach and that it was still alive when they gutted the fish. It seemed that the catfish, which was probably holed up in a hiding place, could not resist another passing meal.
There is a bittersweet perpetuity to this tale though. Every time I meet my old fishing buddy, which is once every few years, he always greets me with excitement and starts recounting every good fish fight he had since we last met.
I listen intently even though I know that at some point he will inquire if I have ever cut my line when I know that there is a fish on it.
Mervyn
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