Magical Moments

November 17, 2014 Jen

With a chubby little finger pointing at the computer screen my youngest little angel asks with a lisp in her voice what I am doing. I explain that I am putting a calendar together to sell to make some money for Chengeta Wildlife to enable Rory Young to train the rangers and save the elephants. She nods vigorously as I take a deep breath, waiting for the next question but a comfortable silence ensues and she goes back to her drawing, which is of course an elephant…all be it a rather strange looking one.

Our little wildlife warriors

The following day, they both burst through our front door desperate to get to me first shouting, ‘Hold out your hand Gog, and close your eyes.’ I am always a little suspicious as I don’t want any unwelcome visitors plopping into my palm. However this time, I look down and I have a shiny 50p coin and 4 copper 1p’s sitting snugly in the creases of my palm. ‘That is for Chengeta Wildlife, so Rory can save the elephants, and if you need more we will find you some.’ They sound like to two excited chipmunks and I am immensely proud of them.

I bring up an image of an elephant that our daughter (their Mum) Mikaela drew many years ago and show it to them both.

‘Wow’ their mouths form perfect 0’s, ‘when did mummy draw this?’

I look down at the beautiful pencil drawing and a storm of memories flood in. I have not thought about this particular trip for years. It is a gentle reminder on why I am so passionate about being involved with Chengeta Wildlife.

Mikaela’s drawing of the elephant we watched on that magical afternoon many years ago

The huge tattered ears fan out and even from a distance we can see that this is not an elephant enjoying the tranquility of a perfect summer’s moment. Her trumpet of rage bounces off the low hanging clouds as she skids to a halt, a golden cloud of dust haloing around her vast wrinkled body. Her large noble head is lowered in an aggresive stance and her scythe like tusks protrude, battle scarred and menacing. The fresh sweet smell of urine and elephant dung carries on the breeze and I turn to Gary, Mikaela and Ben. ‘She is magnificent’, I mutter quietly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Behind her the acacia trees adorned in leafy splendour tremble as she marches, kicking through the shallow waters edge, an explosion of silver droplets showering down. She is a shimmering gauzy cloud of energy. She claims the bank as her own, her large powerful trunk with it’s deep fissures whipping from side to side and I am sure I can see the fire burning in her eyes.

We sit silently, watching spellbound from the safety of our boat. We have no idea what has upset her. The stillness returns, broken by the gentle gurgle of the river as it caresses the side of the boat. A fish eagle cleaves through the air and the low cloud parts allowing a shaft of sunlight to glint off the white tail feathers as the majestic bird swoops down, large talons outstretched skimming the gleaming surface and plucking out an unsuspecting fish, leaving only a gentle ripple as her powerful wings give her flight. I turn my attention back to the elephant on the bank and to my astonishment, the herd is spilling out from the elongated shadows and ambling down to the snaking river. We watch as they lower their trunks into the river sucking up deep drafts of life giving water, quenching their thirst before throwing warm Zambezi sand over their backs. Small calves rough and tumble, their wrinkled trunks entwined and their shrill calls carry across the undulating river. A swirl of water alerts us to the presence of a large croc: a medevil serpent as it closes in on the shallows, it’s long tail licking the surface laviciously. I pull my gaze away from the menacing croc, shuddering at the thought of those iron jaws. Searching the bank, I am amazed to find that the small herd of elephants have vanished, melting into the deep shadows of the clammy afternoon. Deep rumbles vibrate through the air and although I can no longer see them, I can feel their presence.

In this open air amphitheater, zebra bend in stripey unison, ears pricked and wary eyes watchful as they take a drink in the long shadows of late afternoon. Buffalo swagger with exaggerated arrogance, snorting and formidable in their numbers. Their imposing horns spread outward and downwards from their large heads before curling up and around. Their powerful and muscled bodies are bejeweled with tick birds, their personal ‘bug cleaning service’. Like souls open wide to the breeze, we cherish what the afternoon has offered…a special place where one can lose touch with the material world. The cloud has given way to a clear evening sky and as the horizon is being stitched with a golden thread, we sadly reel in the fishing lines. I fight with the knot that holds the boat to the dry tree stump, pushing away as Gary fires up the engine. Dodging the grunting hippos we race like the wind back to camp where we will welcome a night full of crickets and other wonderful African bush melodies.

A few days later, we heard that a couple of elephants had been poached. The bearer of this bad news, a wizened African man with his iron grey tight curls and toothless grin was pointing towards our fishing spot and we wondered if this could have explained the female elephant’s agitation. We had heard of poachers crossing the mighty Zambezi river from Zambia in their dug out canoes. Maybe our presence had not been welcome to this herd who unbeknownst to us might have been grieving.

This storm of memory has made me feel a little heart sore and homesick for this magical place where the air smells cleaner and sky appears to be as high as it is wide. I remember the gut wrenching feeling of helpless anger at the thought of two of these giants lying bloated and rotting in the African bush. I find it difficult to describe the deep yearning that I have for the African bush and the magical wildlife that we shared our fishing trips with….however, I do know that I have to try and help to preserve it…for the animals.

When we talk about the poaching of elephants and rhinos…it always comes back to the same point. Corruption and greed..... and more corruption and greed.

CONSUMERS OF IVORY….THIS IS THE TRUE COST OF IVORY TRINKETS

China has 37 licensed carving factories and calls to shut down these factories are studiously ignored. Zhao Shucong is the man who approves the licensing of these state sanctioned factories…all in the name of ivory trinkets.

I am not there to enjoy it but I am determined that Chengeta Wildlife, with a little help from me…can preserve these magical places that used to be abundant with elephants and other wildlife.

YOU CAN SUPPORT CHENGETA WILDLIFE TOO

Worth More Alive

September 1, 2014 Jen

It is coming up 9 years since I was last in Zimbabwe. My family call it, ‘my 9 years of living without elephants.’

It seems a lifetime since I have been embraced by the warm sultry breeze and lain under the luminous African half moon hanging suspended in the dark night sky. I can’t remember when I last watched the stinging needle like rain dancing across the river or Lake Kariba: a curtain raiser to a fiery sunset before it slips below the horizon. Memories of the golden silence of early evening where the shimmering leaves appear to be holding their breath tease my mind. Africa’s giants ghost into view, puffing up small whirls of dust that appear to hang motionless. Their matriarch, her large and noble head held high, swings her trunk back and forth. She is at one with the peace that only early evening can bring. Despite her heavy bulk of 7 000 Kg , she has the lightness and grace of a dancer. She is an ambassador for her kind, ‘Loxodonta africana.’ These sentient creatures ooze with personality: their wrinkled expressions: fold upon fold of intelligence as they amble down to the river where they partake in a social ritual of water spraying, wading and mud throwing.

There is far more to elephants than meets the eye. Inside those large and noble heads, a complex and intricate organ resides which makes me ask like many others before me,‘do elephants surpass other animals in wit and mind?’ The memory of watching this herd interact with each other and the show of love and empathy still makes me wonder,’when thinking about the intelligence of these animals, do we compare them to other animals or should we compare them to humans?’

Ask yourselves this question, ‘what does it say about us humans when elephants and rhinos are worth more dead than alive?’

Video link of rhino – Evidence of the brutality of poachers in South Africa has surfaced once again with a shocking video of another badly mutilated rhino in Kruger National Park.

With the strong currents of change seeping across the world I often feel like we are moving towards realms of the unknown. I close my eyes tightly, desperately holding onto these wonderful memories that keep threatening to spool away. My nine years without seeing African elephants leaves an emptiness deep inside..and this is the point of what I am writing today. When we used to do our numerous trips to the valley encountering these wild and noble animals..my heart would sing. However, we took it for granted that on our next visit..there they would be, ambling through the camp, feeding on the acacia pods and frolicking in the river and they never disappointed us with their absence.

Now 9 years on..my heart trembles..will they be there on our return? The thought of the African bush without these ambassadors, sadly could become a reality. We cannot afford to look the other way. DO NOT TAKE THEIR PRESENCE FOR GRANTED. We need to be fighting to ensure that these magnificent animals remain in the wild.

I cannot sit and do nothing: I can describe the pain and torment that these animals experience and raise awareness through my writing and poetry. However, I need to do more. This is not a violent storm that is bullying its way through the African bush. This is a dark menacing chaos of greed, corruption and ruthless killers who are turning this sun burnt bush into a wild sweltering inferno: flames devouring any animal with tusks and horns. At the rate these animals are being poached: mortality shadows them.

How can we do more?

I am supporting the brave men and women on the ground who are putting their lives on the line to ensure the safety of the wildlife.

Chengeta Wildlife

Rangers and scouts are brave men who risk their lives to protect wildlife. They may face heavily armed poachers, sometimes ex-guerrilla fighters hired by ivory smuggling syndicates. These rangers need to have the best training and anti-poaching strategy possible and that is what Chengeta Wildlife provide.

PLEASE DO NOT LOOK THE OTHER WAY

Lisa Groenweg had decided that she could not turn a blind eye to the destruction and started Chengeta Wildlife. She shook up fellow Quora members by raising a huge amount of money in 24 hours….showing that where there is a will to participate and make a difference..it happens

I am proud to be a part of this amazing group of people supporting Chengeta Wildlife which through Rory Young have developed an Anti Poaching Strategy which can be used throughout Africa.

Rory Young and Yakov Alekseyev have written ‘A Field Manual For Anti-Poaching Activities.’

A manual well worth reading..and full of information. It provides intense and detailed evaluation of how to decipher even the smallest and at times what might appear to be unimportant detail and encompass it all into the strategy. In the preface they talk about the fact that our existence clings to the fragile towers that are made up of innumerable life forms that we share this beautiful world with. When individual species are destroyed, we change their impact on the ecosystems and eventually the towers will begin to crumble and fall…causing a domino effect. We have to be incredibly egotistical to believe that we can survive without these ecosystems.

I loved the analogy between Robin Hood and the poachers. It made it so simple to understand that the people in the community have got to view the authorities as the representatives of and partners of the community. It is also important that the community see the poachers as a threat and not the other way around. It does not matter how well equipped the authorities are..if they don’t have the people on sides..it will be a waste of time and money. The Sheriff of Nottingham failed to apprehend Robin Hood..and failed to punish him..and as a result there was was also a failure of deterrence.

This manual should be a companion for every ranger throughout Africa.

WHAT CAN YOU DO ?

Support the men on the ground

Chengeta Wildlife

The Tashinga Initiative

MAPP

One last thought: As the warm rays of sun pay their last respects to the mellow day in this sun burnt land, the heavy silence of loss ushers twilight into darkness. If we don’t unite against this rampant poaching: the African bush could be facing a future minus these animals: the very essence that adds to the Africa’s magic.

Up Close and Personal With An Elephant

August 25, 2014 Jen

In January 2014 the cold wet winter was beginning to gnaw at my bones and my feet seemed to be in a constant state of numbness.

‘I am panicking, Gary. My feet are so numb that I can no longer feel the throb of Africa beneath them. I have got to get out and see some wildlife.’ I smile pathetically. ‘I suppose Zimbabwe is not an option?’

We settle on a day trip to Whipsnade Zoo. Our two little girls bob along excited to be out to see the elephants which their ‘Gog’ (me) goes on and on about. Dark brooding clouds tower high and accompanied by an angry growl of thunder, the heavens open and rain like a thick drape has us sprinting for cover. We stand with our noses pressed against the glassed doors of a restaurant waiting patiently for the sun to struggle through the thick blanket of clouds. Once the heavens stopped scowling down on us and veiled in a gauzy haze we venture out to see the animals.

I have nothing negative to say about Whipsnade Zoo. They do have outside fields to meander through.

However..a lump the size of a green apple is lodged firmly in my throat as I watch the elephants: ‘Prisoners of the times we are living in’ and I feel sad for them.

Our two little angels are full of starlight, fizzing over with excitment. They have been so close to real live elephants. Real live elephants..I drift off.. a funny little smile shaping my lips and my butt muscles twitch and tighten. Real live elephants in the bush..and a little too close for comfort. I think back to one of our fishing trips in the Zambezi Valley.

Our small green canvas tent sits like a blot under the large acacia tree. The guy ropes are strung taut keeping us upright in this wild paradise. The dry parched earth rolls down to the vast Zambezi river and small puffs of dust hang motionless in the still afternoon before freckling lightly over the tinder dry vegetation. The expansive river glistens: undulating in the mellow warmth of the late afternoon. A lone vervet monkey stares down from the low hanging branch. With the stealth and speed of a professional thief he shinnies down, grabbing a couple of bananas not a foot away from my chair and disappears into the high branches…raising his eyebrows..and grinning at my dumbfounded expression.

Warmth spreads like sunshine on my soul. Life does not get much better than this. Squadrons of midges and flies hover with summer laziness, irritating but also a part of evolution’s slow magic.

On the edge of earth and heaven, the large golden sun breaks free from the brooding clouds bathing the bush in a warm coppery glow. A solitary bull elephant ambles along the rich banks of the Zambezi river,tearing up grass and hyacinth with his large and rather formidable trunk. His weather worn tusks sweep out in front and although he is close, I focus in on him through the binoculars and can see the deeply incised grass-notch an inch or two from the tip of his right tusk. Bronzed by the afternoon glare and scolded by the fork tailed drongo he is surely one of the most noble and dignified animals in the animal kingdom. He continues to sway as light as a dancer and I feel my heart sink as he disappears out of sight. The air continues to pulse with a subliminal rumble you feel rather than hear. African Jacanas trot lightly over a rich carpet of water hyacinth boasting beautiful blue flowers and I am certain I can hear fish slapping the water. Evening stitches the horizon with the last of its golden thread. The liquid murmur of the river and the evocative call of the fish eagle brings the perfect afternoon to a close. The day has slipped through my fingers.

The smoke from the mopani fire helps to keep the mosquitoes at bay and we sit relaxed and happy listening to the hippo grunting and a cacophony of frogs and crickets. Africa’s nights are never lonely. Too soon we are lying in our minute tent, fingers entwined listening to the wind flirting with the trees and a distant echo of a throaty roar. There is peace in the solitude and I close my eyes drifting in that wondrous space between wakefulness and sleep.

As tender beams from the African half moon peek gently through the gauze window, the tree above us explodes and acacia pods come raining down. I sit bolt upright as Gary puts his hand firmly over my mouth whispering to me to be quiet. Peeping out the small gauze window of the tent, the most enormous wrinkled and abrasive looking back legs are blocking my view. The bull is leaning his full weight against the tree and rocking it back and forth, his large holed ears folded back onto his massive shoulders. The three foot of thick wiry hair on the end of his four foot tail, all 8 to 10 kgs of it thrashes the gauze window not an inch from my face. The metallic taste of blood clogs my throat and I realize I am biting down on my lip. Time has stood still. The pungent smell of urine invades the tent as he lets forth with a warm stream that surges onto the parched earth . I am mesmerized as he turns side on rasping back and forth along the tree, his gigantic backside firmly on the guy rope. Our small tent whirs back and forth..feeble in its stance. Rumbling with pleasure, his large trunk swings freely as the finger like nobes on the end fold over the juicy pods and they start the epic journey from tent top to his mouth. This ambassador of the wild appears to cross the moonlight disappearing quietly and with dignity into the dark shadows. Silence returns to the valley and the liquid murmur of the river flows merrily as it carves its way to the sea.

The silence of emptiness hangs..and I turn to Gary with a relieved yet sad grin. ‘WOW’.

This is Africa’s bush life in all its beauty.

My day at the zoo has been an eye opener for me and I cannot help but compare this day with my experiences in the valley. It reafirms my commitment to do all I can to help preserve our heritage. These enormous animals belong on the land and I cannot imagine a trip to our magical place in the Zambezi valley to find it empty of elephants.

These inconic animals are the essence of the African bush and at present they are being poached at a rate of 100 a day. To those fueling the demand which in turn fuels the destruction, do you have any idea of the chaos and death left behind, rotting in the vast wilderness of sun kissed grass and sturdy trees of Africa. Please say no to ivory and help to save these magnificent and sentient animals from extinction. ‘The True Cost of IvoryTrinkets is an infographic in Chinese and English to help raise awareness on the rampant poaching of elephants. This infographic was created for Chengeta Wildlife.

Chengeta Wildlife is a group of people from around the world who formed a nonprofit organization to support Rory Young and the work he does. He has skills and knowledge that the teams protecting wildlife badly need to protect themselves and wildlife. If enough funding is generated we would like to purchase tactical equipment needed by the teams. Things like night vision goggles, thermal sensing equipment and motion sensing cameras. Chengeta Wildlife is run by volunteers. So far 100% of funds raised have gone directly to the field where it is desperately needed. WE HAVE ZERO OVERHEAD COSTS!

Rory Young and Yakov Alekseyev have written ‘A Field Manual For Anti-Poaching Activities.’

A manual well worth reading..and full of information. This manual provides intense and detailed evaluation of how to decipher even the smallest and at times what might appear to be unimportant detail and encompass it all into the strategy. In the preface they talk about the fact that our existence clings to the fragile towers that are made up of innumerable life forms that we share this beautiful world with. When individual species are destroyed, we change their impact on the ecosystems and eventually the towers will begin to crumble and fall…causing a domino effect. We have to be incredibly egotistical to believe that we can survive without these ecosystems.

Let us ensure that these animals continue to wear their tusks with pride. ( My Poem)

Enlightening The Oldies

July 14, 2014 Jen

I love my life here in the UK and feel incredibly blessed to be able to make a living. This journey I am on and the wonderful people I am meeting in person and also through face book all adds to the excitement of taking a stance against wildlife crime in the best way I know how. I work in an Assisted Living Complex and over the last three years have made time to get to know and respect our residents. I am amazed at how many of them have ties of some sort to my beautiful home country, Zimbabwe. OF course, the conversation strangely enough gets around to elephants, and at least half of them have had the wonderful experience of seeing these animals in the wild. However, very few of them were aware of the rampant poaching sweeping through Africa, until I started my journey. Since I started sharing my precious memories with them all, I now receive newspaper cuttings, magazine cuttings and all sorts of tidbits concerning Zimbabwe’s beleaguered elephants, rhinos and other endangered species. Sometimes I end up with three of four cuttings of the same article, and I just smile and thank each of them. A few of them call me ‘elephant girl’ which makes me at 55 years of age smile.

‘What is the bush like?’ is a question I am often asked and I have to admit that I do feel a painful stretching of my heart.

‘Zimbabwe is a wild garden pulsating with life.’ I again feel the hot dry air rushing into my lungs and the warm sultry heat that saturates every inch of my body. I smile at the memories of the african people with their dark tightly knitted curls, solemn dark eyes and ready smiles. There is not a night that goes by where the setting sun does not whisper a promise for tomorrow and the golden horizons herald a new morning. The vast blue skies smile down on this Eden teeming with wildlife of every description.

‘Have you camped in the bush?’ Blue eyes, worn over time stare at me.

‘The morning mist rises with summer laziness and the wild sweet decay of elephant dung fills your nostrils. Our favourite fishing spot in the Zambezi valley is a place that steals your heart. I have slept out side under a mosquito net, all be it with a thumping heart. A myriad of stars light up the night sky and the serenading of crickets and birds lulls you into a deep sleep. A low frequency purr that you can feel rather than hear alerts you to the fact that a gigantic presence is blocking out the night sky. Fold upon fold of wrinkled skin is close enough to reach out and touch. My heart bolts like a runaway train and my mouth is so dry that the inner folds are stuck to my teeth. The earthy sweet odour clogs my nostrils and the elation of being in the presence of an elephant fills me with a life changing euphoria.’ I shake my head, holding this particular memory close to my heart.

‘You have to see the golden dawn and the hear the liquid murmur of the fast flowing Zambezi river. There is nothing more enchanting than a steaming hot cup of tea and a vast river to leave you with summer contentment and idle thoughts. The grunts from the aquatic ballet dancers (hippos) as they frolic in the water ,watchful and at times bad tempered. Along the bank the old dugger boy (buffalo) slurps thirstily, a mean look in his rheumy old eye. He is a walking smorgasbord for the tick birds that in turn provide him with a free bug and tic cleaning service.’ I smile. ‘You have to hear the baboon cursing each other with loud angry barks. You have to see to appreciate the weaver bird nests decorating low hanging branches and African skimmers and white fronted plovers. Mosquitoes, sun creams, biltong and beer all form a delightful partnership with camping on the Zambezi river. Beware the crocodiles with their slit eyes and lethal jaws.’

I continue to enthuse, my eyes lighting up and burning as bright as the African sun. There is a powerful pulsing of African through my veins as I think of this vast continent. My eyes dull as I think of the troubles facing the continent. A continent that is also weeping. The continent with an emptiness at her centre that I find disturbing.

I tell them that behind every piece of ivory there is a story, a bloody barbaric story. I talk about the callous way these animals are slaughtered and left to rot in the sun. We talk about how sentient these animals are and what it does to young animals who witness these fullscale killings. The plight of the rhino is also a subject that is foremost on my mind. I tell them about Thandi the rhino and show them the link. Then we also talk about canned hunting and the fact that these lion cubs are hand reared for shooting and I can see these old folk shake their heads, a horrified look in their eyes.

‘You are doing a good job.’ They tell me.

‘Thank you, but I need to do more.’ Is my reply.

An arthritic hand with dry crepe skin reaches out, cool to the touch and a gentle voice brings me back to the present. ‘Thank you for sharing those precious moments with us.’ She coughs gently, clearing her throat. ‘Who will look after these places that you describe? How many animals are left now? It is such a long time since you were home.’

‘There are so many amazing people out there putting their lives on the line to protect this heritage.’ I pull out my phone and show them the photos of Rory Young and Chengeta Wildlife. (Their face book page. Please like and share.) I tell them that Rory has already volunteered much of his time in providing much needed training to wildlife protection teams. Violent groups in the region have now started to look to the ivory trade to fund terrorist activities. Rory is implementing a full time, comprehensive training program to provide the rangers with the resources they need to carry out their important work and has now formed a partnership with ALERT.

It is a life changing experience for the rangers who are witness to the ‘desolation’ long after the poached animal has unburdened its enormous wrinkled body into a spiritual updraft of lightness. Sadly for these animals death does not always come in a single violent stroke.

For me, I am going to continue to raise awareness on the plight of the elephants, rhinos and other endangered species through my poetry and blog. The Baobab, A silent witness (my poem)