Chapter Four-Company Chores

 Dudley had returned from Mozambique, and asked that I help build some bow blinds and transport materials to a new camp being built on Jonsyl Ranch, about 40 kilometers south of West Nicholson.

   Kirk was in town, and Monday morning helped me load a truck with cinder blocks and mortar, and gave me directions to the new camp so I could deliver the material. I recognized the land when I arrived, as it was part of the property hunted from the old camp now occupied by the war vets. The terrain is fairly flat, but covered with large rocky formations that rise up for 20 or 30 meters, and offer refuge for leopards, klipspringers, baboon, rock dassies, and numerous other creatures. At one time natives lived on top of these formations, and it was common to find pottery shards, grinding stones and even the remains of fortifications on top of many that we climbed to glass for game.

   Jonsyl camp was brand new, and very comfortable. Built into the side of a low stone rise, it consisted of 4 cinder block chalets with thatch roofs, at the back end of the compound. Each chalet had an attached bathroom with running water that was supplied by a huge above ground tank on one end of the compound. The chalets would comfortably sleep two people.

   In the center of the chalets was a large flat spot in the rock that had been leveled with concrete, and a fire pit was built into the ground.

I   n front of the chalets sat two cinder block buildings with about 5 meters of space between them, and this was covered by a roof suspended between the two buildings and used as the dining area. The building on the right was used as a store room and the building on the left was the sleeping quarters for the PH and the rest of us.

   The material I was hauling was being used to build a skinning shed outside the main compound, and all in all this was a beautifully situated camp. It was clean and comfortable, and surrounded by game rich land.

   After dropping off the material I headed back to the office, and as there was nothing else for me to do I hung around to learn more about running the operation.

   Kirk’s twin brother Carl was in, talking to Dudley about an upcoming hunt.

   A client, from Norway, had called from Mozambique, wanting to book a buffalo hunt. The man had arrived there  to discover the hunt he booked was a scam.. After two days in the camp he discovered his “PH” didn’t really have a license, and wanted to sit around drinking all day. The client had 7 days left to hunt, and Dudley asked Carl if he could get the man a buffalo in 7 days.

   Carl responded that it could be done, if the client could walk. Physical conditioning is often overlooked by clients, and even the best professional hunter can’t do much if his client is unfit.

   It was decided to take the hunt, which meant a lot of details had to be worked out to get the client into Gokwe by the following day.

   I decided to get out of the way, and drove over to the garage to share a cup of nasty instant coffee with Mike, and maybe hear a war story or two.

   Besides the garage Mike ran the daily operations at the company cattle ranch, and also saw to the welfare of the company employees, who lived in two large housing compounds outside West Nicholson.

   Wood is used for all cooking and heat at these compounds, and is also used for heating water at the main family house, and so it is in great demand. Mike had employed three full time wood cutters, who operated on company and public property, and had been for years. Some sort of government council from Gwanda had decided to intervene in the operation, and that day an official had told Mike that all wood cutting had to cease immediately. Mike tried to explain that people needed the wood to cook and heat their homes, but the official insisted that the cutting stop immediately, even on private land. It was typical of the problems the company had with various governmental bodies, and the decisions and edicts never accomplished anything except to harm the local people.

   Mike had fired the three woodcutters, who were understandably upset, and he made certain they knew who had forced the action upon him.

   I had supper that evening with the family, and stayed in the cottage next to the main house. The following morning I ran another load of blocks out to Jonsyl, and then went back to the office to catch the latest gossip. It wasn’t pleasant.

   A neighbor named Ken stopped in, distraught almost to the point of tears. He was a retired engineer from Bulawayo, and he and his wife Bobby had taken a job running a game ranch that bordered Jonsyl Ranch. A large corporation owned the property, which was about 20000 hectares, and it was used primarily for photo and hunting safaris booked for airline crews, visiting managers and other dignitaries. As Ken described the place to me I could see how much he loved it, and he and his wife had built a life there, but now the war vets had moved onto the property. What Ken described sounded nothing short of criminal, and it turned my stomach.

   About 16 of them simply showed up one day, and in an attempt at accommodation he allowed them a small corner of the property to settle onto. They had grown bolder over time, making demands that he haul water to them, then telling him that he could no longer lock the gate to the property, and finally telling him there would be no more hunting or fishing on the property. The day that Ken came to the company office the vets had told Ken that he and his wife would now have to report in to them every day.

   Dudley invited Ken to stay for lunch, and the narrative continued as we ate. Poaching on the land was rampant, and Ken told me in the past 14 months he had found and removed 2226 snares. Ken frequently found dead animals on the land, and he was especially concerned about a group of hippos that lived in a huge pond next to the house he and his wife had built. There were originally 15 animals, but one had been stabbed to death with spears, and left to rot. Ken said he didn’t worry so much about the rest of the animals as they could run away, but there was no place for the hippos to go. He had actually stopped in at the safari office to place a call to the prosecutor in Gwanda, to see if he could get the squatters removed.

   Ken lightened up a little as he described the latest greeting among the white property owners in Zimbabwe. When asked how one is doing, the response is to hold up both arms, bent at the middle, fists clenched as if holding something. The gesture is similar to a man doing pull ups, and is meant to signify “holding on”. He decided to wait at the company office for a return call from the prosecutor, and I headed off to the garage to see if there was anything for me to do.

   Kirk was there, and we watched Mike manufacture a part for a truck brought in by the Gokwe Tribal Council. The brand new truck had been donated to the council by US AID, and the engine had been destroyed already. The cost to repair it was estimated at $265000 Zim, and the company was trying to earn a little goodwill from the council by making the repairs.

   I returned to the family compound at 5, and asked Dudley if there was any news from Gwanda. The prosecutor had called back and informed Ken that his property was going to be officially taken by the government in the morning, and there was nothing going to be done about the war vets. Dudley was on a rampage about the affair, although the prosecutor had given Dudley a bit of positive news in the same call. When the squatters had taken over the company camp which I had once hunted out of, the company had been required to leave all property behind, including generators, bedding, kitchen supplies, and the hundreds of other things needed to run a camp in the bush. The prosecutor had given the company permission to retrieve all these items, but it had to be done within the next 48 hours.

   The following morning I was at the office early, as I wanted to go with the crew headed to camp to recover whatever they could. Kirk was there, organizing the process, along with Mike. I told Mike I wanted to go, but he refused, saying there might be trouble and he didn’t want me involved. Kirk told me several times during the morning that he didn’t want to see the camp. He had many good memories there and was certain the vets had destroyed the place.

   Around mid-morning the trucks left, and we all held our breaths during the day, waiting for their return....