Chapter Six- A lot More Elephants

   After dropping my gear in my hut I left camp for the township stores in Zhomba, where I bought some tea and sugar, along with a couple of the brightly colored head scarves the local women wore, to mail home to my daughters.
   I also searched in vain for a larger size mosquito net as the standard size wouldn’t fit completely around my bed, and the “mosies” as they were called, were getting thicker all the time. Returning to camp with my meager rations, I found there was nothing much to be done, as the clients weren’t due for several days.
   It seemed a good time to perform a little equipment maintenance, so I retired to my hut and broke out the .470 double. It was coated on every surface with fine grit, and as I broke it down for cleaning I was dismayed to find very small patches of rust in a couple of places. It surprised me, given how dry the air is, but I supposed the damp cold nights on the river had somehow caused the problem. A couple of hours later the rifle was in great shape again, and as I opened the gun case to place the gun back inside, I realized the case was also full of the same gritty dirt and dust I had just removed from the rifle. It was a good lesson in bush life. It was common to remove the rifle from the case and simply throw the case onto the back of the Cruiser, or back into the hut, never giving any thought to what was collecting inside the case itself. Sliding a rifle or fine shotgun in and out of a case full of dirt would wreak havoc on any nice finish, and I then spent some more time thoroughly cleaning out the case itself.
   I spent the afternoon in the camp office with Danny, discussing items that needed to be addressed before the next hunt. The day before, a Problem Animal Reporter had stopped one of the camp boys in Zhomba and relayed trouble he was having with a herd of elephants raiding a village on the Susami River. The herd would come into the garden plots every night and help themselves to whatever they could find, terrorizing the villagers. According to the PAR, he was shooting at the elephants with his shotgun, but they just stood still and ate, ignoring the birdshot completely. Our skinner, Sunnyboy, knew where the village was located, and since the report was actually made in a timely manner we decided I would run down to the river later in the evening and have a look.
   As we sat in the office the time for the evening radio schedule arrived, and I listened in to see what news there might be from the outside world. Dudley, the Company owner, was out of the country but still had radio contact with the main office. We listened in on a discussion between him and his wife regarding a buffalo hunt which had taken place a few weeks earlier.
It involved the Norwegian client who had booked from South Africa. He had taken a bull and also cow buffalo with the Company, and his South African booking agent was pressuring the Company to process and ship the client’s trophies, although they hadn’t been paid for.
That was strictly illegal of course, as Zimbabwe law stipulates a strict time limit during which a hunt must be paid for in full, and trophy export permits aren’t issued until this has occurred. Because the client had originally booked and paid with another safari company, the agent was waiting for a refund before paying Tshabezi. It was a mess, and time was running out for Dudley.
   I had once asked Dudley if he had ever been cheated by a client, as the standard practice in the industry is to accept a deposit of 40 to 50 percent, with the balance and trophy fees paid at the end of the hunt. It seemed it might be awful easy to have someone come and hunt, then refuse to pay. In 20 years it had never happened to Dudley, although there had been the occasional disagreement about amounts due and so forth.
At the end of the conversation there was nothing that could be done but explain that money was owed to Tshabezi regardless of other arrangements, and nothing could be shipped until that was paid.
   In the event a client doesn’t pay in a timely manner, the safari company must pay that money out of its own coffers, to satisfy the law, or risk being put out of business by the government. The law also stipulates that the money must be paid in US dollars, as the hunting and photo safari industry is one of the largest sources of foreign exchange in Zimbabwe, bringing in over $25 million a year.
  As dusk approached I left camp with Sunnyboy and Peter, headed for the Susami River.
We arrived in the area and began to question local villagers about the elephant problem, and eventually found a couple of kids who knew which village was being victimized. We drove for 5 or 6 kilometers until we reached a small settlement a couple hundred meters from the river.
   A communal gardening area had been established along the river bank, about 25 acres in size. It looked as though each villager simply staked out the area he needed and planted whatever he wanted to. Each of the oddly shaped patches of garden was surrounded with a thorn boma, or wall, to protect the plants.
   For the most part, the garden seemed in good shape, and in the moonlight we couldn’t find a single track to indicate recent elephant activity. None of the bomas had been disturbed, and after some time scouting up and down the river bed we came to the conclusion that the report was false. Sunnyboy, however, who loved any opportunity to fire a gun, pointed out that we needed to do something to make the villagers and Problem Animal Reporter feel we had taken some action.
   His suggestion was that he and Peter fire into the air a few times, as though scaring off elephants. It made sense to me, and when I agreed he raised the Remington 11-87 he had borrowed from the camp manager and blazed away at the stars until his gun was empty. Peter fired two rounds from my little bird gun, and with big grins on their faces we left for home.
   We drove along the Gokwe road, dodging donkey carts and pedestrians, the chill night air drifting in through the windows. It was one of those grand African nights, with the moon still low enough that it doesn’t wash out the incredibly bright stars and constellations.
   I searched the sky for my favorite, the Southern Cross, and was comforted as always by its presence.
   It had been an easy day, and I was looking forward to a cup of tea, and maybe a little reading before bed.
   We arrived to find anarchy reigning in Main Camp, once again....