GAME DRIVE!

     There are two new supervisors to look after the volunteers at Imire.  They are Morgan and Rob, two young, enthusiastic, good-humored, knowledgeable, and energetic Australians who seem made for this type of work.  They are friendly and calm, reacting to any perceived calamity with reasoned assurances, and they clearly LOVE Imire and consider life there as a continual BLAST!
     They are spontaneous and fun, and when there was a lapse in Sunday's rain, they organized an impromptu game drive simply to go look at stuff in the game park.  Great idea!  All us volunteers piled into the truck.

 I just can't get enough of those giraffes.  They seem to have been amazingly productive in the last year and a half.  There were only four when I was here last, but now there seemed to be about ten.  In the foreground here is one the youngsters.  You can tell by how light-colored he is.  He's not exactly small, though I guess he's only a few months old.  He MUST stand at least 10 - 12 feet tall.
     These guys free roam in Imire's huge  area (hundreds of fenced-in acres), but even so, seeing a truck coming means TREATS to them, and they're more than willing to pose for nice close-ups. 

 









Always room for one more giraffe photo.  They have to be one of the most aesthetically charming creatures in the world, and I'll never forget the ones I got to cozy up to at Giraffe Manor a couple of years ago.

Blast from the past (2015)

Well, we saw lots of stuff I didn't get good photos of, including a big snake, some zebras, a secretary bird--and for years now, I've been trying to get a good picture of one of my favorites--wart hogs.  They run around surprisingly fast, and they're unexpectedly hard to photograph.  Here's my best effort.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Two warthogs, too much action

                                                                  

A nice little herd of "bachelor" impalas

    The next day was Monday, and after many many good-bye hugs, another volunteer whose flight left about the same time as mine and I left for Harare, sadly leaving Imire in the rear view mirror.                                                                                                              

Still More Heroes and Heroines

    I often think of the memorable thing that Jack, my old friend from the Elephant Valley Project in Cambodia and Thailand, said:  "I came for the animals, but I stayed for the people."
    Like Jack, I travel abroad ostensibly to see, up-close, and personal, the animals I've only read about and watched documentaries about.  For some unknown reason, I crave physical contact with animals, and some of my most vivid and significant memories will always be the feel of an elephant's trunk exploring my foot, the feeling of a giraffe's neck curled around my shoulders, or, even further back, the feel of a ticklish, squirmy otter in my arms.
     And yet, though that was my "aim," what winds up being perhaps even a more memorable experience are the people I meet along the way.  And of those people, Mrs. Matsika from Zimbabwe has to be one of the most memorable.

Mr. and Mrs. Matsika and one of their grandchildren

      Mrs. Matsika is the deputy headmistress of Numwa Secondary School, which is located right on the edge of Imire's game park.  I met her as part of my first visit to Imire, and from the very first, I thought "I am never going to meet anyone more like Mother Theresa in my lifetime."  She radiates goodness, empathy, dedication, and well . . . . . love . . .  more than anyone I've ever met.
    She is absolutely dedicated to the well-being of the students at the school, not only in their formal education, but in their general well-being.  She is a part of the ladies' sewing club, whose mission it is to make low-cost uniforms for students who otherwise can't afford them, to provide a nutritious snack to all the students during their examinations and as often during the year as possible, and to provide support and guidance to current and past students.
    She loves her country and its culture and customs, and she is actively engaged in the struggle to preserve them.  Each Thursday night, she travels to the volunteer house at Imire, cooks a traditional Shona meal there, and fills out the evening telling the volunteers about Shona traditions, language, music, and food.  If one listens to her closely, I believe they will come away from Zimbabwe with a far greater understanding of its people than they otherwise would.

    A couple of years ago, she told me about one of her students who 
needed a little help.  While she is a very proud person and did not want to appear to be soliciting donations, she eventually let me know that this young man, who had no parents, had tremendous potential and dedication for a university career, but NO means to get there.  With her guidance, we were able to give him a hand.  This young man is now flourishing at university in Zimbabwe, obtaining all A's in last semester's grade reports, and setting Zimbabwe-wide records in track.  
    I'm so lucky to have had the privilege to get to know these people. 


                                         Here is our young friend, attired in a 
                                         suit donated by a generous friend!

Judy Judy Judy

     I suppose you could call Judy Travers the reigning matriarch of the Travers family,  even though she is not a Travers by birth, but "married into" the family by her marriage to John, the son of the iconic original Travers couple Norman and Gilly.
      While Imire was originally a farm dedicated to the raising of such crops as tobacco, it evolved over the years into a wildlife park fully sanctioned by the Zimbabwean government.  Anyone who knows anything about Zimbabwe knows that the past century has been hugely difficult.  There was the long bloody civil war in the 1970s and 1980s culminating in the overthrow of Ian Smith's Rhodesian government and its eventual replacement with the black government headed by Robert Mugabe and the country's new name Zimbabwe.  Mugabe initially tolerated the presence of the white farmers, but then in the early 2000s went on a rampage forcibly removing the white farmers from the farms they'd been cultivating for generations.   One of the few farms that was NOT forcibly removed from its white owners was Imire.
    Imire had firmly established itself as a extraordinarily well-managed refuge for Zimbabwe's disappearing wildlife--especially rhinos--and as a model for attracting the ever-desirable tourist dollars.  Political differences aside, all (or at least MOST) Zimbabweans remained in agreement that the preservation of the nation's wildlife was critical.
    I've met a lot of animal lovers in my lifetime--and I certainly consider myself an over-the-top animal lover--but I have never had the privilege of meeting ANYONE with the unqualified love and dedication to animals that Judy Travers has. It's only one example of thousands of actions she does on a daily basis, but who do you know who would tend to a baby rhino in her house for more than two years?   And that love and dedication also extends to the people of Imire.  No one has a stronger advocate for health care, education, nutrition, and job training than Judy. 
    Add to the mix that she is incredibly energetic, warm, funny, and smart, you have one of THE most interesting people you've ever met.  When you've spent a day with her, you feel exhausted but exhilerated.  And I have been fortunate to have spent several days with her.  She is tirelessly devoted to the well-being of the local people and this trip, she showed me:  A new community center provided with enormous generosity and attention to detail by a couple from Vancouver  who collected everything necessary for an extensive carpentry shop, a respite center complete with a dozen  beds and kitchen facilities, and a meeting area for group activities and gardening, packed it all into shipping crates and sent it to Imire. 

A new school designed by a graduate student in architecture who was able to secure most of the funding to actually build the school she designed.  

A clinic built on the premises of one the unfortunate white farmers who had NOT been able to avoid removal, but which now houses a full-time nurse to provide medical services locally.  

And to brag a little, she also showed me the well Scott and I had paid for (lest you think we're amazingly philanthropic, the well cost $400), which provides the water for the clinic and its outbuildings. 





I could write a whole blog of Judy stories, but here's one she told me herself that I think will tell you more about Judy than any other.  She told me that when her parents-in-law became too old and infirm to continue living at Imire, they moved into a care facility and left a huge void at Imire.  Judy and her children felt it acutely and felt they had to do something a little out of the ordinary to dissipate the gloom.  So they went on a several day camping trip by ELEPHANT back!
     They headed off to the nearest mountain barely visible from Imire on a clear day and rode through tiny villages all along the way.  People heard about their passage and flooded to the paths to see the elephants.  The Shona people all have various animal "totems"--about 20-- and so many are of the elephant totem.  Yet they encountered many people who not had only never seen an ELEPHANT, but they had never seen a PHOTO of an elephant!  They called the elephants "walking rocks."
    Bright was an elephant handler in those days, and he repeated to me how incredibly magical it was, riding those elephants, camping out, and waking to see them contentedly grazing in the morning mist.  And Judy said it was one of the highlights of her life--and hers is a life with many many highlights.

These three walking rocks were all on that trip.

Singing the Unsung Heroes

     Now that I've talked about the elephants and the rhinos, I'd like to talk about the guys who are responsible for their safety.  Many people worry about the dangerousness of the large animals at Imire, but it is impossible to over-state how great the danger is FOR the large animals at Imire.
     In 2007, poachers entered the game park and came to the little cluster of houses that are next to the "bomas,"  the corrals where both the rhinos and the elies spend the nights.  They simply cannot roam free at night.  It is impossible to protect them adequately in the dark.   These poachers first attacked the people living in the houses, beating them and tying them up.  
     That done, they attacked the rhinos.  There were four adult rhinos and a baby only a few days old.  All four adults were killed and their horns sawed off and stolen.  Somehow they missed the baby who was cowering in a mound of hay in the corner of one of the bomas.  That traumatized little guy was Tatenda, who wound up growing up in the Travers home, until he was two YEARS of age.  If Tatenda's story interests you, you might check out the little movie made about him called "There's a Rhino in My House," a 4-part series on youTube. 
     So, protection of the rhinos is VERY critical.  Although most of the Imire rhinos are tranquillized and have their horns removed regularly (the horns grow back just like fingernails), poachers are interested even in the bit of horn that exists under the skin.  Rhino horn is more valuable than diamonds or gold, mainly because some modern quack doctor in Vietnam claims to be able to cure cancer with it.  It is said to be worth upwards of $60,000 an ounce.  All this despite the fact that rhino horn has EXACTLY the same composition as human fingernails.

     
During the daylight hours, each rhino has a guard armed with an AK47 watching over it.  Thank goodness, no one has had to use one since 2007, but I'm sure that's due to the fact that it is well-known that Imire protects its rhino population so vigorously.




There are at least 10 rhinos at Imire and therefore LOTS of rhino handlers.  But there are only four elephants, and so there are only 4 elephant handlers.  I've spent more time with the elephant handlers than the rhino handlers, so I've gotten to know these guys better.  Here they are:

From left to right, that's Polite, Mr. Brown, and Blessing, accompanyied by some itinerant wannabe elephant handler.  Petros had the day off.

So, THANKS GUYS, for the heroic job you do, and thanks to the Travers family for going to so very much time, effort, and money to insure that "our" animals are protected.




    

SUPERSTAR!!!!!

     I guess you could call me a lucky traveller.  I just happened on my first trip to Imire to see Baby Tafika, a two-week-old baby black rhino.  And this time, I just happened to see Imire's latest arrival, an as-yet-un-named two-week-old baby WHITE rhino!  And to show you what incredible luck that is, there have been no other baby rhinos born at Imire in the three years between these two earth-stopping events!
     This baby has a nervous Mom, and so I wasn't able to get the great close-ups I was able to get of Baby Tafika, but I hope you can still get the idea.  I always associate animal "cuteness" with fluffiness and big eyes, but this baby is proof that cuteness doesn't end there.

 Here he comes!  This little guy is SO full of mischief!  When his mother tries to take a nap, he crawls all over her and head-butts her.  She is INCREDIBLY patient (and tired).

     You may notice that neither of these rhinos is "white" in the sense we understand the term.  Perhaps you already know why they distinguish the two kinds of rhinos in sub-Saharan Africa as "black" and "white,"  but here's an abbreviated version of the story.  The first rhinos observed by white settlers were called blacks, because . . . well . . . .   they WERE .
     Then it was discovered that there was quite another kind of rhino in the area.  The Boer settlers noticed that their mouths were much wider than the black rhinos.  In their Germanic way, they called those newly-discovered rhinos "weid,"  meaning "WIDE."  The later English settlers misunderstood the name, and soon they were called "white" rhinos, to distinguish them from "black" rhinos, even though there's no real color distinction between them.  And yes, due to poaching, they are both EXTREMELY rare, and about equally.

And there he goes!

 

The Unsinkable Mr. Brown

    Anybody who's been fortunate enough to visit Imire will tell you that one of the most unforgettable characters there is the elephant handler Mr. Brown.  Even if he weren't the character he is, he'd be really interesting.  Virtually all the people at Imire are from Zimbabwe's Shona culture.  Imire is smack in the middle of what used to be called Mashonaland, the part of Zimbabwe that has always been predominantly Shona.
    The "other" major culture in Zimbabwe is called Ndebele.  The homeland of Ndebeles (pronounce "en-duh-belly") is further south.  Hailing from Bulawayo, in Ndebeleland, is our own Mr. Brown, so called because his real name is unpronounceable for Shona and English speakers alike.  Shona and Ndebele people used to be enemies, but all that is behind them now.
    The first thing one notices about Mr. Brown is that he is a TERRIBLE liar.  He NEVER tells the truth if a plausible (or sometimes, not so plausible) lie is handy.  You know he's lying.  He knows you know he's lying.  You know he knows you know he's lying.  Et Cetera.  It's all in good fun.  I remember the first time I encountered Mr. Brown's lying was years ago when he and I were riding one of the elephants.  I was complaining about my being so old, and he announced--probably as an instance of one-up-manship--that he was 74 years old.  I believed him for about 15 seconds and then realized the joke was on me.
    The Ndebele language is a CLICK language, and Mr. Brown is more than willing to demonstrate that for you.  There are at least two different clicks--one from the front part of the mouth and one from the rear--that give the language many more ways of expression.  Even in the written language, they are symbolized by an exlamation point and another distinct symbol.  Here is the wonderful Miriam Makeba singing a song in click language.
    But the important thing about Mr. Brown is that he is a wonderfully warm guy who is genuinely friendly and caring and who has so much to share with all of us.  This trip I was lucky enough to meet his daughter Musa, who is as demonstrably embarrassed by her Dad as any teenager anywhere. 

A Wedding, Complete with Elephants

    There were about 10 volunteers staying at Imire during the time I was there.  Since I was only there five days, I didn't get to know them as well as I would have liked, but they were decidedly a delightful bunch.  There were Australians, Swedes, and several Americans.  Oddly enough, I had never encountered American volunteers at Imire before!
    First thing in the morning, we all went to the elephant bomas (corrals), or at least where the bomas used to be.  Apparently the elephants tore them down, which means now they have to be tied up at night again, since it is still too dangerous for them to roam free at night.  They just can't be adequately protected from poachers when 
it's dark out.
   





 I'd had some romantic notion that my 
favorite elephant Mac might give some sign
of remembering me, though I can't imagine
what such a sign would look like.  I didn't see one, in any case.  He was his usual amiable self though.

    







    One of the young American women was from California, and she had done numerous volunteer gigs all over African.  She had become familiar with the African custom of LOBOLA, or "bride price."  It is still quite customary in many African countries, and certainly in Zimbabwe, that when a couple wants to marry, the bride's family and the groom's family negotiates how much lobola will be paid by the groom's family to the bride's.  Usually, the "currency" involved is cows, but I understand that cash is also sometimes exchanged. 
    In any event, this young woman had apparently been making a game of negotiating lobola for her "daughter" with the elephant handlers, whom we visited our first morning together.  They  were negotiating for not just cows, but also rhinos, elephants, giraffes, zebras, whatever.  Everyone one was having a lot of fun negotiating.  Finally, an agreement was reached, and the young American produced one of the other volunteers as her "daughter," and a wedding was hastily convened, presided over by Bishop Mr. Brown.

In this photo, the "groom" is taking a photo of his bride (second from the left), her "mother" 
(second from the right), the three "bridesmaids,"  and Bishop Mr. Brown in the center.  More about Mr. Brown later. 





We were all laughing so hard that something magical happened.  The three elephants interrupted their breakfast and walked over to where we were goofing around and just stood and stared at us, ears flared.  They were "right there," and we all were struck by the magic of their company.

Here's one of the wedding on-lookers keeping a curious and benign eye on the proceedings.