An Elephant Bull Called Elizabeth and Other Short Stories from Africa

South Luangwa Floods

Waking one morning in January I heard an unusual noise.  I knew what it was but I couldn't quite believe it.  The tamarind tree outside the front of my house had been occupied by baboons that night.  It was not a normal for them to use the tamarind to overnight in but then the high waters of the Luangwa River had meant their normal sleeping spots were out of reach.  One of these primates had relieved itself on waking, as you do, and there was a distinct plop as the faeces landed in the water below and that was the problem.  The tree was growing at the edge of my little patch of lawn, just before the bush started, there ought not have been any water for anything to 'plop' into.  So began a long day.

Looking out my mesh screen window the brown dirty flood waters of the Luangwa could be seen edging across the lawn.  I swear I could see it actually coming up.  I guess the event was not totally unexpected, the rains had been falling consistently for weeks now with no let up.  The rain that fell was not rain as in the UK but, rather, a sunny day ending in a heavy dousing and, possibly, a continued light sprinkling through the night.  Tropical Cyclone Dora only made matters worse.  Then there was the fact that the camp was built on the upper flood plain of the Luangwa River, the area where the vegetation clearly indicates there is occasional flooding and just above the flood plain that is inundated on a yearly basis.  This was going to be one of those occasional floods. 

There had already been drama enough before this moment.  In fact how there was no loss of life is still beyond me.  Kafunta River Lodge stands on the banks of the Luangwa, the southern most camp on the east bank of the Mfuwe sector.  To get into the park was normally a twenty minute drive to the gate however, this season, there had be the odd spot of bother.  The low level crossing near us was in danger of being washed away having been badly undercut, it was hanging on by a thread; the second low level crossing, nearer the main gate, was always at risk of a sudden flash flood.  This second crossing would normally flood a day or so after a heavy downpour on already sodden ground.  Obviously this innocent looking ditch had a large catchment that extended many miles back toward Chipata.  Rain falling there would take a day to arrive.  It was a known risk and the solution was to place Kafunta's banana boat at the crossing and a couple of vehicles on the far side.  This meant we could still get guests in and out and send them on game drives into the park by boating them over the flood waters.

One morning the staff coming in from Mfuwe warned me the waters of this troublesome low level crossing were rising.  I acted quickly and dispatched Martin with one vehicle and one of the workshop mechanics with a second, their aim being to place these two vehicles on the far side of the crossing.  Martin was, and still is, an experienced and capable guide, so I was quite happy entrusting the task to him on the basis that he made the judgement call as to whether or not it was too dangerous to cross.

Reaching the crossing Martin decided it was still do-able and so he went for it.  The trick to it is getting the speed right.  Go too slow and you lose power and get pushed around by the flood waters.  Too fast and you start to aquaplane and lose grip with a similar result.  Martin judged it perfectly and, though the water was very high, over halfway up the door in-fact, he managed to push a nice bow wave out in front of him self whilst maintaining contact with the concrete below his wheels.  It was then the mechanics turn, if memory serves his name was Freddy but I could be wrong.  Whilst being a capable driver he was probably a bit nervous of the water and, in the end, it was the nerves that won out.

Entering the water Freddy had second thoughts and that was his undoing.  Easing off the accelerator at precisely the wrong moment the vehicle lost power, the bow wave closed in and the land cruiser started getting pushed off the crossing.  Down stream of the crossing the water was probably about ten foot deep and very fast flowing.  That way lay certain death.  Freddy stamped on the brakes, eyes wide in shock, the wheels first slide and then held, gripping the concrete and saving man and machine.