The Legend of Nyaminyami

SEVENTY-FIVE million years ago, the Zambezi Valley ll,wnurtured embryo mankind. Less than four decades ago, it was still an unspoilt wilderness, the home of a small unsophisticated people called the BaTonga, and of a spectrum of wild animals and bird life.

But the might of the Zambezi River held too much promise for modern technology. As early as 1914, its flow was measured; shortly before World War II, a report was made on the possibility of building a hydro-electric scheme in the area. In 1950 a start was made. For the people of the Valley, it was a heartrending sight. Bulldozers roared instead of lion, smashing down centuries-old trees, hacking a road out of the savage terrain towards what would eventually become the dam wall.

Not only peace and solitude were taken away from the BaTonga; they were told to leave their homes because these would be flooded by the waters of the lake that would form. New settlements were built for them on higher ground, but before they moved, they swore that Nyaminyami, the River God, would destroy the man-made abomination. For several years, it seemed that Nyaminyami was indeed venting his wrath. In 1958, near-disastrous floods wreaked havoc on the half-built dam wall. Over 16 million litres of water per second deluged the workings, washing away heavy equipment and almost all else.

By early 1959, the dam wall was completed, and the plains began to flood. Perhaps Nyaminyami was appeased by a new phenomenon: the advent of a cash economy for his people. The BaTonga began to fish for profit, and many now own flourishing sardine fleets.

There was no such consolation for the animals of Kariba. As the waters rose, their old haunts disappeared. Frantically, they tried to make for the remaining islands, hitherto deadly enemies swimming side by side, united in their last-ditch quest for survival. It was then that game ranger Rupert Fothergill and his team stepped in, with their flotilla of craft, encouraging the more hardy animals to swim to safety, capturing the weak and inept, tranquillising them for the journey, and finally releasing them on safe shores to find new homes. "Operation Noah", as it was dubbed, rescued over 5 000 animals, comprising 35 different mammal species let alone thousands of reptiles.

On May 16th, 1960, Britain's Queen Elizabeth flicked a switch to start the Kariba generators, and one of Africa's most ambitious projects officially came to life, bringing with it a vista that, once seen, few can forget. The dam wall rises 128 metres from the river bed. Behind it, Lake Kariba stretches back for 290 km, covers 6 000 sq km, is 42 km across at its widest, and has an average depth of 18 metres. The statistics, though, prepare one little for the sight of this inland sea which melts constantly from azure to aquamarine to amethyst and, at sunset, becomes a vast sheet of molten copper.

The sounds of Kariba are a study in contrasts: speedboat screams as holidaymakers at the excellent resort hotels waterski; a slower putter as amateur fishermen seek quiet inlets to hunt for Tiger Fish, bream, chesa, and giant vundu; the dawn murmur of a gulping shore, and the shriek of the Fish Eagle.

Operation Noah's animals were released on the shores of the Matusadona National Park, and obeyed the biblical injunction to go forth and multiply. Today, there are game viewing safaris by boat aplenty, but Bumi Hills, a resort 64 km south-east of the dam wall and set 121 metres above the water on a promontory, is a prime viewing point. Watch at sunset, and you may see elephant, buffalo, kudu and-if you're lucky--lion coming down to the water's edge to drink.

At the time of flooding, the tops of many trees remained above water. The mopane and leadwood trees (among the world's hardest woods) lost their foliage and died, but did not rot immediately. Without their leaves, and because of the hardiness of their wood, they appear to have fossilised. Today, these stark sentinels are the home for an increasingly rich bird population, winging its way from other parts of Africa and from Europe.

Kariba town is high on the heights overlooking the lake. Here stands St Barbara's open-sided church built in the shape of a coffer dam by the dam workers in memory of those colleagues who lost their lives during its construction. A big attraction, of course, is the crocodile farm. And then, what better than a voyage on the Sea Lion, a 22-hour ferry service with overnight facilities, which plies the length of the lake, bearing cargo, passengers and vehicles to various ports of call.

Apart from exploring Kariba, there are canoe safaris from the Kariba Gorge to Chirundu, and then the wonder of the Zambezi River. Covering over 250 000 ha, Mana Pools National Park lies astride the Middle Valley. With its camping sites, lodges and thatched cottages, Maria is, quite simply, enthralling. Elephant are its most spectacular extras in the crowd scenes here, although buffalo rival them--herds of up to 2 000 have been spotted. Impala, waterbuck and baboon also abound, and lion and leopard are not uncommon.