Dale R Morris explores the “real” Africa, finding discomfort and wonders in the vast plains and wetlands of Zambia.

A shimmy of silver haze, the handiwork of a midday Zambian sun, had created a series of fake watery illusions across the featureless plain upon which we were driving. Flies buzzed in and out of the open window in search of sweat and sandwiches, whilst the cloud of dust which billowed from our wheel wake did its utmost to infiltrate our every nook and cranny. 
 

Frank, my driver and guide, brought his Land Cruiser to a standstill and peered through his binoculars out towards the quivering horizon.
 

“It’s hard to tell, I can’t really see through the haze,” he said to me. “But I think the hyenas are at home. Let’s go see.”
 

And with that, our eight-car convoy continued off-road in single file across the faceless plain.

The Liuwa Plain National Park, a remote and scarcely visited section of the great Zambezi floodplain in North Western Zambia, is a mecca for the discerning African wildlife fan. Admittedly, there aren’t many of the “sexy” big five species living there (elephant, rhino, buffalo, lion and leopard) but that, in no way, should be considered a negative.
 

In the modern world of kitsch designer wildlife parks and five-star super-safe safaris, the whole big-five thing can sometimes feel a little synthetic and often overdone. For an authentic wildlife experience, you can’t get much better than the great Zambezi floodplain.
 

For much of the year, this enormous flat landscape is submerged underwater – all 3600km2 of it. And if that sounds like a big lake to you, then just imagine what it must be like on a rainy year, when it can effectively double in size. But this annual inundation is no cataclysmic Katrina-like event; far from it. It’s actually a lifeblood to this region, an everlasting ebb and flow that has both shaped the landscape and influenced the lives and cultures of the animals, plants and humans that call this place their home. 


 

When the waters rise (usually in January), the dry land is replaced by water and fish swim where antelope would normally roam. Then, come May, the aquatic denizens retreat to the many permanent but shallow waterholes which are left behind as the floods recede.
 

This is when the Liuwa Plain becomes a bird paradise; a landscape teeming with cranes, storks, waterfowl, raptors and kingfishers. It’s also a fisherman’s paradise too and it’s not uncommon to see crowds of local tribesmen wading through waterholes armed with fish traps, casting nets and long, thin wooden spears.
 

There are some 20,000 people from the Lozi tribe (and their cattle) resident within the Liuwa Plain National Park, but they are not seen as a conservation threat. In fact, the Lozi people are the traditional custodians of the land as appointed by their king, and they have been there, living more or less sustainably, for many, many years.


 

As we trundled at a sedate pace across the dry open fields, we passed flocks of beautiful crowned cranes patrolling the margins of perfectly circular waterholes, their ridiculous hairstyles wavering in the spartan breeze. Pink-backed pelicans floated serenely like bath-time toys, grebes and ducks and things with long legs drifted here and there. Raptors soared overhead like circling kites.
 

It was November; the official end to the dry season, and judging by the sombre looking nimbus clouds heaped upon the horizon, the wet season was on its way. Distant thunder throbbed through my chest, buzzed the back of my nose and filled the air with the scent of impending rain, causing the cranes and storks to caw and croak in symphony with the angry- sounding clouds.
 

Thankfully (for me) the opening forays to the wet season are mild and do not cause flooding, and that, as Frank had previously informed our group, was a blessing.


 

“As you experienced on the journey in,” he said, “the tracks and roads across the Zambezi floodplain are quite a challenge. Even with a four-by-four. Imagine when it’s inundated. You’d be stuck… probably until the following year. That’s why the locals migrate to higher ground or else they move about with boats.”
 

It’s a lovely place, but I don’t know that I would want to be there, wading as the locals do, or paddling around in pencil-thin kayaks through clouds of mosquitoes, for months on end eating nothing but fish.
 

Although the inundation was for later on in the year, the initial November sprinklings had turned the land into a green carpet of succulent new grass. It is during this emerald stage that a spectacular performance is held: the second-largest wildebeest migration on earth.
 

Over 33,000 of these creatures make the trek down, possibly from Angola. Nobody really knows for sure. That’s the magic of this place: it’s so bloody huge, giant herds such as these can simply disappear.


 

However, it’s certainly no mystery as to where they go. Every November these most African beasts amass within the boundaries of the Liuwa Plain National Park, and once they’re there, they eat, they amble and then they have their babies.
 

Wherever we drove, there were wildebeest grunting and mewing around us. Younglings gambolled like cats on an electric fence as their parents chewed the cud whilst observing our passing with vacant expressions. There were thousands at all compass directions, but so vast was the floodplain, that their presence didn’t dominate. They merely punctuated the flat open spaces like a sprinkling of dots.
 

 “OK, we’re nearly there,” said Frank, slowing the convoy down to a snail pace. And that’s when the hyenas, the Liuwa Plain’s apex predator, amassed in the shallows of the sparkling little waterhole. Some of them lifted their heads languidly, a vague interest at our approach, but the majority continued to snooze; the only signs of life being a twitch of an ear or a flutter of an eyelid due to pesky flies.


 

I swatted one of the annoying insects from my forehead and its mangled corpse fell, unseen, into Frank’s packet of raisins.

At the edge of the waterhole was another corpse, but this one was much bigger than the fly Frank had just eaten. Hooves were the only evidence that this smelly jumble of tendon and rib was once a wildebeest. Vultures had also gathered, and whilst the predators rested they squabbled over sinewy scraps.
 

No wonder the hyenas were lack lustre though. They had all dined heartily, judging by their distended bellies, and what’s more, it had probably been an exhausting hunt for them. Interestingly, unlike hyenas elsewhere, the Liuwa packs are hunters, not scavengers, and that’s because there are very few lions present from which they can scrounge. So they must kill, which they do effectively by coalescing into gangs, sometimes comprising of as many as 25 individuals. It’s really quite a sight.
 

We stayed with the clan for many hours that day and as the afternoon sun lessened in intensity, they began to socialise, providing us with entertainment. They played, and bickered and chased birds for the hell of it. They wrestled in the mud and snapped at flies… and then they took an interest in us. Suddenly we were surrounded and as they approached I could see the dribble on their lips and smell the evil stench of their breath.


 

“OK, time to go. It’s starting to get late,” said Frank.
 

It was almost nightfall by the time we reached our camp and after the evening ritual of beer and beefsteaks over a fire, I bid my convoy companions goodnight and went to my tent to listen to the patter of rain upon the canvas. Lightning flashed and thunder bellowed, but above it all, sometime in the early hours, I heard the sound of giggling.
 

There were intermittent sniffs at the zipper and the familiar whiff of bad breath and needless to say, I didn’t sleep so well. Then when the birds began their chorus and the hyenas had assuredly gone, I emerged from my nylon fortress to the sight of cranes and wildebeest. That’s when I noticed that my toothpaste (which I had accidentally left outside) had gone. Well, with breath like theirs, I could hardly blame them for stealing it. Perhaps there is a hyena on the Liuwa Plain now with bright shiny teeth, and fresh minty breath.


 

The journey out from the park was a hard but fascinating one. I was sad to say goodbye to this wonderful wilderness, but also happy to be returning to the real world. And so, for three more days we travelled in convoy-style across sandy tracks and potholed roads, passing through villages and crossing the Zambezi several times on dodgy looking ferries.
 

It took us half a week to cover a scant 200 kilometres, but the sedate pace gave us ample opportunity to greet the thousands of friendly faces who lined the way for us.
 

And then, at the very end of the road, we arrived back at civilization, in the bustling town of Livingstone. There we ate fine, five-star fare and slept in comfortable beds in luxury lodges next to the magnificent Victoria Falls.
 

But already I found myself missing that wilderness feeling, those flies in my coffee and the snickering of unseen things at the foot of my bed.

Photography by Dale R Morris

Travel Facts

getting there

• Kenya Airlines has frequent flights to Kenya in combination with Qantas or Thai Airways, with onward connections to Lusaka in Zambia. Phone 1300 787 310 or visit www.kenya-airways.com

getting around

• If you have a time budget it is best to travel with an organized tour, of which there are many. If travelling around Liuwa Plain, do plenty of advance research and planning. You will need to have good mechanical and off-road driving skills. There are a number of 4x4 car hire specialists in the region who will rent you a fully equipped camping vehicle. Some of them offer delivery and recovery options. Visit www.drivesouthafrica.co.za
• African Travel Specialists, phone 03 9576 1980 or visit www.africantravel.com.au
• Intrepid Travel, phone 1300 364 512 or visit www.intrepidtravel.com
• Swagman Tours, phone 1800 808 491 (in Australia) or 0800 447 926 (in New Zealand) or visit www.swagmantours.com.au
• Wildlife Safari, phone 1800 998 558 or visit www.wildlife-safari.com.au

when to go

• It’s almost impossible to get to the Liuwa Plain during the flood season, which begins in December/January and usually recedes sometime around May.

tip

• At the time of writing, Australians are granted a visa of up to 90 days upon arrival, which will cost around US$25.

further information

• Two good websites on Zambia are www.zambiatourism.com and www.zambia-travel-guide.com. For more information on Liuwa Plain National Park, visit www.liuwaplain.com