Kariba Five-O!

Fifty years ago the Kariba Dam stemmed the mighty Zambezi!|s flow, creating one of the largest man-made lakes in Africa. Philip Dickson and photographer David Godny look back at its history and discover Zambia and Zimbabwe!|s emerging Riviera

In 1955, after a decade of indecision, the former colonial government of modern-day Zambia and Zimbabwe pushed through its controversial plan to build a much-needed hydroelectric dam at Kariba. Within a year, work had begun on one of the greatest engineering feats in the history of Africa. For more than three years the formerly tranquil gorge reverberated with the unceasing roar of compressors and the persistent rumble of mixers and crushers. Concrete was churned round the clock and moulded into a giant arching wall as powerful mechanised monsters with snarling engines and great steel jaws chewed and thrust their way through virgin bush. Muffled sounds of explosions echoed through the air, sending up long feathers of acrid smoke to drift listlessly with dust and debris across a choking sky, as blasts penetrated the core of the gorge.

On May 16th, 1960, calm returned to the valley when the dam was officially opened by HM Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother. The rising wall of concrete at the neck of Kariba gorge now blocked the Zambezi』s path, unveiling an entirely new landscape. Held inside this mountainous basin fringed by teak forests and nature reserves emerged one of the largest man-made lakes in history. Half a century later, Kariba』s eerie landscape and seductive charm casts an ethereal spell over African fjords and placid backwaters. Scorched skeletal branches from half-drowned fossilised trees pierce the sky – some topped with great untidy nests of herons and fish eagles – while channels spill into wetlands, and verdant islands allow hippo, elephant, and buffalo to cross this serene Eden for grazing.

But this serenity belies a turbulent and violent past. Vast areas of the Zambezi floodplain were submerged, destroying hundreds of local villages on ancestral lands and causing severe loss of habitat to countless wild animals. Threatened by the rising flood waters, 30,000 displaced Tonga people were resettled in the Zambian towns of Sinazongwe and Siavonga, and the greatest animal rescue operation since the biblical story of Noah』s Ark was launched. Operation Noah saved over 7,000 animals ranging from snakes to elephants, all heroically captured and released into protected wildlife areas.

At Sinazongwe we caught-up with Joe Brooks. Now aged 81, Brooks moved to Zambia in 1954. Two years later he was resettling the Tonga people, rescuing stranded animals in Operation Noah, and witnessing the preparation of the new lake bed for fishing.

「It was an epic task clearing over 350 square miles of dense bush so that our nets wouldn』t be snared on a ragged coastline of dead trees,」 Brooks recalls.

Huge trees linked in pairs by stretches of battleship anchor chain attached to 8-foot high steel balls were dragged through the dust a few feet from the ground, scything a swathe through the virgin bush as they jerked into life.

「I remember tall trees trembling violently, lurching forward and slowly swaying and crashing in a cloud of dust as hundreds of chattering birds exploded into the skies,」 says Brooks. 「And bulldozers trundled behind like scavengers, pushing the debris forward into neat funeral pyres over 5 miles long. As it burned for days, a thick pall of smoke hung in the air obliterating the sunlight.」

With ashes buried, towering grass erupted from the fertile lake bed after the first rains and birds flocked from far and wide for an incredible fishing bonanza. 「It was an unforgettable sight,」 says Brooks, 「even attracting exotic flamingos.」

A less welcome invasion, however, was the Nile cabbage, salvinia (floating fern), and water hyacinths that soon choked the new lake. 「Weeds rippled in waves like a giant mattress and my kids used to jump in and bounce around,」 Brooks laughs. The plague was finally eradicated by raising and lowering the lake level and then painstakingly clearing the decaying vegetation.

Today, Kariba』s shoreline and islands are dotted with unpretentious resorts offering water sports, tiger-fishing, sundowner cruises, and game viewing. But it』s Kariba』s commercial fishing industry that has transformed the valley』s economy. Thanks to kapenta, a tiny protein-rich sardine-like fish, towns like Sinazongwe and Siavonga are thriving.

「Approximately 25,000 tonnes of the high protein kapenta are caught annually,」 explains Bernard Mulenga. At 47, Mulenga has fished on Lake Kariba for over 25 years and is general manager of eight fishing rigs at Sinazongwe. 「Kariba』s fishing industry has dramatically changed the lives of hundreds of Zambians and Zimbabweans no longer forced into Lusaka, Harare, or the Copperbelt for work.」

Kapenta stock were painstakingly introduced to Kariba from Lake Tanganyika over 40 years ago. Today the vast shoals are attracted at night by the lights of the tiny fishing vessels. On a moonless night the eerie lake becomes a glittering jewel. Flickering lights from the distant kapenta fishing rigs twinkle as they chug slowly across the darkened waters, scooping out huge shoals of silvery fish that wriggle and glisten in the dripping dip-nets. 「Most of the haul is salted and sun-dried,」 explains Mulenga, giving the affordable kapenta a lengthy shelf-life and making them easy to transport anywhere in southern Africa without refrigeration.

Heading to Chikanka Island, 8 kilometres from Sinazongwe, we stopped for fuel at the busy market town of Choma and amazingly found the original monstrous steel spheres still in the grounds of Choma museum less than 30 miles from the lake.

After boarding a converted fishing rig at Lake View resort on the Zambian side of Lake Kariba, we puttered to the unspoilt island of Chikanka with hosts Keith and Lee-Ann Coyne. Cutting quietly around Chete, Kariba』s largest island, we drifted past lumbering elephants foraging in the grasslands as hippos suddenly broke the surface with the hydraulic hiss of escaping air, and skulking crocodiles slipped begrudgingly off warm sandbanks. Chikanka』s lowlands and hilly backdrop soon floated towards us, and Eddie, our skipper, beached on a sandbank so we could wade ashore.

Chikanka is now an archipelago of three wooded islands covering 600 acres, and apart from the lodge is a deserted, pristine wilderness like a forgotten land. Five chalets perch high above its green-swathed cliffs, facing the lake to catch any breeze, with an endless view of the drowning landscape below fading into the far horizon for 280 kilometres.

In the late afternoon we meandered through Chikanka』s dense narrow channels that revealed a hidden world where hippo trails criss-cross the island and plains game graze. As the long day drew to a close, Kariba』s renowned reputation for iconic sunsets didn』t disappoint. As the evening sun waned and cooled, drawn magnetically towards the horizon, it reluctantly dipped beneath a vast limpid sky. As we disembarked in the ghostly twilight Chikanka was reverently hushed, while overhead the undersides of the lofty clouds were painted a magnificent fiery red.

The next day we explored the sprawling northern shoreline at Siavonga, only 2.5 hours from Lusaka on a scenic road that winds through a dramatic escarpment leading down to the lake. At the turnoff to the dam wall we discovered one of Zambia』s national monuments, the Chirundu Fossil Forest. This ancient woodland is scattered with remnants of primordial trees naturally preserved for over 150 million years, surrounded by clusters of giant baobabs still thriving in the landscape beyond.

The dam wall itself is an immense grey concrete structure, and also the border-post with neighbouring Zimbabwe where the road leads to the old town of Kariba. More than a million cubic metres of concrete were used to build the 24-metre thick, 128-metre high and 617-metre long curving barrier, and sadly 86 workers lost their lives during its construction. After 50 years, the Kariba Dam is still an impressive monument to man』s engineering genius, providing vital hydroelectric power to two nations as well as a thriving fishing industry and huge tourism potential.

Perhaps because of its brutal creation, Kariba has endowed Zambia and Zimbabwe with a special kind of legacy. This watery landscape seems wilder, bigger, and more visceral than almost any other man-made lake anywhere, offering unpretentious pleasures in an empty enduring paradise – perhaps one of the last such magical places in Africa today.

Philip Dickson and David Godny would like to thank Keith and Lee-Ann Coyne of Lake View Lodge, Sinazongwe, for their kind hospitality on Chikanka Island (www.lakeview-zambia.com).

Philip Dickson is a freelance travel journalist drawn to Africain his late teenswhen he moved to Zambia, the home of the mighty Victoria Falls and the game-rich Luangwa Valley. Since then he』s climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, survived a close encounterwith crocodiles in Lake Tanganyika, micro-lighted and bungee jumped over the Victoria Falls, bushwalked with wild lions, safaried on elephant-back and witnessedthe birth of a nation in Zimbabwe. Working with wildlife photographer David Godny they specialise in features about this enigmatic continent with its rugged beauty and vast wild horizons.

peering through the reed: elephant in reed bed, lake Kariba www.davidgodny.com