CHALLENGING A MAN-EATER

Each day is someone’s birthday. And this day is celebrated by many for the phenomenal event to either give thanks to parents, God or just to acknowledge the fact that they were born. Some of these birthdays coincide not only with good luck but with terrible happenings. My birthday is such a one!

Don’t judge me wrongly, Pal, unforeseen circumstances do happen to everyone.

That day I opened my small eyes to a dazzle of light on the earth, to feel the temperature outside another human being, to gulp some oxygen through my own narrow nostrils, smell natural and artificial fragrances for the first time, and of course, announce my triumphant arrival by way of an askari loud cry; I never even knew that on that same day, six decades ago, somewhere within the boundaries of a British Protectorate called Northern Rhodesia, where I was being dandled by an excited group of women, a white settler had died of lion wounds.

Picture Credit:  Elie Khoury

To tell you the truth, I’ve never seen a lion at close range. Even at Munda Wanga Botanical Gardens in Chilanga, I avoided coming near the cat because of its savagery history. I’ve seen it in pictures and read about it in storybooks. I do enjoy a song by P.K Chishala talking about Namweleu and Nshitiina Miloongo which killed many in North Zambia. But a vivid recollection of such an encounter by one victim, Walter Ridell Johnstone, a British South Africa Company‘s Assistant Collector, immediately before he died, made me think of what kind of life our fore-bearers endured.

Dr. I. P. A Manning, who has been working and doing business in Zambia from 1973, now based in Toronto has put together notes from colonial administrators in a compilation titled, “Game Trails of Northern Rhodesia,” from where I pick this sad but interesting historic piece in its original state:

“2nd October 1900, left Kabwerume tails at 6 a.m. shot a waterbuck close to a path after half an hour’s march; immediately on waterbuck dropping five lions appeared and commenced eating the carcass, as I could not afford to lose the meat for the ulendo I commenced to shoot at them at about 150 yards wounding two badly, whereupon three bolted.

After ascertaining that the carriers had gone safely past, I with the police went after the wounded lions and before long we made up on one which promptly charged, the police firing a useless volley and bolting; I waited until the lion was some twelve paces off, fired and hit him in the neck, this had the effect of turning the brute off, but only to pursue and overtake my kapitao, whom he seized on an anthill. Knowing that the lion was badly wounded I at once got quite close to him with the martini and snapped three cartridges at him, all of which missed fire;

finding that my gun was absolutely useless I went off alone, climbed a tree and shouted to my men who were nowhere to be seen, to bring me my well-nigh useless .303, or martini carbine which my Kapitao carried, and which by the way he had not fired when the lion charged (in the meantime the lion which had seized the Kapitao died, on top of the man after inflicting serious wounds on his body), leaving my useless martini at the foot of the tree. My shouts neither carriers nor police attended to although they were all within 100 yards, the noise brought to the foot of the tree the second lion which was bleeding freely from a wound in his shoulder, on seeing him I redoubled my shouts for assistance, to no purpose.

The lion without a moment’s hesitation came up the tree like a cat, notwithstanding the lowest branches were at least ten feet from the ground, seized me by the thigh, and fell with me to the ground, biting savagely and rapidly and growling angrily the while. He then commenced to gnaw me systematically, arms, hands, and fingers. and once or twice in some vain desperate hope to choke him I thrust my left arm as far down his gullet as possible; the lion appeared to be becoming either tired or weak, as I was able to keep him from biting my head by thrusting my hand in his mouth.

As a cat leaves a mouse, he left for a little and turned and lay, and watched me if in derision. I crawled to my martini, only three or four yards away, and snapped a cartridge at his head three times again, again three misfires. In despair, with broken fingers, I managed to get another cartridge out of my trouser pocket and get it into the chamber of the rifle, and steadying myself and the rifle against the tree shot him between the eyes. After which I sat down exhausted until the men and police summoned up the courage to come and look for me.

They carried me to the nearest stream and my wounds were washed by them in permanganate and cold water; after which I was stripped and carried in a stuffed machila to Chiluvia’s village, still being fully conscious, though awfully tired, and absolutely unable to assist myself in the slightest. From there I sent off men to ask Johnstone of Kalunguizi to send and come to my aid, and at the same time sent men to Kambole to call Dr. Mackay to meet me at Mporokoso. That night we had an alarm with lions but they did not enter the village. My wounds are as follows: left elbow, chewed and laid bare to the bone, wound 4” x 2”; numerous smaller bites and scratches, head, neck and shoulders; right forearm bitten through muscles, 4” x 2”; right hand dislocated, thumb and fingers literally chewed to the bone; left leg, three deep gashes; right two deep teeth wounds, right leg, badly bruised.”

Mr. Johnstone died on 25th October 1900 on his way to seek medical attention in Abercorn (Mbala). So, the Namweleus and them, man-eaters were so prevalent in Northern Rhodesia.

From the same archives, another story of lions preying in Lunga emerges:

1909 Melland and E.H. Cholmeley (Assistant magistrate at Serenje) visit the swamp islands of Ncheta, Chafye, and Itulo - residents of the last island run away.... (I will ask them when they resurrect!)

1961. From Ncheta in the swamps, Game Guard Kotoni Mateyo, makes a report:

"Dear Sir,

I have the honour to inform you that Headman Yampalwile of Mutoni camp was caught by a lion on the 1st of September and he died at Kapata dispensary – where we sent them – he was with his nephew named Kunda Jele, he was also caught – but Kunda is still in the hospital.

H. Yampalwile died on the 3rd of September. That is all sir. I have the honor to be sir, I am your servant.

Cotton Mateyo, Game Guard, Ncheta camp."

Wow! Reading this letter from a Game Guard is interesting. This servant later became His Royal Highness Chief Bwalya Mponda, also known as Ipaila, Kapapula Nchece, my grandfather. Today, you will find no lion in Lunga. Whatever happened to their offsprings.

SOURCE: Dr. I.P.A. Manning Compilation