Saeed,

I don't really know where to post this report but I do know that some guys on AR are interested in this adventure. I will be adding to and editing it over the next few days as well as adding pictures. Please feel free to move it anywhere you think is suitable. But please also remember that our trust fund is called 'Hunters for Zimbabwe'! I trust you and yours are well, Regards David

BORDERLINE REVIVAL

Greetings friends,

First of all let me apologize for the lack of updates/articles in recent times. I am trying to rectify the situation and in so doing also trying to get over a year long bout of writer’s block, so please bear with me. Yes, I know it’s only an excuse for laziness

This walk has become an adventure the proportions of which I could never have imagined. And that’s saying something for my imagination is potentially runaway. Because of happenings I cannot hope to touch the surface of in this correspondence, or even in a series of magazine articles, The Borderline Walk has become the Zimbabwe countrywide tour! Where we have been, what we have seen, places, spaces and faces… Without getting too dramatic, at times I do need to take a minute to remind myself that it has all actually happened.

The Borderline adventure very nearly came to a grinding halt last year, a couple of times in fact. Successive setbacks – illness and exhaustion, Jephita quitting, financial problems, camera problems – brought about in me a state of extreme depression and I more than considered chucking in the towel, I actually had it in hand. Fortunately, I was able to build up mental and physical strength, sort out all the issues and keep on trucking, though most of 2010 was a right off as far as progress was concerned. On the bright side, I did make it as far as Mutare before Christmas and in the process completed the most efficient distance/days leg of the Borderline Walk to date – Mukumbura to the Honde valley in 27 days with only one down day. Although this walk has taken me as low as I have ever been, there has always been the bright side to look to. Sometimes dim, but always there, enabling me to attain the focus to tackle the next stage, find another walking partner, some more money, ponder how I’m going to deal with the difficulties that lay ahead…..

This may all seem a bit gloomy and make no mistake it was, but it is not now. Now, as the header of this letter/report suggests, new life has been breathed into the Borderline Walk. Of course there were going to be some extremely trying times, I just had to learn that the hard way. I am now as prepared as I’ll ever be for whatever is to come.

Things started going downhill as far back as Kariba, in late 2009. Up until that stage I was satisfied with progress – Victoria Falls to Kariba in 3 months and change, no problems there. Not fast, but steady. Managing, in that time, to cover a huge chunk of country and managing to take it all in. And then, just when I thought things were going to become more straightforward, the curveballs came in fast and furious and the decent pace we had set became a doddle interspersed with lengthy delays.

I wish to take this opportunity to commend my walking partner of 5 months and travelling companion of 9 months, Jephita Tumwi. There is absolutely no doubt that Jephita was the driving force behind the walk as far as Kariba. I was often down, and Jephita lifted me time and again. A resourceful, intelligent and energetic young man who contributed a huge amount to keeping the show on the road during the early stages. I was distraught for some time when he decided to pack it in.

An article covering the lower Zambezi stage will be in the next issue of www.africanxmag.com, with another – the eastern border to Mutare – in the pipeline. I refer to the the Kariba – Kanyemba (and beyond) stretch as the lower valley stage, knowing full well that it is actually known as the ‘middle’ Zambezi. It is for the purposes of the story – my ‘upper’ valley is between Victoria Falls and Kariba…. My ‘upper’ and ‘lower’ is in relation to Zimbabwe alone, for that is the land that the Borderline project is concerned with, after all.

Ironically, the river leg of the lower valley stage proved to be extreme challenging. Obviously this had nothing to do with the walking itself – but for Kariba and Mupata gorges, the terrain is flat and was a breeze after what we had already experienced. The lower valley challenges came in mental form and, as I was to discover, they would persist well beyond Kanyemba. The river leg was just warming up for the big game, insofar as mental challenge was concerned! I had pinned my hopes on reaching Kanyemba before the rains came in earnest, but we pulled out well short of that target, at Chikwenya, in Sapi safari area, in early December. Several factors brought about the decision to pull out from Chikwenya: we were behind time because of a lengthy delay in Chirundu, my camera was dying, Jephita had personal problems at home, and the rains were looming. I knew that if I didn’t take the opportunity at Chikwenya, there was a good chance we’d be two very bleak Borderline walkers – caught the wrong side of flooding rivers with no camera and only lions and elephants for company! It wasn’t a chance I was prepared to take and so being practical for a change and in so doing acting against all my instincts, I arranged a lift for us to Harare with the Chikwenya personnel who were also pulling out for the season. I was glum but cheered myself with the knowledge that I could use the time to arrange another camera and get some writing done. I got the camera (2 in fact – thanks to Alan Bunn and Canon) but didn’t get much writing done…..

We returned to Chikwenya in early March 2010. During the downtime, I had had several frank discussions with Jephita pertaining to his desire (or lack of) to continue with the walk. He assured me that all his problems were resolved and that he was as keen as he’d ever been. This proved not to be the case, but at the time I was suitably convinced. I have made many bad decisions during the cause of this expedition and they have cost me in time, money and peace of mind, but the worst decision I have yet made was agreeing to give Jephita another shot. I did not read his mindset correctly – the truth is that he was tired, his heart was no longer in it. I have since discovered the feeling and suffered the same symptoms, but at the time I couldn’t see them in Jephita, cleverly disguised as they were. In any case, we made our way back to Chikwenya (thanks to my uncle Malcolm for the lift to Makuti), and set off downstream once again, to G camp, H camp, Tafika fishing camp, Kapiriningu parks post (Chewore), Mwanja safari camp and, finally, to round off the Zambezi River stretch, 3 grueling days in Mupata gorge followed by a fairly straightforward 2 day hike into Kanyemba itself. I thoroughly enjoyed those two weeks – we passed through truly seldom seen country, saw a fair amount of game and enjoyed some memorable moments, but it all culminated in a major downer when Jephita gave up for good in Kanyemba. Mupata gorge was tough, make no mistake, but to this day, writing from Mutare, I still rate Kariba gorge as the most physically challenging country we have walked through. I know that that formidable gorge will not maintain its number one ranking, however – the Chimanimani mountains are looming…… And that is the very reason why I am spending so much time in Mutare – carboloading for the Chimanimanis!

Jokes aside, if that’s possible….So, there I was, stuck in Kanyemba with no walking companion, mentally and physically exhausted, beginning to fret about money again and extremely concerned about the way forward. I knew that I was facing a very difficult stretch – between the Angwa River and Nyamapanda – and I also knew that I was not in the right frame to tackle it. Another serious dose of malaria didn’t help matters. On the bright side, I enjoyed spending time with the Vadoma people in the Kanyemba area. The Vadoma are a vanishing tribe, and sadly theirs is a dying culture. I have never come across people so tuned in to their environment, so knowledgeable and competent in the bush. What most people know about the Vadoma is that ‘there are people in the Zambezi with only two-toes’, but there is a great deal more to the Vadoma than having two toes, and even the two-toed story is grossly exaggerated. Very few Vadoma have two-toes and less with each generation. The only positive I have gleaned from the knowledge that the Vadoma are a disappearing people is the fact that the genetic foot defect is going along with the culture. I will tell you much more about the Vadoma in the future, in magazine articles and when the Borderline book is published. I have visited Vadoma villages on and off now for 16 years, but I learnt more about them on my Borderline walk stopover than ever before.
I eventually managed to get on the road again with a part-time companion, Peter. Peter and I gelled well and although I was weak in all departments, we managed to progress from Kanyemba to Charlton/McCullum’s Pedzapasi safari camp, over the Angwa and on to Chidodo in just over a week. Many thanks to my friends Mr Buzz Charlton, Mr Robert Jolly and the rest whom we befriended at Pedzapasi for feeding us up and getting us back on track. Kind of….

Due to prior commitments, Peter was only able to accompany me for 2 weeks and he had to call it quits at Chidodo. I wish that his Borderline spell could have been longer because he was a fine walking partner. Although I say I was weak in all departments, we still managed to hike from Kanyemba to Pedzapasi in one day, a distance of over 40 kilometers and almost a Borderline record. That’s the thing with this Borderline expedition – extremism has often been the order… Much of the time has been spent either lounging about or walking too far and fast in a day. I have since taken measures to recticy this and Mukumbura to Mutare was completed at a decent rate – we were not lazy (walking every day but one), but when we were tired we stopped. We probably averaged about 20 kilometers a day and that seems to be a manageable distance. A distance we were able to handle day in and day out, bearing in mind that we are heavily loaded and are not commandos!
Chidodo brought about another major delay as I waited for Felix, yet another Borderline walker, to arrive from the lowveld, and it was mid-winter before we got going. Yet again, progress was slow and short-lived. I was not on form and the area between Chidodo and Mukumbura proved to be a major ordeal. It was not made any easier by the thugs who accosted and verbally abused us at some godforsaken little village close to nowhere, nowhere being Mukumbura. It was the first time I had encountered open hostility on the walk and I was just not in the right mode to deal with it. The one-sided racist haranguing had quite a profound effect on me at that stage and it was fortunate that I managed to maintain control. A couple of weeks after resuming from Chidodo, having covered very little territory, I stumbled out onto the road a few kilometers from Mukumbura and instructed Felix to flag down the next civilization-bound bus. I was exhausted, feeling sickly, in pain and more depressed than I have ever been. I no longer wanted to continue with the Borderline Walk. I had had enough and told myself I no longer cared about the walk, what it stood for or what anyone else thought of me surrendering. What I didn’t/couldn’t consider at that stage was what I would think of me surrendering, once I was back in shape. Of course, looking back now, in the hail and hearty condition I am in months later, there never was a choice. From the moment I took the first step from Victoria Falls there was no choice…From the moment I woke up late one night in early 2009 and posted my intention to do the walk on my favorite website www.accuraterloading.com, there was no choice….Truth known, there was no choice from the moment Mr Dean McGregor and I first discussed the Borderline expedition so many years ago….From that moment I knew it had to be done, somehow….

I let Borderline go for many weeks in Harare, as I recuperated at my aunt and uncle’s home. Thanks Fran and Malcolm, thank you very much, as always. Doctor appointments and blood tests revealed that all was not well and I was prescribed various medication and vitamins to deal with my body’s degenerated state. I dealt with my mind by blocking all thoughts of Borderline and socializing with friends, playing tennis etc. Needless to say, it didn’t take too long before I began considering a return to the border. I began to realize what I emphasized in the above paragraph – there never has been a choice, thanks to Mr McGregor! I mean, there certainly was a point where I wanted to give up, when I actually had the towel in my hand, but I just didn’t realize then that my mind would never allow my arm to even begin the throwing motion. And so I began mulling over the way forward once again, as I have so often done. I carefully analyzed my reasons for completing this expedition (will get to that) and thought through the problems we had faced and how to avoid them in the future. Probably my biggest concern throughout the walk has been money (who’s biggest concern isn’t?), and I spent a few weeks putting into practice a Borderline income generating project in the form of selling original Borderline photos printed on canvas. Whilst it hasn’t made me rich yet, it has proved to be a good idea and it went a long way to getting us back on track. I also tried my hand (not for the first time) at professional portrait photography and covered a few expenses that way. It has been my habit throughout this expedition to try and do things as independently as possible, and although I’ve certainly been assisted by others, I have had to try and find operating capital en route. No easy undertaking, as I discovered. What needs to be appreciated is that I put every cent (and then some) that I had into this adventure well before it kicked off, and that loot petered out not too long after kick off. Often I am asked why the walk costs so much money and the short answer is that it doesn’t – I measure my money in hundreds, not thousands, and I am better off than most in this country. Hand to mouth is a way of life that we Zimbabweans have perfected. Anyway, major costs of the Borderline walk include my walking companion and the times we have been ‘off the road’, in town or just not progressing. Basically living costs and paying someone else a salary. I do earn some money from writing (when I write!) but it is a pittance, not enough to pay half a walking companion’s monthly salary. Right now, as I write, I am alone (Felix packed it in when we reached Mutare) and so I fortunately don’t have to worry about paying wages for the time being. This brings operating costs down to less than half of what it has been. Anyway, enough bleating, there is always the bright side – I just thank my lucky stars for the equipment sponsorship I have received from Canon, Garmin, Iridium and the Supply Company through www.africanxmag.com and its editors, Alan Bunn and Mitch Mitchell. Without that support, I would still be trying to find enough money to start the walk!

I had to really psyche myself up to go back to Mukumbura, having a good idea of what was going to be in store. To understand what the way between Mukumbura and Nyamapanda was like, one needs to know a little about the history of the area. This area undoubtedly bore the brunt of the war in the 70’s and the people have not forgotten that. Mukumbura and the surrounding areas were the first places to experience the infamous protected villages and many people were killed there, both soldiers and civilians. During the war and for many years after the entire border zone between Mukumbura and Nyamapanda was one almighty landmine field. Though most of those areas have now been cleared (thank you Lady Diana), pockets remain and every once in a while a cow or elephant crossing from Mozambique detonates a mine. Anyway, to cut a long story short for the purpose of this report, white fellows aren’t exactly welcomed with open arms in the extreme north of the Mount Darwin area. Not many white fellows would know that though – I was the first white guy to pass through some of the more remote villages in over 30 years! The last time some of those villagers saw a white man was when soldiers passed through during the war, and obviously the majority of the younger people had never laid eyes on one. Before the advent of Mr Hulme, that is. No wonder they were a bit jittery when I came bumbling from the bush, bearded and backpacked….

For the most part, a bit of explanation and my national parks permit did the trick and we were not unduly hassled or delayed, but a couple of times we came across nasty fellows who were downright hostile. Both times it involved youth (pseudo war veterans) and booze. I was accused, amongst other things, of being a Rhodesian selous scout (thought they were disbanded in 1980), an American paratrooper (don’t think many of them could speak Shona), and of personally laying the landmines (I was much too young). On one occasion we were ‘interrogated’ by a mob of over a hundred youths for 5 hours. Nothing we said made any difference and the same questions (accusations) were barked at us time and again, accompanied by a fair amount of sprayed spittle. But it was exactly the type of situation I had been preparing for (been through it all before at another time in another place) and I was more than up for the challenge. Without losing my composure and hoping not to lose face physically, I defended our right to be wherever we wanted to be in this country we call home and which we are citizens of. Eventually, once the ‘war veterans’ (most of whom were born about 10 years after the war) had voiced themselves hoarse, they received a note from the local chief (he had caught wind of what was happening) instructing them to desist and allow us to pass freely. They went off muttering and Felix and I let out extended sighs of relief before retiring to our sleeping bags.

I do not want a couple of minor incidents to detract from the fact that, once over the initial surprise and suspicion, most of the people we came across between Mukumbura and Nyamapanda treated us as well as those in other areas have, with kind hospitality, in true Zimbabwean fashion. Even if suspicion or, indeed, hostility, did linger wherever we were at on any particular day/night, common decency always prevailed and I think that says plenty insofar as my countrymen are concerned. The fact is that some people were openly hostile towards us (me in particular), and that is unusual in this country. One may be the victim of a bit of verbal abuse from a few drunken louts in Zimbabwe (as in any other drinking nation), but beyond that….Well, yes, if you are a white fella on an extraordinary journey and you arrive at a village where the last white man the residents saw was a machinegun toting commando, then sure, you may even bear the brunt of some verbal from sober chaps. It comes with the territory. And yes, I would and will go back, on foot with pack….

It was great to get to Nyamapanda after 12 days of hard slogging through difficult country. It was not only frosty receptions we had had to deal with en route – with a couple of exceptions (the Ruya and Mazowe river valleys), Mount Darwin north/Mutoko is a drab, waterless tract of land where no animals besides goats, dogs, chickens and the odd cow exist. It is true that you can’t choose where you’re born, but I cannot figure how anybody could stay in Mount Darwin north long after birth. As I am always promising, one day you will be able to read an unabridged account of this whole adventure and will hopefully then be able to get a better idea of all the areas, people, happenings I mention in these inadequate reports/articles. For now, I can only relate what I able to, just to give you an idea.

So, there we were in Nyamapanda, Felix and I, happy to be making good progress through Mutoko and looking forward to getting into the Nyanga district and the beginnings of the eastern highlands. I have nothing negative to write about Nyamapanda besides the fact that it is a typically litter-laced, downright dirty border town. I noticed the dirt but did not focus on it as the people were not overly perturbed about encountering a white guy and that was refreshing. Also refreshing was that I didn’t have to whip out my tatty permit every five minutes for the whole town to see – less authorities (or wannabee authorities) per capita, it appeared. And so I forgave Nyamapanda for being a dirty border town (like all the others except Mutare and Kariba), and therefore won’t harp on any more about it in this report.

We rested for one day in Nyamapanda and moved out early the next morning, truly walking south now for the first time, refreshed and as keen as two Borderline walkers with their tails up can be. And then we crashed in a big way, not 5 kilometers from Nyamapanda, when we came across a couple of guys and an oxcart ferrying a tragic cargo to Nyamapanda. The cargo was a boy child of 11 or 12 who had been blown up by an anti-personnel mine and had suffered massive blood loss, along with half of one arm and bits of his lungs. The boy was barely alive and would die 10 minutes later a little further up the drag, a little closer to the dirty border town he’d never see again…..

After urging the guys transporting the boy to make all haste, I dialed the inspector of the Nyamapanda police station on the satellite phone. Fortunately I had reported to him the previous day and had his number, and fortunately he answered promptly. It did not take a minute to relay the situation on the ground and I heard him barking orders to other policemen, mobilizing a rescue detail. All the while I was watching the oxcart slowly ascend the nest rise in the road, and I knew that the police detail would not make it in time. They could not, the child was a barely breathing, bled-out shell. I had finished with the inspector and was standing stock-still and shocked in the middle of the road, staring after the cart, Felix sitting head in hands on the roadside, when the boy (Bernard, as I later discovered) died. I knew exactly when he died because there was a woman in the cart shading his pathetically torn form from the sun and she began wailing, just before the oxen were brought to a halt. I turned and hoisted my backpack and walked away from Nyamapanda. Putting it behind me and looking forward, to the Ruenya River and beyond, towards Nyanga.

I am going to wrap up this report for the time being and finish it off over the next couple of days. When I continue I will tell you something of our time in the eastern highlands. For now let me just say that the eastern border has been the highlight of the entire journey for me. And the Chimanimanis are still to come! I’m sure they will be a highlight, in every sense of the word! I wish I could tell you more, but for a couple of reasons I cannot. As fine as they are, even the magazine articles do not really do this adventure that much justice. There’s simply too much to tell and not enough space to tell it all, and there are certain stories that cannot yet be told. But one day soon the book(s) will tell all. Yes, I have been working on the book, writer’s block and all.

Some good has come out of the terrible photo of the child mine victim I posted on Facebook before Christmas. I have since been in touch with a representative of Halo, a British based mine clearing outfit, and he actually went down to Nyamapanda to look into it for himself. The area between Nyamapanda and the Ruenya river is packed with mines – a solid block of death 30 kilometers long by several kilometers deep. The area was obviously overlooked when mine clearing operations were taking place around Mukumbura and elsewhere during the 90’s. I think it is unforgivable that children are still being killed by landmines more than 30 years after any official conflict in this country (let alone elephants and livestock), and I sincerely hope somebody begins work on the problem soon. There will be no silence from this quarter until something positive does come about. Due to lack of physical evidence, I suppose I took all the mine stories I heard en route with a pinch of salt. After witnessing first hand the horrific consequences of having uncleared mine fields out there, I will never again take the stories with anything other than utter seriousness. It is a deadly serious problem and I strongly urge our authorities to liase with mine clearing organizations and take drastic action. After coming across the dying boy, I can across several amputees between Nyamapanda and the Ruenya, and early one morning I heard a detonation in the distance. The minefields of Nyamapanda are a very real danger to all that live in that area.

I have just spoken to my editor, Mr Alan Bunn, and he said although he is happy I am getting over the year long writing drought (am I?), if I want to get the lower valley article into the February issue of www.africanxmag.com, I need to submit it before close of day tomorrow. I still have some brushing up to do on that story and so I really will end off here now and continue once the working day closes tomorrow. Once I have completed reporting, I will include some pictures to help make sense of the words. I have taken 35000 photos so far. Finally, I will end off in a couple days time by posting a complete overview of the walk, as well as an outline of what I hope to achieve by completing it and what happens when it ends. I intend pushing on through the eastern highlands next week and should be walking through Gonarezhou next month some time….

I am well aware of the fact that there is far more ‘I’ and ‘me’ in my reports/stories than there should be, and I am also well aware of the fact that without the help of others behind the scenes and on the ground I wouldn’t have even started this adventure. For now, I will just say a general thank you from the bottom of my heart to all the people who have helped me to keep it going, and another general thank you to all of you out there who have tried to keep following the story against the odds. Your support is much appreciated. Stay tuned for the next installment of Borderline Revival.

David Hulme

PS. A couple of interesting points I forgot to mention…. When I went to report to the Nyamapanda police, I noticed about 30 foreign looking men outside the station. It transpired that they were Somalian refugees who had made their way by boat down the coast of Africa to try and find somewhere safe! Apparently, Mozambique does not have a refugee friendly policy and so they do all they can to get to Zim…

I also just wanted to say how fantastic the Mutare community has been to me. I have been kind of adopted by this town and their support is humbling. I have done a few talk/slide shows – at a public venue and in private homes – and the response has been great. Thank you Mutare! More about this splendid town and its inhabitants soon!

The revival begins with a single step.

God speed and good luck.

Looks like you got over your writers block.

@ two seventy: Don't ya think! I would hate to see it if he ever got on a writing 'jag', we would have to go to monthly publication just to keep up with him.

@ David: It was great to get the Skype thing going with you, and even though your computer cam ain't hooked up yet, at least you got to gaze on my god-like countenance. I'm sure the shock of my bleary visage was enough to shake anyone out of a writing drought.

David, good to hear from you, thanks for posting. All the best!

Hi Dave
Many thanks for the update.
Good luck and best wishes.
Rob

David,

Thanks for the update and what an iteresting read. I had tried for a while to keep up to date on the walk and was wondering where you were with it. Keep plugging away and I look forward to future updates, articles and most of all the book.

George

Long distance hiking is, in and of itself, a mental challenge; I know a few folks in my hiking circles that have done 1500-2500 mile(or longer) thru-hikes. Some are successful, some not; aside from physical issues the mental aspect of facing another day on the trail can be daunting. So don't feel alone on that count....

The fact you are attempting it under let's say "less than ideal" conditions is remarkable.

Good luck on the rest of your journey; and stay safe on the trail.

David: Outstanding report! When you get down and out, remember that we AR members are pulling for you!

Hi Dave,

So good to see your update here. What a great read! I wish you the best on this journey and remember, if you don't mind, it don't matter! Infamous words from an old drill sergeant I had the pleasure of knowing....

Thanks for the encouragement folks, as always. More to come soon and some pictures, guaranteed. I think Mr Buun and Mr Mitchell are considering extending the article deadline by one day, so I am busy polishing on that front. For those of you who have been trying to follow progress, please don't despair, there will be a story in this month's www.africanxmag.com.
Alan, would you mind brushing your hair before we have our next online conference call? Thanks

Thank you all, David