Sue points out some of the students who have come through the CITW programme years before. “Over there, driving the tractor, that’s Noma”, she says proudly.
It seems we’ve arrived just in time for driving lessons, as told by the mix of excitement, panic, and laughter in the air. It’s Noma’s first time operating such a behemoth piece of equipment, understandable given what a rarity they are in rural areas like this, where livelihoods farmers are used to hand-held hoes or donkey-drawn ploughs.
"And the young man with the butternuts in his wheelbarrow is Ernest. I’ve known both of them since they were probably about 10, when they first entered our programme”, Sue continues.
My attention turns to the motorbike, which has just skidded in beside us, kicking up a cloud of dust. Its rider removes his helmet, revealing a beaming Artwell Moyo, Ngamo’s Farm Manager.
“Let me give you a tour!”, he shouts, his ringing ears still recovering from the deafening engine.
Artwell’s enthusiasm is palpable, and I try to keep up, as he gestures towards 100-odd metres of vegetable and crop tunnels, as well as an experimental greenhouse. “This is our nutritional garden, our pride and joy”, he says. “Everything we put into the soil here is organic, so we avoid harmful pesticides, which degrade the land for future generations”. He then points to the nearby solar panels, explaining that they keep the farm off the main grid, powering the borehole water pump, irrigation systems, geysers, and general electrical needs. “Nothing goes to waste here at Ngamo”, he declares proudly, detailing how the biogas system outside the kitchen turns organic matter like food waste or cow dung into gas that the staff and students can use to cook. “Soon we’ll have a state-of-the-art abattoir on site, and we’ll be able to sell beef to Wilderness camps, along with the produce they already buy from us”.
We walk and talk, passing a chicken coop, a cattle kraal, and water and feed troughs, the latter designed to give the local community’s livestock an alternative to roaming too close to Hwange, where their chances of encountering opportunistic lions and hyenas are very real.
"Just months ago, this region suffered its worst drought in decades”, recounts Artwell solemnly. “Our people and livestock suffered. Some cattle were too weak to even stand… they just never got back up again. So, for the people of this area, what we have created here is more than just a farm or a college. It’s a source of hope".
The sun has emerged and the mercury is much higher than I’m used to for 09h00, so I’m relieved when my guide ushers me into the shade of an Acacia, one of the many trees preserved during the groundbreaking of the site. Under it, Senior Lecturer Lawrence Matshazi is on his haunches drawing a diagram in the sand with a stick. His face is animated, his voice authoritative, as he illustrates the idea of farming for the future.
"You are here to empower your communities with the skills to not just survive, but thrive. What we are doing at Ngamo is maintaining our environment in a healthy manner for the long term, while deriving livelihood from it. This place should be an inspiration".
Lawrence’s students are hanging on his every word, drawn in by his contagious conviction. Here, in this modest outdoor classroom, with a backing track of bleating goats and birdsong, Lawrence is sowing the seeds of sustainability among the next generation.
I, too, could listen for hours. But to our west, cumulonimbus clouds are gathering with gusto, signalling an imminent thunderstorm and our time to bid farewell to the students and staff of Ngamo.
As our vehicle dances across the dirt, the sun reflects off the wet road. Squinting ahead, Sue’s trained eyes pick up some movement; it seems there’s time for a game drive after all. Drinking from a muddy puddle are three lionesses and a litter of cubs, perhaps the very pride whose paw prints we noticed at dawn.
Back at camp Eddie is waiting, and he waves us in with one hand, while balancing a tray of homemade iced tea in the other. “How did you enjoy Ngamo?”, he asks, as he leads us towards yet another spread of guilty pleasures. “Did you meet my family?”. It turns out Eddie comes from one of the nearby communities too. His brother, cousin and nephew have all been through CITW, and are now among Ngamo’s first 40 pioneering students, thanks to the CITW Scholarship Programme.
As I step out onto the Davison’s deck to take in the view, I notice a herd of elephants that has made themselves comfortable at the camp’s waterhole, much to the dismay of the blacksmith lapwings nesting nearby. I look towards the horizon, imagining that the fresh produce I’ve enjoyed during my stay – the silky scrambled eggs, hearty butternut soup, and perfectly-cooked beef fillet (did I mention the muffins?) – came from nearby.
And then the penny drops. At Wilderness, and the promising Ngamo Livestock Farm and Vocational Centre on their doorstep, I don’t need to imagine… supporting local is already a reality.
