Ngamo: Story of an African farm

Together, they form a soundscape that lulls me into a meditative state. No studio, instructor, or mindfulness mobile app needed. Just the untamed and unscripted sounds of nature. It would be so easy to puff the pillows up and take a duvet day. 

But the morning’s prospects are too good to miss, so I rise and (not really) shine, before the snooze button on my alarm tempts me any further.

At the camp’s stunning main area, I am greeted by a warm fire and an even warmer smile from Waiter, Eddie Ncube. He offers me a welcome cup of hot coffee, before showing off a table spread with tantalising breakfast treats. It’s not even 06h00, and the chef has already whipped up fresh bread rolls, baked over the coals just minutes ago, and perfectly-prepared scrambled eggs with roasted tomato and herb relish. There are platters of fruit, yoghurts, cheeses, cold meats, and cereals too. And, as if those aren’t enough, Eddie unfolds a napkin revealing the coup de grace; muffins so fresh they warm my hands and melt in my mouth. Heavenly!

The arrival of a vehicle brings me back to Earth and signals the start of the day’s activity. I pack another muffin for the road, before getting acquainted with Sue Goatley, Impact Manager for Wilderness Zimbabwe, and my host for the morning. I wave my thanks to Eddie, as the four-wheel-drive springs to life, flicking wet mud behind us. Destination: the newly-launched Ngamo Livestock Farm and Vocational Centre.

Sue and I get chatting, and I quickly realise that this is much more than your typical game drive. Instead of following the lion tracks in front of us to relatively dry ground (they do say cats don’t like water), we take the road definitely less travelled – and more muddy – heading in the direction of the park boundary.

“As the crow flies it’s only about 30 kilometres to Ngamo. But with all the rain we’ve had recently, it’ll probably take us about one-and-a-half hours. So get comfy”, says Sue with a wry smile.

She’s driven these floodplains hundreds of times while leading annual Children in the Wilderness (CITW) Eco-Camps, when Wilderness closes its lodges to paying guests to instead host kids from nearby communities on life-changing environmental education camps.

And they’re not called floodplains for nothing. Out here, stuck in the mud is no child’s play. We reach an intimidatingly long stretch of water and I start to wonder if following the lion spoor wasn’t the safer bet.

Sue puts the vehicle into low-range, and, after some slipping and sliding, gets us to terra firma and safely through Ngamo Gate, where the national park technically ends, and community-owned land begins. 

Technically. There are no fences bordering Hwange, and even if there were, wild animals like lions, hyenas and elephants don’t appreciate being told where they can or can’t go, evident in the familiar footprints we pass en route.

We wind our way through a mosaic of mopane and Zambezi teak trees, before the forest is finally punctuated by signs of human life in the form of traditional homesteads, cattle kraals, and a school. From the playground, children stop to wave when they see Sue’s familiar face (and perhaps her muddy Wilderness vehicle).

Continuing around another bend in the dirt road, my eye catches an impressive wire mesh fence and gate. Above it the national flag fights with the wind. A humble sign reads “Ngamo Livestock Farm & Vocational Centre”, complemented with the logos of partners who have brought this vision to life, including Wilderness, and main benefactors, the German Federal Ministry of Economic Co-operation and Development (BMZ), KfW Development Bank, and the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN). 

But, as I am about to discover, what lies beyond the sign is a serious game-changer for the local community, and definitely something to brag about.

Inside, a group of students, brightly clad in brand new blue overalls, are already hard at work. An early start in this part of the world is crucial, before the African sun gets too high, and the midday heat unforgiving.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.