"It will only be uncomfortable for a few minutes, as the village is only 5 kilometers away," noted Stephen as we pile into the overcrowded vehicle. From our island camp we cross back over the dry eastern side of the Save river and on to Mahenye, the relocated village of the Shangaan people. The people were relocated here in 1967, when this remote section of southeastern Zimbabwe was designated as Gona-Re-Zhou National Park. Our lodge shares the name of the village, and is in partnership with it.

As we approach, we see many small modest huts scattered about the low-lying trees. A significant building houses the grain and local milling equipment (although we also observed many of the village women crushing the grain manually) and another building is defined as a modest clinic. Its shaded here, and there are a handful of people witnessing our arrival. The children run up to our slow-moving vehicle and behold something in their native tongue. The surprisingly well-educated people here in Zimbabwe often are very articulate in English -- having learned the language for many years in their formal schooling -- but also speak in various native tongues, mostly to each other. One of the tourists (us) asks "What are the children saying?" to which Stephen responds "Oh, their saying Look, white people! " I suppose they don't receive many visitors. We disembark and are greeted by a gentle looking man in his late 30's. Actually, he looks familiar. Could he be our head waiter at the lodge? Yes, in fact it is Caiphas Chauke. (I can't remember his made-up anglo name.) Not only is he our waiter, but as it turns out he's the son of the now-deceased Chief (one of his brothers has taken on those responsibilities) and Caiphas is the head of the watershed Campfire Program here at Mahenye Village.

The Campfire Program (Communal Areas Management for Indigenous Resources) "has a philosophy of sustainable rural development to enable rural communities to manage, and benefit directly from, indigenous wildlife and other resources. Getting a community interested in the Campfire Program rests on changing the belief that the State owns the wildlife to the belief that the wildlife is owned by the community who lives with it." (from The Rough Guide to Zimbabwe , May, 2000) Beyond this would be the gradual understanding that the wildlife (often terrorizing and destructive to communal people and land) can be also viewed as a beneficial resource; that is, with careful restraints, sport hunting and wildlife management can be accomplished while still maintaining a viable wildlife resource for future use and enjoyment. This is in direct opposition to the tired and irresponsible "let's move the natives to a reservation and then turn their sacred lands into national parks for the enjoyment of affluent visitors."

Caiphas explains that it goes something like this:

1 -- A budget is developed based on the sport-hunting revenues of a very limited number of animals; in Mahenye's case 5 bull elephants per year, (US $10,000 per bull elephant). (Other less desired species are also included in the budget; assuming, of course, less hunting revenue for these less-rare species.) It should be noted that there are thousands of African Elephants just across the river in Gona-Re-Zhou National Park, the former home of the Shangaan people.

2 -- "Customers" are located and escorted to the communal grounds for a hunt. (The fact that the head of the program also works in the adjacent upscale lodge seems like a well-thought-out marketing strategy, I would add.)

3 -- Guides, support services and other residuals are provided by the village, creating employment opportunities.

4 -- After the hunt is successfully completed, the hunter leaves with his "trophy" and the village reaps additional benefit from the meat of the animal.

5 -- A precise accounting of the procedure is listed with the appropriate government agency, and monies associated with the payment from the hunter eventually filter down to the village for the purchase of farming and well-digging equipment, clinic supplies and schools. The accountant was happy to share his "book" with me; although handwritten and crude by western standards, it was certainly well-executed and complete. The "junior accountant" revealed that it was his wish to attend college and become a corporate accountant. I'm sure he already "has the goods," but perhaps his job here at Mahenye Village is more significant.

The Campfire Program has a very important additional wildlife benefit; whereas previously the native people had little reason to dissuade poachers, now with the potential large revenues from legitimate big-game hunters they are onboard to assist in the elimination of the species-endangering poaching enterprise. In Zimbabwe poachers are legally shot dead on site, but still the activity persists, due mainly to the extremely high value placed on the nigh-extinct White and Black Rhino and their horns by some mid and far-eastern cultures. Rhinos, of course, are never included in such Campfire Program hunts, only much more common animals like the African Elephant and the African Cape Buffalo.

Sadly, the monies generated are often delayed by the government for as much as 18 months, making the precise budgeting very difficult and painful. Yet we visited 2 new school buildings and a granary whose raw materials were purchased with Campfire funds. All in all, it is an excellently conceived project with a hopeful future.

We continue on with our tour of Mahenye Village. We are greeting by many children and eventually make our way up to an area where our host lives. Under the shade from the late afternoon winter sun is a reclining elderly women, who manages a mild smile as we stop for a moment. "Who's that?" I ask, amid protests from my wife. (She thinks I talk too much, which I suppose could be true.) "Why, that's my grandmother, Machenjele Mwachingele (he wrote it down for me later!), the oldest person in the community." Although she was not totally visible with the harsh afternoon light, we could clearly see her feet and legs, and her smile, which revealed a full mouth of healthy teeth. She reclined gracefully and acknowledged our visit. By this time the group of 16 tourists had dispersed, so I believe only Cheryl, myself and Caiphas were actually near the matriarch. After some thought, I decided to ask the relevant, but perhaps disrespectful (hopefully not) question,

"How old is she?" "Well, she was born in 1896, so I guess she's 105," Caiphas responded. In absolute disbelief, I made him repeat it. "Oh no, she's definitely 105," he asserted. "She's outlived her son (his father and the former Chief) so now my brother (her grandson) is the Chief and" . . . "you're the head of the important Campfire Program," I added. "Yes, that's so," he agreed. I could not speak. I had never been witness to such an elder. What knowledge must she possess, I wondered? "She began with our people in South Africa, and then moved to what is now the national park, across the river. She also, of course, moved with us to here when we were relocated from our previous home in Gona-Re-Zhou," he added. "She speaks of all of the previous times, and is the only person alive who remembers everything," he continued. Several of the younger people are apparently writing some of this down, as unfortunately typically such wisdom is commonly being lost in villages all over the world. Of course she remembers all of the European trekkers pushing their village deeper and deeper into the bush and finally ending up here, at the confluence of the Save and Runde Rivers, in what has been described to us by a local as perhaps the wildest place in Africa. And here we are, witness to the ancient wisdom, to the final human matriarch of this entire section of the earth. It is an unbelievably profound moment.

After some time, I decide to attempt to record this moment. It almost seems flippant, but we decide to ask Caiphas and his grandmother for a photograph. He asks and with a weak smile, she approves. It is a wonderful moment, truly unanticipated and sublime. After some additional talks with the Headmaster of the Campfire-invested school, we return to our lodge on the island.

Why do the great behemoths swim across this ridiculous lake? Before the lake there was just low bush country (the lowveldt of southern Africa) punctuated by the great Zambezi canyon and waterway. Could it be that these pachyderms actually remember a time when they migrated down to the river? After all, the African Elephant is a migratory species -- and this trait is what at one time put the species in critical danger of extinction. Elephants don't care about international borders, and often would attempt to cross barbed-wire boundaries or just wander aimlessly along the fence until they died -- thankfully, some countries have developed strategies to either "keep" their wandering elephants or allow for the international migrations. So, could these specific elephants have remembered a time when they migrated to the river? No, as these are young bachelors, perhaps only 20 years old. The answer must truly be that these Matusadona elephants are somehow genetically coded to continue along ancient migration paths, probably thousands of years old. They "remember" -- perhaps they just think that there have been some "floods" recently, so in order to fulfill their core migratory function they must still continue along these ancient paths, even if they are "flooded." Actually, if this is their conclusion, then essentially they're correct, because the Kariba Dam, a supposed monument of human ingenuity (but actually an example of human arrogance against nature) will certainly fail in the next 100 years (as all dams worldwide will!). And then the ancient migratory paths will be revealed again to us, as they have always been to the elephants.

And so it is with the ancient wisdom -- whether it be in the form of the memories of a 105 year-old matriarch from remote southern Zimbabwe or in the somehow encrypted genetic code of the northern Zimbabwe Matusadona African Elephants -- the wisdom, I'm sure, will live on (even if the frailty of the human body does not). In another 100 years someone visiting the Mahenye Shangaan Village will be able to access the stories of Machenjele Mwachingele, probably written down by the village's first college graduate, who got his start as Mahenye's Campfire accountant -- and in the northern area, a visitor will be able to witness on foot the great migratory path of African Elephants as they timelessly make their way down to the replenished shoreline of the great Zambezi River, now gloriously revealed again after the Kariba Dam failure.