Last feast of the lions

and backwash, silky white coves hem in the azure waters, overlooked by a chain of wild jungle-draped rolling hillocks and mountains.
It is from the peaks that wild animals streak to the lakeshore to quench their thirst and feed on the lush green vegetation. From the shaggy water buck to the nimble-footed duiker, the spindle-legged impala to the boisterous jumbo and sluggish hippo, the lake is a source of life.
It is uncommon to see elephants graze on the shoreline, their massive bodies half-submerged in water and lions – the undisputed kings of the jungle – stalking their prey and hunting for survival with amazing precision.
On the lakeshore, human settlement exists dwarfed by the lake and the flourishing lakeshore vegetation. In most cases, wild animals and human beings criss-cross without much ado.
Mahombekombe high-density suburb is one such residential area squashed between the mountain foot and the lake-shore. There, houses totter and hang precarious on the lakeside mountain slopes, backed in the foreground by thick riverine vegetation, where the human eye can hardly see beyond 15 metres. Apostolic sects also use the bush for their prayers.
At around midday on Tuesday March 5, 2013 Sharai Mawere (43) was at her roadside market, vending vegetables, when her lover of six months, Daniel Muzarabani, called her to their love nest in the backyard thicket.
Away from her three children at home and gossipy neighbours, the bush love nest was most convenient.
A huge acacia tree provided the shade, while the undergrowth provided the comfort and the secrecy. This must have been a love nest for many couples, too, given the amount of latex strewn around.
Within minutes they hooked up at the place and as planned it was 10 out 10. Tragedy struck as they stood up to dress. A lioness swooped from the thicket, attacking Sharai and dragging her through the vegetation undergrowth.
Panic-stricken, Muzarabani took to his heels, one leg into his pair of sleeping shots, another out, stopping to put the second leg in after some distance, he dashed to the police station. Panting and panicking, he cooked up a story line.
“It was just minutes after midday. He came to the police station dressed in a pair of sleeping shots and visibly shaken. No shirt, no shoes! His first story line was not convincing. He said he had been walking along a footpath when some brownish animal swooped on a woman he was about to come across, going the opposite direction.
“On further interrogation, he seemed to change his story line. When we took him to the scene, the story changed again until we warned him to tell the truth and eventually he owned up and told his real story.
“The woman was his lover. A lion attacked while they were about to dress up. He took us to the love nest and there we found their clothes, used and unused condoms,” explained the Officer Commanding Kariba Police Station, Chief Superintendent Edias Tembo.
Muzarabani has since been taken out of the town by relatives.
A search party, involving National Parks and Wildlife Management Authority professional hunters, the Civil Protection Unit and private professional hunters was immediately instituted.
While searching for Sharai’s body, the party stumbled upon Mushunjeni Jakiel Mike’s remains — a hand, a skull and pelvic girdle.
It turned out that Mike (77) had met his fate while on his way from a beerhall in the suburb on Monday night. His son, Nelson, had reported him missing. No one had suspected a lion attack, until his remains were discovered.
The hunt for the lions then started. Panic-stricken residents went talking and retelling the story. The versions changed every second, every minute and every hour. Everyone withdrew from the streets. There was a curfew. In the gossip mill, the number of lions swelled up, at times, the number went up to 10. The number of killed people increased too. At some stage the residents put the figure of people killed to five. But there were no such people missing. Kariba was shaken. The situation was confusing. No one followed the official story line. Such is the effect on a shocked community.
On the first search day, the party wanted to retrieve Sharai’s body and also account for the lions. Muzarabani’s description, the spoor and Mike’s remains, confirmed it was the work of lions.
During the search, a lioness pounced.
Swooping from the thicket and missing its target, a National Parks ranger. In the dramatic melee, the ranger was coincidentally shot on the leg, as his colleagues tried to protect him from the lion that attacked from behind. In fact, the gunshot saved the ranger as the lion swiftly retreated.
It became apparently clear that the felines had become man-eaters. They were hunting for sure.
Sharai’s lifeless body was found under a tree, a spitting distance from the love nest. She had not been eaten. The lions must have killed her for a future meal.
Kariba district administrator Mr Amigo Mhlanga, who chaired the Civil Protection Unit and the Parks area manager, Mr Samson Chibaya, bore the brunt.
Pressure mounted. The lions had to be accounted for before they killed more people.
“The shooting of the ranger was accidental and regrettable. On the other hand it saved the same ranger as the lioness flew at him, from behind. The lioness attacked when we least expected and we had to fire at it. It was at that time that one of the rangers was shot,’’ says Mr Chibaya.
Sharai and Mike’s remains were buried, separately, at a local cemetery on Thursday afternoon. Speeches centred on two consenting adults, being unfortunate.
There was no one to blame.
“There is no one to blame here, but the lions. These were adults who were in love and not married. Who knows, if my sister was not killed by the lions they would probably get married one day. We cannot blame anyone ,’’ said Jorum Mawere.
As days went by, pressure mounted. More fear gripped the residents. Any movement in the bush was attributed to lions. Some even ran away from dogs on first sight, only to laugh at themselves.
On Thursday, the team of hunters had increased. The determination was high and the desire to kill the lions was resolute. Translocating them was out of question, for they had tasted human blood.
The lions were baited in the general area of the love nest, using goat and zebra carcasses. It was clear the felines were hungry. The bush was dense. Anytime they would pounce on the search party. The wet ground and green grass made it difficult to detect sound of movement, unlike in the dry season where twigs and tinder dry grass and tree leaves crack under the feet.
There was no going back for the search party. At around 6:15pm on Thursday, under the silhouette sunset, the search party came across the lions, within the vicinity of the bait.
The lions were swift and fast. In the blink of an eye, they retreated into the thicket. At least the search party counted three of them, a lioness and two sub-adult cubs. The search party took positions on the, makeshift blind. There was silence. The rule was that no one should talk, cough or move. Yet, one needed to be on the alert for an attack from behind. The formation was technically tight. One could hear his neighbour breath. You could hear the sound of the heart pumping.
For about two hours the lions did not appear. No one stood down. Everyone kept his position. The commander had not given a contrary instruction.
Suddenly at around 8pm, a cub appeared from the thicket and went straight for the goat bait. The bait was in a wire cage and for a moment, the cub seemed not to notice that it was trapped in the cage. Its powerful jaws cracked the bones.
The commander did not give the instruction to shoot. The lioness and the other cub remained hidden behind the cage, partially appearing within the shooting range. She was cautious. She must have been an experienced hunter.
Noticing he had been trapped, the male cub – about a year old – started ripping off the cage, using its powerful jaws to break the wires. The sound of breaking wire was clear. The commander counted “one, two, three” then at the twitch of the finger, a flashlight was used to show the hunter and in a split second, the cub was shot dead. There was a deep groan. It was a bull shot. Right on the eye.
The lioness and the other cub disappeared for another hour or so. Everyone kept their position. The night was dark and dead quiet and so was Mahombekombe suburb below. The hunters kept their positions on the blind, their backs to the suburb. No one talked. No one smoked. No one coughed. No one wanted to spoil the hunt. After all, it was dangerous. Every slight movement in the thicket, was accounted for.
About two hours later, the lioness appeared. It must have been hungry and also worried about its cub. It put itself within shooting range and once again, the alert commander counted. Flash light, then shot. It was a front leg shot that went along the body. A deep groan. The lioness still moved off.
Confused, the second cub appeared, giving itself away to another clear shot. The same process! The commander sighed relief but did not give instructions to stand down. There was another hour on position. Silence. Breathing. Silence. Silence. Around midnight it was time to stand down. As a rule, no one searches for a shot lion at night. It is dangerous. It might be injured and not dead.
At 8am on Friday the search party gathered and went up the thicket, carefully. There, the lioness lay lifeless, 40 metres from where it was shot. Its intestines dangling out like a huge sausage. It had dragged its intestines 30 or 40 metres away, until life went out.
The male cub lay lifeless, too, in the cage while its sister lay dead in the valley below.
Kariba exploded. Business came to a virtual standstill when the hunting party emerged from the bush with the lifeless lions. Pupils poured out of schools, businesses closed and vehicles jammed roads in Mahombekombe suburb, amid jubilation as residents sought to have a glimpse of the felines.
It was the last feast of the lions.