“Sadly, if you are not of Africa, most soon will be. In the time it took our group of sixteen to secure our first bull elephant, six were dead. None over forty. Most younger. Two died fifteen minutes apart. All from illness. We had no penicillin in those days. A small rash could turn fatal in a day. It was a reversal of the problems your American Indians had with European disease. No imunities. Africa has fifty times the virulent diseases, plus, billions of ways to spread them almost instantly. Insects. From spiders you can eat like lobster, to twelve inch dragon flies, the insects would keep our Entomoligist busy twelve hours a day. We soon had species named after us in Latin. Now the mosquitos and other poisonous insects were nothing to laugh at. Where our new compound was located, there was a river cutting past one corner that swept into a wide, shallow area, before becoming shallow rapids about a half mile away…We had set up nearby these shallows for our soon to be procured elephants to bathe and cool off in. In our services were mahouts with two female cows to help gentle the new arrivals. They told us the running water was essential. I think this is what started all the sickness. Those horrid mosquitos would NEVER go away. Spraying kerosene from a hand pump seemed to work the best. Dilute it with mineral water first. Our tents had nets to keep them at bay, but there was no relief during the day. I would say I was spared for a couple of reasons. First, I became African. I ate what they ate, stayed away from things they stayed away from, and, most important, never ran myself down. Being lazy saved me, I’m positive. Since I was mainly an interpreter who picked up some dialects quickly, I would make sure I attended trips for supplies, meeting new arrivals, and things like that. I tried to never do any real work. Now, on the other hand, the men drove themselves constantly. Even while sick. They also stuck to European diets as much as they could. No African eats one hundreth of the staples of a white man. No refrigeration tends to do that to a people. Also, meat was a rarity. Too many people in a large village to share kills. Most made do with potato-like yams and garden grown squash and melons. Maily crops that insects couldn’t wipe out completely. Once our elephants were being trained, the pace accelerated to prove that the money being spent was viable. Alas, more died and the program failed. Oh, we had some elephants trained to pull logs, but, their main draw back was their size. They ate more money then they produced. Also, they were killers. We would constantly be searching for new mahouts to handle the beasts. Men were killed by normally placid animals for what seemed no reason at all. Also, that stretch of the river helped do us in. It was also a favorite sunning spot for the largest crocodiles I have ever seen in my life. Oh, just terrible animals. Finally one of our drivers brought back some cases of dynamite from the railroad men. When the villagers came to see what was making all the racket, they lept and danced in terrific gyrations. Using our small diesel tractor, we pulled some of the larger carcasses out and put them onto the tree refuse where the branchs were trimmed prior to stacking. The skins burst from the heat and huge sections of white flesh billowed out. A feast enough for the entire King’s compound and a smaller village across the river. It was about the best night I spent in all those years. Not long after this, our director died of a cobra bite. I was shipped to a Catholic school in Mozambique, then, spent the rest of my career walking from village to village, winning over the people that would listen to the Belgian propaganda. I would leave, but always went back. Now, here I am, the last one alive. Telling my tales and remembering my adventures!”
