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Hunting, wildlife & animal stories~Southern Africa~~~12564~12565~Hunting wildlife~
A Game Ranger Remembers - Bruce Bryden~This is a collection of stories about the life of a bushveld conservationist as it is lived at ground level by that elite band of men and women who guard the Kruger National Park - at the cost of much sweat and, not infrequently, quite a bit of blood. Bruce Bryden's tales of 30 years in the service of our most famous park make a gripping and entertaining read, abounding with encounters with elephant, lion, buffalo, leopard and rhino, whether darting for research, managing culling operations by helicopter or stalking on foot. In the best tradition of bushveld stories, there is a great deal of shooting, and a fair amount of running away; there are meetings with extraordinary characters among the rangers; memorable gatherings; hilarious mishaps and narrow escapes; and throughout, a great love and respect for both the wilderness and the creatures that inhabit it.
ISBN 1868422267. Dec 2005. Trade paperback. 408 pages, B/W photographs.~~A Game Ranger Remembers|ISBN 1868422267|~12564~12579~~
Don't Run, Whatever You Do: My Adventures as a Safari Guide - Peter Allison~In the tradition of Bill Bryson, a new writer brings us the lively adventures and biting wit of an African safari guide. Peter Allison works as a top safari guide in the Okavango Delta, an oasis of wetland in the middle of the Kalahari desert, rich with wildlife. As he caters to the whims of his wealthy clients, he often has to overcome the impulse to run as far away from them as he can, as these tourists are sometimes more dangerous than a pride of lions! Full of outrageous-but-true tales of the people and animals he has encountered - the young woman who rejected the recommended safari-friendly khaki to wear a more fashionable hot pink ensemble; the drunk, half-naked missing tourist who happened to be a member of the British royal family; the squirrel that overdosed on malaria pills; the monkeys with an underwear fetish; and last, but by no means least, Spielberg the Japanese tourist who wanted a repeat performance of Allison s narrow escape from a pair of charging lionesses so he could videotape it - these hilarious stories reveal Allison s good-natured scorn for himself, as well as others. Allison s humour is exceeded only by his love and respect for the animals, and his goal is to limit any negative exposure to humans by planning trips that are minimally invasive - unfortunately it doesn t always work out that way, as he and his clients discover to their cost when they find themselves up to their necks in a hippo-infested watering hole! Full of essential wisdom like 'Don't run,whatever you do' , and 'Never stand behind a frightened zebra' (they are prone to explosive flatulence when scared!), this is a wonderful and vivid portrait of what the life of a safari guide is really like.
ISBN-13: 978-1857885019. Oct 2007. Paperback 21.4 x 13.4 x 2.2 cm. 272 pages.~~Don%27t Run, Whatever You Do|ISBN-13 9781857885019|~12564~12569~~
Eden Exiles: One Soldier's Fight for Paradise - Jan Breytenbach~First published in 1997, this very hard-to-find book is being now re-printed with some revisions. Author Jan Breytenbach, a legend in the former SADF, describes how he discovered that Military Intelligence were involved in illegal wildlife trade with Jonas Savimbi and senior officers were also using the MI created ivory-smuggling routes for their own corrupt ends.
Approx 260 pages.
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EEOSF~From Mail & Guardian Online 21 Dec 1997
An extract from the original book.
Jan Breytenbach, a legend in the former SADF, describes how he discovered that senior officers were using ivory-smuggling routes for their own corrupt ends.Jonas Savimbi's headquarters was at a place called Jamba, a sort of squatter camp 10km south of the Biongue omuramba (flood plain) and about 15km south of the Luiana River.When journalists went to visit Savimbi they were always shown elephant, zebra, giraffe and other species dotting the Biongue omuramba and the adjacent bush. Another pocket of game was to be found around the old Portuguese military post at Luiana. Down the Quando River as far as the cutline with Namibia one could, with luck, come across pockets of elephants and, of course, the big herd of buffalo that straddled the Angola/Namibia cutline.Savimbi used these pockets of game as proof that he had a strong and working conservation policy. He also used these areas as a private hunting ground for himself and his friends, especially foreign politicians, generals and economists who could assist him in his war against the MPLA.
The fact that his troops had denuded at least 90% of the vast Quando Cubango by indiscriminate and often planned slaughtering of all game species is therefore considered a myth, particularly by journalists sympathetic to his cause.I don't want to discuss the merits of Unita's war against the MPLA or even their efficiency as guerrilla fighters. I have seen far too much of their performance on the ground to get excited about their soldier-like qualities. What I do object to, and want to discuss, are the moral issues involved when wild animals are slaughtered to support a war effort.Bear in mind that apart from vast numbers and a tremendous variety of African savannah game species, the Quando Cubango had nothing else to offer. There were no mines, industries, cities, energy sources or agricultural potential that could be tapped to support Savimbi's long, drawn-out war. The only resource available was the game, particularly the vast herds of elephant and a considerable number of rhinos.
Savimbi considered his fight for his version of democracy to be of greater importance than the continued existence of elephant herds and black rhinos belonging to the scarce Chobiense sub-species.He started to shoot these two species on an organised basis. The tusks and rhino horn were stockpiled at Jamba, while a means was sought to export the loot to the Far East, particularly Hong Kong.Savimbi claimed that he had to pay South Africa for its assistance with ivory and diamonds, according to Fred Bridgeland in his book Jonas Savimbi: The Key to Africa. However, this is a misrepresentation by Savimbi. I know that the support budgeted by Military Intelligence in 1986/87 amounted to R400-million. I also know that with that money the South Africans bought virtually all Savimbi's military hardware fuel and clothing. The money for supporting Unita came out of the South African taxpayer's pocket.I am all for a just war, but I have great difficulty in reconciling the justness of war against the wholesale rape of the African savannah's last outpost.Savimbi might have been a better ruler for Angola than (Eduardo) dos Santos, but then again, he might not. From what I have seen of Africa and experienced at first hand through a whole string of wars in at least six different African countries, an improvement in government does not automatically follow change, which in any event is usually achieved by violent means. More often than not, a change in government ushers in deterioration. Sometimes the new broom will sweep clean for a while, only to lapse into mediocrity on a par with most other governments in Africa.To sacrifice the last stronghold of the African savannah for the precarious freedoms promised by Savimbi, which would go unnoticed by at least 80% of the Angolan population anyway is, to my way of thinking, utterly despicable and an offence against God's creation.Then there was the inherent deviousness that formed an integral part of the whole process of getting the ivory to the Hong Kong markets that tended to corrupt those running the operation. In this particular case, the operation resulted in former well-respected officers in the defence force becoming tainted with the rotten smell that permeates the process of smuggling game products.What really rankled was the calculating way in which those beautiful animals were appraised by the scheming eyes of South African Military Intelligence officers. To them, an elephant was a huge piece of worthless, mobile meat, carrying towards its front end valuable tusks under its ludicrous, hosepipe nose. These were the same men who thought I had a screw loose because I befriended the big cats. Waxing lyrical about a herd of buffalo or sable was considered tantamount to knocking at the door of a lunatic asylum. To show emotion over the unnecessary death of a kudu, run down by a speeding truck at night, served only to confirm one's madness.
These were people whose idea of getting close to nature was to have a braai, somewhere in a wild spot along the Quando, with plenty of booze to accompany the feast. If one could do that every night for a week or so, with a spot of hunting thrown in, preferably from the back of a Land Cruiser, one was really communing with nature.
Someone who strolled through the bush, unarmed, following elephant footpaths and spending hours observing the antics of the various animals while coping patiently with tsetses and the pesky little mopane flies, was not considered a red-blooded South African whose roots were embedded in African soil. He was placed on a par with the fanatical Green Peacers from Europe and treated with the same derision.I got my first inkling of what was going on when Manie Grobler cornered me one day and asked if I had any knowledge of several million rands worth of ivory waiting to be picked up from an airstrip in the Caprivi.I had no knowledge of such a huge cache. Evidently Manie had been approached by a private pilot, who informed him that he was on his way to the Caprivi to pick up ivory for Military Intelligence.There are three airstrips in the Caprivi. One is an all-weather tarred runway at Omega, capable of taking virtually any plane. A shortish dirt strip, known as Immelman, served Fort St Michl and Fort Doppies. A third dirt strip served the Military Intelligence installations in the vicinity of Bwabwata.I came to the conclusion that the ivory was to be flown out of Bwabwata and advised Manie to contact his counterpart in Rundu with a request that he approach a certain colonel who had regular contact with Savimbi. I was of the opinion that the ivory could be a Unita stockpile.A week or so later Manie, fuming with anger, informed me that he had received a message from this colonel, via an alcoholic middleman, to lay off inquiring about the ivory or else he would get "sorted out".Now Manie Grobler, although a biologist, is also a nature conservation officer and thus a law enforcement officer. Notwithstanding Manie's position, the army colonel clearly considered himself and the organisation for which he worked to be above the law.As a military man myself and one who was proud of my profession, I was disgusted that a senior officer should drag the name of the SADF through the mud by ignoring the laws of the country he was fighting for. But his action also set alarm bells ringing. Something was obviously not right.I began making inquiries and putting together the few facts I could glean. The picture that gradually began to emerge was an ugly one and, at first, I found it hard to believe. Not in my worst nightmare could I have imagined that officers in the SADF would get involved in something that would be worthy of the Mafia.The eccentric editor of a well-known Windhoek newspaper printed several incredible reports about a Portuguese crime boss, based in Rundu, who ran a smuggling ring operating between southern Angola and South Africa. Week after week, more startling disclosures were made.The editor himself went to Rundu to investigate persistent rumours about the smuggling ring and ended up in a potentially dangerous confrontation.The Portuguese had erected a high and sturdy security fence around his property, but somehow, the intrepid journalist managed to get inside. Subsequently, photographs were splashed all over the front page of his newspaper showing a mean- looking Portuguese in a cowboy hat, threatening the editor with a rifle.All this made good copy, as the newsmen say, but none of it was taken seriously. I laughed with the best of them over the editor's fertile imagination.But when Manie Grobler told me about the ivory hoard, I began to have second thoughts, especially when a series of unexplained events came to my attention.There were the accidental deaths of a policeman and a Rundu nature conservator, the only two "outsiders" who knew about the ivory racket at that time. The death of the conservator coincided with the mysterious disappearance of incriminating tapes from his briefcase before nature conservation officials from Grootfontein could retrieve them from the car wreck. Unfortunately, those were the only copies of the tapes in existence.
Then there was a cache of 70 tusks dug up in the kitchen of a Portuguese employee of the Rundu "godfather". He was working on a road being constructed by his boss between Kongola and Lianshulu when he was arrested and his employer lost no time in getting to the court-house to pay the paltry R50 fine that was imposed, then promptly packed the fellow off to Swaziland, where he probably became engaged in opening up the Moambique arm of the ivory smuggling racket.Another load of ivory, comprising 270 tusks, was intercepted in Namibia and the two smugglers, both Angolans, were given another ludicrously small fine which was promptly paid. They worked for the same Portuguese man from Rundu.In all these cases, the accused simply pleaded guilty, thus avoiding having to give evidence and run the risk of cross- examination by the prosecution.The Portuguese businessman then expanded his enterprises, placing one of his countrymen in charge of a shop he had bought in Katima. Soon the ivory flood to the south increased.A Portuguese greengrocer would travel from the Republic every week in a pantechnicon crammed with fresh produce, making the return trip with an empty vehicle - or so we thought. Following a tip-off, he was searched at the Ngoma customs post on his way out and 80 tusks were found in false compartments. He was also given a ludicrous fine, something like R1 000, which he paid out of his small change.Thanks to the help of other conservators, reliable information from a policeman friend, stationed in Rundu, and the Windhoek editor's reports, which cut close to the bone, a grim picture materialised.South African Military Intelligence had set up an organisation to ferry equipment into southern Angola for Unita and transport wood back to the Republic, with the idea of making money for Savimbi. This organisation, known as Inter Frama, was under the control of two Portuguese, one in Rundu named Lopez, or Lops, and one in Johannesburg, named Maya. I knew Lopez well and I had met Maya.I heard about Inter Frama from colleagues who, like me, worked for Military Intelligence. It was supposed to be a "secret" organisation, but in due course, Inter Frama became an open secret, known throughout Namibia.The organisation's trucks pounded the roads between Angola and Pretoria, attracting the attention of our editor friend. The drivers all had passes exempting them and their vehicles from searches at police or army roadblocks on the grounds of security.The trees were felled in Angola and sawn into planks or railway sleepers at a sawmill belonging to Inter Frama at Bwabwata in the western Caprivi. I must confess that without the slightest pangs of conscience, I pinched some of the sleepers for use in our house at Buffalo Lodge.Savimbi had pushed for his stockpile of ivory to be exported via South Africa to the Far East and Military Intelligence had agreed, roping in a certain Chinese to take care of the disposal and export of the ivory once it reached Pretoria.This Chinese, originally from Hong Kong, had previously been used extensively in sanctions-busting operations and was connected via family ties to Hong Kong ivory dealers.The pipeline was in position and the illegal ivory began to flow down it in a constant stream.The Official Secrets Act gave more than adequate protection for the covert operation but greed is a strange thing. Like cancer, it begins to feed on what is healthy, firm tissue, and turn it, in time, into a rotten, smelly mess.This is precisely what happened. This extremely effective and secret pipeline was operating under the protection of the Official Secrets Act for the illegal export of ivory and rhino horn, so why could it not be used to serve individual greed?Soon, ivory and rhino horn started to come in via a collection point in Katima from Zambia, Zimbabwe and points further north.The collector was a Portuguese shopkeeper in Katima, running the business for his boss, Mr Lopez. In addition to the ivory, they also channelled mandrax that originated in Lusaka through the store.I had already accepted the post of park warden for the western Caprivi, but I was still serving in the army, and therefore felt that my first loyalty was to the SADF. I had an impression at the time that the pipeline established by Military Intelligence had unavoidably been corrupted and that the officers in control did not really know what was going on.So when I was visited by one of the senior intelligence officers in control of support to Unita, I decided to inform him about my suspicions and misgivings, including the mandrax that was being transported along the pipeline from Lusaka to Johannesburg.I cornered this guy one night on his own, in our boma beside the glowing coals of a warm fire. I gave him all the details and asked him to close the pipeline, to disband the whole operation, to get rid of the Portuguese Mafia and take urgent steps, since the elephant herds and few remaining rhinos were being slaughtered.He regarded me in stony silence, but a few weeks later, I received a message, via Alistair Macdonald, that my appointment as park warden had been withdrawn at the insistence of the SADF.I had already indicated that I would retire from the army at the end of 1987 and my immediate reaction was to write a personal letter to the Chief of the SADF, asking on what grounds they had objected to my appointment as warden of the Caprivi game park. This letter was only answered after I had left the army, at which time the Chief of the SADF informed me that he had the matter investigated and found that there were no reasons why I should not stay on in the Caprivi as a park warden. He had informed the nature conservation authorities accordingly.
But Military Intelligence, who seemed to be behind the whole affair, refused to let matters rest. They flew a brigadier to Windhoek to have a personal interview with the senior official who had offered me the job in the first place.Meanwhile, I had been reinstated, and was looking forward to being able to develop the park in accordance with my blueprint.So it came as a double blow when Alistair once again turned up at Buffalo Lodge to inform me that the offer had been withdrawn for the second time.A brigadier in Military Intelligence had succeeded in overturning a decision made by the chief of the defence force himself.Of course, this unusual interference raised not only my hackles, but my suspicions regarding the involvement of some very senior officers in the smuggling racket. It seemed to me that far from losing control of their own corrupt creation, as I had thought, they had actually decided to enrich themselves along the way.A certain officer who worked for Military Intelligence informed me that on returning from an operation deep inside Angola one day with his ammunition depleted, he had gone to a store in Rundu to restock. He opened a large box he thought contained ammunition and, to his surprise, found that it was filled with tusks. He then went to another box and found that one also filled with tusks. A third box revealed the same contents, as did one box after another.
The tusks were stored in an official SADF equipment store under control of Military Intelligence. Like a good soldier, the young officer decided to report the matter to his senior commander. This officer listened with some irritation, closed the door to prevent intrusion, and proceeded to lay into the young man in a rather menacing manner, promising all sorts of repercussions, including physical harm, if he should disclose his discovery.Shortly afterwards, the young officer was posted back to South Africa suffering from "battle fatigue".
Jan Breytenbach was founder and commander of the infamous 32 Battalion, which fought alongside Savimbi's Unita forces. He retired as a colonel seconded to Military Intelligence in 1988, the most decorated soldier of the SADF.
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Jock of the Bushveld - Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Centenary Edition)~This is the Centenary Edition of a classic book loved by young and old alike. Jock's owner was a young transport rider in the rugged and colourful days of the Transvaal Gold Rush in South Africa (then the Republic of South Africa). This is the story of the bull terrier who shared his master's life on the veld during a time when big game roamed the land and each sunrise brought a new hunting adventure. First published 1989, this edition 2007.
ISBN 0868522376. 2007. Paperback, Black & White sketches, 280 pages~~Jock of the Bushveld (Centenary)|ISBN 0868522376|~12564~12580~~
The Elephant Whisperer: Learning About Life, Loyalty and Freedom From a Remarkable Herd of Elephants - Lawrence Anthony~When South African conservationist Lawrence Anthony was asked to accept a herd of 'rogue' elephants on his reserve at Thula Thula, KwaZulu Natal, his commonsense told him to refuse. But he was the herd's last chance of survival - notorious escape artists, they would all be killed if Lawrence wouldn't take them. He agreed, but before arrangements for the move could be completed the animals broke out again and the matriarch and her baby were shot. The remaining elephants were traumatised and very angry. As soon as they arrived at Thula Thula they started planning their escape...As Lawrence battled to create a bond with the elephants and save them from execution, he came to realise that they had a lot to teach him about love, loyalty and freedom. Set against the background of life on the reserve, with unforgettable characters and exotic wildlife, this is a delightful book that will appeal to animal lovers everywhere.
ISBN-13 978-0283070877. June 2009. Hardcover, 22 x 13.8 x 3.8 cm. 288 pages.~
Review - Guardian Newspapers Limited, 2009
Lawrence Anthony's eyes mist over as he remembers the moment he met his ready-made family for the first time. "They were a difficult bunch, no question about it," he says. "Delinquents every one. But I could see a lot of good in them too. They'd had a tough time and were all scared and yet they were looking after one another, trying to protect one another."
From the way he talks, you might guess that he was talking about disadvantaged children; in fact, it's a herd of elephants. And not just any herd of elephants either, but a notorious, wild herd that had wreaked havoc across swathes of KwaZulu-Natal in South Africa, and were now threatened with being shot. "I was their only hope," says Anthony, 59. "There were seven of them in all, including babies and a teenage son. But the previous owner had had it up to here with them - they'd smashed their way through every fence they'd ever come up against."
Anthony knew his plan was risky - "angry elephants are very dangerous animals if they don't like you. You can be hamburger meat in seconds" - but his children had grown up and left home and he and his French wife, Francoise, had space on their game reserve, Thula Thula. When they were approached by an elephant-welfare organisation, Anthony, a respected conservationist who made world headlines in 2003 when he flew into Baghdad to rescue the animals from Saddam Hussein's zoo (an episode of the South African-born environmentalist's life that is being made into a Hollywood movie), knew he couldn't refuse.
Beyond wildest imagination
Today, 10 years on from the moment the herd arrived, he says - in another echo of many adoptive parents - that the difficulties of the job were beyond his wildest imagination.
"It's been a hundred times harder than I'd thought," he says. But he could not have foreseen how much a bunch of troublesome tuskers would teach him about family love and loyalty. "The care these elephants shower on one another is astounding," he says.
From the start, Anthony - tall, bearded, tanned and clad in khaki - considered the elephants part of his family. "We called the matriarch Nana, because that's what all the children in the Anthony family call my mum," he says. "The second in command, another feisty mother, we called Frankie after Francoise."
As with human adoptions, the early days were especially tough. Nana and her troupe weren't called the most troublesome elephants in Africa for nothing: every morning they would try to break out of the compound where they were living. Every day, Anthony, in a gesture that many parents who have had to deal with difficult kids will recognise, would do his best to persuade them that they shouldn't behave badly, but that whatever they did he loved them anyway, and that they could trust him. "I'd go down to the fence and I'd plead with Nana not to break it down," he says. "I knew she didn't understand English, but I hoped she'd understand by the tone of my voice and my body language what I was saying. And one morning, instead of trying to break the fence down, she just stood there. Then she put her trunk through the fence towards me. I knew she wanted to touch me - elephants are tremendously tactile, they use touch all the time to show concern and love. That was a turning point."
Elephants are matriarchal. Anthony's herd consisted of a group of mothers and their pre-adolescent young. Within the group, the matriarch has absolute authority.
"Whatever she says goes. If she wants to turn left, they turn left. If she wants to walk for 100 km, they walk for 100 km. Watching her made me understand what family means - her behaviour taught me that wise leadership, selfless discipline and tough unconditional love is the core of the family unit. I learned how important one's own flesh and blood actually is when the dice are loaded against you. Nana would do anything for the family she led: she expected to be obeyed, and she was, but she was very, very careful about where she led those she was responsible for."
Her acceptance of Anthony meant that the other elephants followed suit, which was life-saving for both him and Francoise a few days later when they unwittingly came between Frankie and her babies. She charged - "and let me tell you, an elephant charge is the most magnificent, and also the most terrifying, experience life holds" - and only broke off when she was seconds from obliterating them. "If Nana hadn't shown Frankie she could trust me and shouldn't hurt me, we'd certainly have been crushed to death."
Frankie's defence of her young was typical: an elephant mother's devotion to her children is, Anthony believes, unparalleled in the animal kingdom. He tells a heartbreaking story about how another of the herd, Nandi, gave birth to a daughter whose legs were deformed. Despite the danger of lions, and the heat, Nandi remained with her for two days, supported by Nana and Frankie, all three taking turns to shield the baby from the sun. Time after time, they tried to lift her with their trunks so she could stand. "Watching Nandi made me realise how much a real mother cares. She was prepared to stand over her deformed baby for days without food or water, trying right until the end to save her, refusing to surrender until the last breath had been gasped."
There were many other lessons in family behaviour, too. Frankie, the feisty aunt, showed time and again what loyalty meant. "She'd have laid down her life for them in a blink, no question, and in return, the others gave her their absolute love and respect. And the way Frankie raised her young, Marula and Mabula, showed me first-hand what good parenting can achieve despite adverse circumstances. These beautiful, well-behaved children are what we in human terms would call "good citizens". They saw how their mother and aunt treated me, and in return accorded me the respect one would give to a distinguished relative."
Today, the Anthonys are so close to their elephants that on occasion they have almost had to chase them out of the sitting room. Anthony's guiding principle has always been that if he respected them, they would respect him. Exchanges between him and the elephants have often been reciprocal, most movingly when Nana's son Mvula was born, and she ambled forward out of the bush, days after the birth, to show him off to the man she now regarded as a close kinsman. A few years later, after Anthony's first grandchild, Ethan, was born, he repaid the gesture. "Mind you," he says with a laugh, "my daughter-in-law didn't talk to me for a long time afterwards. There I was, holding her tiny, days-old baby, walking towards a herd of wild elephants. She didn't imagine I'd go so close - but I knew we were safe. The elephants were so excited - their trunks went straight up and they all edged closer, intensely focused on the little bundle in my arms, smelling the air to get the scent. I was trusting them with my baby, just as they had trusted me with theirs."
Respect for the elderly
The elephants' respect for the elderly herd members is something else human beings could learn from, says Anthony. "Old elephants tend to get dementia and are very slow. But the young treat them with the utmost respect and devotion - when an elderly relative can't scrape the bark off branches to eat any more, his sons and nephews lead him to marshes or swamps where the leaves are softer. When he's too weak to stand, they guard him to protect him from lions or hyenas."
This week, Anthony flies home from London, where he has been promoting his new book, to South Africa and Thula Thula. He knows that Nana, Frankie, Nandi and the rest of the gang will be waiting for him at the gate - they always seem to sense when he'll be back. These days, they are as much there for him as he is for them. Adopting a herd of wild elephants might have been the biggest risk he ever took in his life but, against the odds, it has paid off. The conservationist who welcomed a herd of badly behaved elephants into the heart of his family has had his brave and bold gesture returned in a way he couldn't have dreamed of: these days, he is as much a part of their family as they are of his.
- © Guardian Newspapers Limited, 2009~The Elephant Whisperer|ISBN-13 9780283070877|~12564~12566~~
Where to Dive: In Southern Africa and off the Islands - AJ Venter~Beautifully illustrated throughout with hundreds of photographs in colour and black & white. A comprehensive and extensive look at sport diving in South Africa and in the wider continent. Includes: Wrecks, False Bay, Natal Coast, Eastern Cape, Madagascar, West Coast, Zimbabwe, Seychelles, Mocambique Islands, Red Sea, The Comores, Maldives, Mauritius, Bibliography, Index, Index of Marine Life.
Ashanti Publishing, 1991. Hardcover.632 pages
These are Autographed copies~~Where to Dive|ISBN 1874800170|~12564~13186~~
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