All language subtitles for Adventure-Zambezi-E01-Lord.of.the.Land

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If Africa has a heart, this must be very close to it,

for within a few miles of one another, there rise here

two of its main arteries.

A few miles north lies the source of the Congo River,

which flows west down to the Atlantic Ocean.

And this tiny brook at my feet is the infant Zambezi River.

We're planning to follow it along its entire course,

sometimes on foot, sometimes in boats, sometimes by car.

It's a journey of 2,200 miles.

SHRIEKING

CHIRRUPING

SHRIEKING

CROAKING

Baboons. The ruffians, the bandits of the African bush.

SHRIEKING

Noisy, quarrelsome, mischievous,

frightened of nothing, except perhaps a lion.

They roister through the forest around the source of the Zambezi,

as they do across most of Africa below the Sahara.

They will eat anything -

birds' eggs, fruit, insects, carrion.

Sometimes they will even catch and kill a young antelope.

They wander in bands up to 100-strong,

ruled despotically by one big, powerful male.

When he goes down to drink at the river,

everyone else clears out of the way.

Within a few miles of its beginning,

the young Zambezi swells from a trickling stream

into a sizeable river,

and already it is a focus of animal life.

A white-fronted bee-eater,

iridescent green with a brilliant gash of scarlet across its throat.

The dry season is ending,

and the bee-eaters are beginning to prospect for nests.

A few of their burrows in the riverbank

have survived from last season, and every evening the birds congregate

to survey the available accommodation.

They seem positively to enjoy the business of burrowing,

and if there's not a vacant hole

and they aren't yet sufficiently enthusiastic

to begin a completely new one,

then they can still luxuriate in a similar thrill

by wriggling in the soft, warm sand.

SQUEAKY CHIRRUPING

But there is still great competition to occupy any available burrow,

and since at this stage no-one has yet established complete ownership,

everyone tries to barge his way into a hole,

even if there are three or four others already inside.

At this early stage in its career,

the Zambezi is largely ignored by roads.

Only occasionally does a track endeavour to cross the river,

and then - only too often - by the most rickety of bridges.

We followed the river as it wound its way westwards,

through Zambia towards the Portuguese territory of Angola.

CHANTING

Beneath these blankets lie six young girls.

SINGING

At their head sits an old woman, supervising the ritual,

and by her side, the sacred muudi bush, which has a milky sap

and symbolises womanhood,

for the children beneath the blankets have reached a crisis in their lives.

They are about to leave childhood and emerge into the adult world.

SOLO VOICES SING OTHERS RESPOND IN CHORUS

None must move a muscle as they lie, half-suffocated,

beneath the blankets under a savage sun,

while their elders dance around them.

SINGING CONTINUES

This dance is only the beginning of a long period of initiation,

during which the girls will be hidden from the public gaze.

Throughout this time, they live in a small shelter

on the outskirts of the village,

visited only by the old women

who instruct them in the skills and duties of adult life.

One of the girls is now due to be ceremonially reborn as a woman,

and this is also the prelude to her marriage.

Behind a screen outside the village,

the women prepare her for her wedding.

They treat her almost like a doll,

as they dress her hair in the fashion approved by custom.

CHATTERING

They wash her body and anoint it with oil and red ochre.

This is her wedding day, an occasion for her to wear all her finest,

her most dazzling possessions.

A muslin petticoat from the nearest village store.

A circlet of beads with a little charm hanging over the brow.

And the most precious and highly esteemed of all,

the badge of true sophistication -

a pair of plastic sunglasses.

The child is about to become a woman.

At the same time, in the centre of the village,

her bridegroom to be, unattended, is also washing himself,

behind a flimsy screen that is no more than a symbol of privacy.

DISTANT SINGING

The women prepare a final meal for the bride,

of glutinous cassava puddings and chicken boiled with peppers.

WOMEN CHATTERING

The first mouthful of chicken she may chew and swallow.

But the second must be offered to the spirits of the unborn children

of her marriage, and so she will spit it out ceremonially

towards the east, where the sun rises.

The third must be sent westward, to propitiate the ancestors,

whose spirits departed at death into the sunset.

Even now, she may not be seen by any man.

And she comes in to the village hidden beneath a sheet

and escorted by the women.

DRUMMING

Beneath the sheet, to keep her company, is an even younger girl,

her bridesmaid.

CHANTING

THEY CHANT

WOMEN ULULATE

THEY CHEER AND SING

The moment of rebirth has come.

Her father with an axe, her mother with a hoe to symbolise

the work that will now be hers, reveal her to the world.

The young bride sits dazed and bewildered.

She is a woman and a wife. She is 12.

And the wedding guests put gifts of money into the bowl beside her.

After the river has swung down south through Angola,

it emerges once more into Zambia.

And here it has to force its way across the Chavuma rapids.

And below the rapids, we crossed it.

OK, we go. Right? We go.

MEN CHATTER

THEY CHANT AND SING

The Zambezi here is nearly a quarter of a mile wide.

Livingstone, the first European to explore most of its course,

had hoped that the Zambezi would prove to be a highway

for commerce and civilisation leading right to the centre of the continent.

Even today, optimistic people are still hatching plans to use

the river in this way.

But its long passive stretches

are interrupted by a series of falls and rapids

which no boat can negotiate.

And Chavuma is the first.

MEN CONTINUE TO CHANT AND SING

The Zambezi is now 250 miles old.

Leaving Angola behind, it glides on southwards through Zambia

towards the wide, flat flood plains of Barotseland.

CRANES SQUAWK

Crowned cranes choose the lonelier stretches of the Barotse Plain

for their dancing grounds.

As one arrives, it issues a formal invitation to dance by bobbing

its head, an invitation that isn't always accepted.

All the crane family seems to be obsessed by a passion for dancing,

but none of them more so than the crowned crane.

And when a bobbing invitation IS accepted, then the ecstasy begins.

Sometimes a dancer gets so excited that it will pick up a feather

or a piece of straw and jubilantly toss it into the air.

But dancing in this fashion does have its hazards,

particularly if there's a strong wind

to catch your broad wings and blow you over.

Every morning throughout the year,

the flocks of cranes gather to indulge in their dance.

They bounce and they flap for an hour or more.

And then, as the day wears on, the passion dies.

Their minds turn to more mundane affairs and they begin to feed,

their golden coronets glinting in the relentless, scorching sun.

The fires that, at the end of the dry season, blaze on the plains

can lick through the parched tinder-dry grass

with frightening speed.

And if there's a strong wind behind them,

they surge forward as fast as a man can run.

Lizards and snakes scuttle away ahead of the flames.

Insects and small birds take to flight

and are swept into the sky by the gigantic updraught.

And so, ahead of the advancing line of fire, falcons, hawks

and harriers sweep through the smoke waiting to pounce on the refugees.

Although the larger animals can easily escape the flames

by cantering gently ahead of them,

the fire advances on such a wide frontier

that it drives increasingly large herds of game before it.

For days, the zebra will move in advance of the blaze

until the fire reaches a stream or a stretch of sand

or the wind drops.

Then the flames die, leaving behind them a blackened, smoking land.

Here and there among the stubble, lie a few corpses of creatures

that were scorched or asphyxiated to death.

And gathering the corpses come the carrion feeders -

the adjutant storks.

The Barotse Plain is the home of the Lozi people

who build their villages on small mounds dotted over the land.

They build neatly each house with a courtyard,

fenced by a tall wall of reeds.

HUM OF BACKGROUND CHATTER

COCK CROWS

Many of the villages have their own blacksmiths.

And though they now use fencing wire,

oil drums and discarded pieces of European machinery

as a source of their iron, they still work the metal by traditional methods

and in a forge powered by goatskin bellows and charcoal,

the smiths turn out the axes and spears without which

any Lozi man would feel almost naked.

An ivory carver works near the smith,

for this indeed is no ordinary village.

This is Lealui, the capital of Barotseland.

And this man is a member of the entourage of the Litunga -

the paramount chief.

Everything he makes belongs to the Litunga.

Some objects will be part of the Royal regalia

that may be owned by none but the Litunga himself.

And most important of them, the fly whisks -

ivory handled and tufted with hair from an eland's tail.

The Litunga is a demigod.

He is so sacred that he must live in seclusion, shut away in his palace

behind a series of tall reed fences each tied with special bindings

and topped with wooden spikes that are the prerogative of royalty.

DRUMS PLAY

The musicians who regularly play in the outer courtyard of the palace

are also the king's personal servants.

On the eve of important ceremonials, their xylophones and drums

echo across the village for days on end.

Few people are privileged enough to be allowed to pass through

the outer courtyard and enter the inner enclosure.

Here, in a shrine, are kept the trophies of the Royal hunts.

The backbones and the tails of elephants slaughtered by the Litunga

and the Royal hunters in times gone by,

together with the Royal hunting spears.

Elephants in Barotseland, like sturgeon in Britain, are Royal game

and none may kill an elephant without the Litunga's permission.

Only the privileged may seek an audience with the Litunga.

And when a visitor arrives, he must make obeisance in the inner courtyard

to show his respect for the god king.

Visitors arriving in the capital

from outlying parts of the Barotse kingdom

give an even more elaborate Royal salute as they approach the palace.

THEY CHANT

The Litunga is about to make one of his rare visits

to the village beyond his palace walls.

CLAPPING

He is on his way to open the courts which rule the land,

and like the Queen's opening of Parliament in Westminster,

it's an occasion of much ceremonial.

The Litunga's grandfather, Lewanika I,

signed treaties with the government of Queen Victoria

and the Litunga himself has many times left his kingdom

and come to Britain to discuss the affairs of his country.

And so Western formal dress has now become part of the formalities

of this ancient African ritual.

XYLOPHONES PLAY AND DRUMS BEAT

As the Litunga leaves the precincts of the palace,

and emerges into the village, his people welcome him.

CHEERING

The paramount chief, the people believe, is descended from God.

His full title - Mbumu wa Litunga - means literally "Lord of the Land".

It is he who is the custodian of the Earth's fertility

and in paying homage to him, the Lozi people are paying respect

to the land that provides them with their food and their livelihood.

WOMEN ULULATE

WOMEN ULULATE, DRUMS PLAY

None of the business of dispensing justice or debating decisions,

which is the function of the Kuta, the Barotse court,

will be carried out today.

The Litunga will inaugurate the session, blessing it by his presence

and will listen to music played by the Royal musicians.

The Barotse kingdom includes three main tribes,

and so the Litunga must hear music that belongs to each of them.

So acknowledging symbolically

the union of the three people in one nation.

And while he listens, his senior ministers confer with him.

XYLOPHONE-LIKE MUSIC PLAYS

THEY CONFER IN LOZI

After the Litunga has left,

the day-to-day business of the courts may begin.

Here, Lozi men will come and present their grievances

and their troubles to a court of elders

who, in the past, were chiefs

and held their positions by virtue of their ancestry,

but who today are elected by tribal vote.

THEY SPEAK IN LOZI

Many of the disputes to be settled

will concern the Lozi's main source of wealth - cattle.

Handsome, long-horned beasts that during the dry season

graze over the wide Barotse plains.

MOOING

Every evening they are tethered to stakes in one particular place

so that their droppings will be concentrated on one patch

which later will be used for a fertile garden.

The Zambezi, which flows down the centre of the kingdom of Barotseland,

also gives much of its wealth to the people on its banks,

for it is rich in fish.

And along the river's length stand small encampments

where fishermen smoke their catch

before trading it right through the kingdom.

In the far south of the Barotse Plain,

the Zambezi has to cross the rocky barrier of the Sioma Falls.

When the rainy season comes, the Zambezi swells and is so impeded

by these falls that it dams up behind them and spills over its banks

so that the huge plain becomes one vast, shallow lake and the lands

on which the cattle once grazed become the domain of water birds.

HIGH-PITCHED BIRD CALLS

These are skimmers - strange birds

which have a greatly elongated lower beak

which they dip into the water as they skim over the surface

in order to catch little fish and insects.

Elegant and beautiful in flight,

when they settle, their extraordinary bills give them a grotesque look.

PIPING BIRD CALLS

Cormorants arrive to guzzle on the fish

that now swarm in the shallow waters.

And above the lagoons hover the little pied kingfishers.

SPLASH

They hang in the air, their beaks poised like daggers

until they spot a silvery glint in the water that signals a meal.

Among the many birds assembling on the flooded plain

come flocks of openbill storks.

They get their name from the fact

that they can't fully close their beaks. There's a gap halfway down.

The delicacy which lures them here

are the snails which swarm in the reeds.

Some naturalists have suggested that the birds use the gap

in their bills as a sort of nutcracker when tackling a snail.

Now we had a chance of finding out if this was true.

It isn't.

The openbill does the trick working delicately with only

the tip of its beak - using it, in fact, not like a nutcracker

but more like a pair of forceps.

As the floods rise,

the people are compelled to move from their villages.

And with them, they must take their cattle.

CATTLE LOWING

The cattle are unwilling swimmers.

As long as the bank they've just left is near,

they will do their best to return to it

rather than head out into open water.

They circle and eddy until one of them assumes the duties of leader

and swims out boldly.

When at last that happens, most of the herd will follow.

MEN SHOUT

MEN SHOUT AND WHISTLE

But, even now, some of the stragglers try to swim back

and have to be headed off.

CATTLE LOWING

Soon, the waters are lapping around Lealui, the capital itself.

The people must move out to the hills on either side of the plain

and the departure of the Litunga for his wet season capital

is the occasion for the greatest festival in the whole of Barotseland.

On the morning of his departure,

the entire domestic possessions of the Royal Court

are brought down to the water's edge.

The Litunga will travel in the Royal barge, the Nalikwanda.

On board it goes the palace safe.

MAN SHOUTS IN LOZI

The noblemen, the Ndunas, who will paddle the barge

dress themselves with kilts of skins.

On their heads, they must wear pieces of a lion's mane.

The national drums must also be put aboard

for they will be played throughout the voyage.

MUSIC AND ULULATION

The Litunga is escorted to his barge by his advisers

and government officials.

ULULATION

CHEERING

ULULATION

ULULATION

And so, the entire fleet sets off.

DRUMMING

Behind the Nalikwanda come baggage barges,

and the personal barges belonging to the Queen,

and various important princes.

But none must get ahead of the Nalikwanda.

RHYTHMIC DRUMMING

SINGING

SINGING

In the evening, the fleet arrives at Limulunga,

the capital in the hills, and dry land.

ULULATION

The Litunga, the Lord of the Land,

having changed into his most resplendent uniform on the voyage,

leaves for his wet season palace

where he will remain until the waters fall.

ULULATION

DRUMMING AND SINGING

Now, squadrons of pelican circle the sky above the floods

and wheel down to fish in the lagoons.

WHOOPING BIRD CALLS

WHOOPING BIRD CALLS

BIRDSONG

The river has always dominated the life of the Lozi.

Every year, it brings down rich, fertile mud

from the hills around its source

and spreads it over the plain.

Every year, the people must take refuge for six months in the hills

while the Zambezi transforms their fields and pastures

into a lake 100 miles long and 20 miles wide.

Only when the river retreats between its banks

and the water empties from the plain,

can the Lozi return to their homes

and reclaim the land from the lily trotters and the cranes.

For, in truth, it is not the Litunga who is Lord of the Land,

but the Zambezi.