Behind the scenes of a fundraising expedition in southern Africa

It’s 7.45am, the June air is brisk, the sun has been rising steadily for an hour, and I’m gazing across the plains of Ngamo. I’m following British athlete and adventurer Jack Fleckney on a 20-day journey across Zimbabwe’s Hwange National Park, Zambia’s baobab-rich Chundu Island, and Botswana’s magnificent Okavango Delta. He’s on a multi-stage quest to raise £30,000 ($34,00 USD) to help fund conservation and education projects in each country—his challenge begins today with Kwanele Ncube and the wildlife protection unit, the Cobras.

Twenty-six-year-old Ncube has already completed a training circuit of press-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, and dips. He’s eight kilometers into a 30-kilometer run and, despite running in boots over sandy terrain, Ncube hasn’t even broken a sweat as his group slows for a quick break. His colleagues—five of whom he’s running alongside this morning—call him Poacher. “It’s a nickname,” Ncube says, his voice quiet. “I used to poach.” But Ncube wasn’t killing for trophies; he was poaching to feed his family. “I poached small animals for meat, like guinea fowl.”

Poaching for consumption is a reality of life in rural Zimbabwe. But Ncube has found a new way to access enough food for his family as a leader of the Cobras, a Community Wildlife Protection Unit and critical division of Imvelo’s Community Rhino Conservation Initiative. Cobras are recruited from surrounding villages and the selection process is rigorous. Physical fitness and discipline are non-negotiables—Cobras are trained to British Armed Forces standards by security manager Daniel Terblanche—but once they’re in, they have a stable income and educational opportunities.

Ncube admits that if he weren’t a Cobra, he’d probably still be poaching, selling fish, and panning for gold to make ends meet. “Becoming a Cobra has changed my life completely,” he says. “The life I was expecting to live was not this one.”

Ncube’s time with the Cobras has also changed his perspective on wildlife. Rhinoceros once roamed Hwange National Park in relative abundance until poaching—for horns, not survival—ravaged the population of both black and white rhinos. By the early 2000s, white rhino numbers dwindled from an already-modest 120 to… zero. With the recent translocation of Thuza and Kusasa, two white rhino bulls from Malilangwe Wildlife Reserve, 10 hours southeast, these animals are officially back in Hwange for the first time in nearly two decades. And the Cobras have been eager to use their training by providing round-the-clock protection.

“I’ve realized, just like us, animals need to live. The more species we conserve, the more chances guests will have to come see them,” Ncube tells me. “I think we’re going to benefit from the rhinos and we’re here to protect them. We’ll earn money and our lives will become easier.”

Raising money for the Cobras is the first phase of Challenge Africa. Fleckney will traverse Hwange by mountain bike, horseback, and on foot—beginning with this morning’s 30-kilometer run with Ncube and co. After crossing into Zambia, he’ll climb as many baobab trees as possible in 24 hours on Chundu Island, to raise funds for the Royal Chundu Foundation School. Finally, he’ll attempt to paddle 400 kilometers through the Okavango Delta, wild camping along the way while dodging hippo and crocodiles, to raise money for the Bush Ways Foundation’s Khwai Pre-School.

Fleckney is a former Royal Marine Commando. He’s no stranger to pushing his physical limits for charity; a few weeks earlier, he’d attempted a 24-hour rope-climbing challenge to help support families affected by Parkinson’s. While Fleckney doesn’t strike me as someone who does things for bravado, I’m compelled to ask why he’s chosen this fundraising path.

“Usually these crazy adventures are done for personal reasons—for the glory of it ,” Fleckney tells me, acknowledging the [strictly metaphorical] elephant in the room. “I went into charitable events because I wanted to make a difference in the future. I like the element of physical challenge, because, in my eyes, if we add physical hardship, it probably warrants more donations and support, and more people want to get involved.”

“Ask anyone from my village if they can see the difference with tourism and they’ll list the benefits until morning. We are where we are because of tourism and because of conservation.”

- Phethile Pete Ndlovu, Imvelo

I’ll admit to having initial concerns about the optics of a project like this. Even with the best of intentions—during a time when the travel industry is finally reflecting on what it means to support locals and travel responsibly—do we really need a Westerner stepping into an African spotlight? It’s something I was keen to understand as I followed Fleckney’s expedition.

Trailing the runners this morning, I’m sharing a safari vehicle with videographer Jack Weightman-Harton; professional guides Mike Scott and Bernard Sibanda of Khangela Safaris; Hannah Tranter, who oversees community and conservation projects in the area; and Phethile Pete Ndlovu, our charismatic guide and driver from Imvelo Safari Lodges.

It’s exhilarating to be with people so passionate about conservation and its nuances, each aware that for these efforts to flourish, humans and wildlife must find ways to live in harmony. And, as Ndlovu learned, tourism plays a key role in this symbiosis.

“When you work in this business, you fall in love with everything,” says Ndlovu when I ask him about his favorite part of the job. “The people, the wildlife, the tourism—we need all three. If we miss one, we don’t have balance. Ask anyone from my village if they can see the difference with tourism and they’ll list the benefits until morning. We are where we are because of tourism and because of conservation.”

Following a cross-border transfer during which Weightman-Harton and I enjoy wifi and refreshments while Fleckney cycles in the midday sun, we arrive at Zambian-owned and operated Royal Chundu lodge overlooking the Zambezi. For his baobab climbing challenge, Fleckney’s brought a kit that allows him to slingshot a rope over high branches and ratchet himself up—with no damage to the trees. Baobabs are impressively resilient, growing to massive sizes and living for thousands of years.

We’ll soon plant baobab seeds with the students of the Royal Chundu Foundation School, an early education facility that began as a resource for the employees and families at the lodge, but it quickly filled up with children from surrounding villages. The teachers are eager to expand, and accommodate more students than the 50 they’re at capacity with.

How much, I wonder, does it cost to organize something like Challenge Africa? I know Fleckney aims to raise £30,000 ($34,000) across the projects, but staying in places that can cost several hundred dollars or more per night is a curious juxtaposition.

“We have land outside our property. We were supposed to start building two classroom blocks, but the pandemic set us back,” says Aggie Maseko Banda, Royal Chundu’s lodge manager. “The dream is to empower everybody from these communities—we hope by the end of this year, we can dig the foundation to get started.”

After Fleckney scales a number of the island’s larger baobab trees, ascending several more than 30 times over a 24-hour period, we see the land where the Royal Chundu Foundation School is meant to take shape. There’s lots of space—more than enough for several classrooms, and the technology center Banda hopes can one day be a reality.

“In this area, not a lot of children are exposed to computers—some will finish high school without having any access to one,” she says. “We want to have a digital learning center where every community member can learn how to use a computer.”

I ask Fleckney why all three causes involve young people. Like Banda, he says he too is looking to the future; he’s not trying to change anything overnight. “Life’s all about opportunity,” Fleckney says. “We need more balance across the world, but what we can do is help create aspirational figures—positive change comes from people within a community who want to make a difference. I can’t be a driving force here.”

Now we’ve spent more time together, I feel I can push Fleckney a bit further—I want to know what he thinks about the colonial legacy of this region and the potential for accusations of white saviorism. The people we’ve met so far have been welcoming and eager to share their stories and culture—from where we’re sitting, it doesn’t feel like race or origin is a point of tension. But, as white Europeans, it’s not our place to make that declaration.

I can tell it’s hard for him to answer questions like this. “I’m just one person who wants to help another person,” says Fleckney, pausing to collect his thoughts. “It’s about awareness. If I want to build awareness in the UK of something happening here, I need to get out and meet the people to then share those stories. Colonialism took things away, but maybe this is a way to give back. All I can do is help where I can, and do the right thing for the right person at the right time.”

Fleckney adds that he comes from a working-class family, no generational wealth. “If you want to break it down, I’m driving a shite car, living in a tiny house, often struggling month-to-month to meet my financials,” he tells me.

For all the good intentions, I wonder how much it costs to organize something like Challenge Africa. Fleckney aimed to raise £30,000 ($34,000) across the projects, but staying in places costing several hundred dollars or more per night is a curious juxtaposition.

Rory Wood, positive impact coordinator at Journeysmiths, the organizing partner and bespoke tour operator with whom I’m traveling, confirmed that Challenge Africa cost £16,951 ($20,500 USD). Accommodation and guides were offered at a reduced rate, and sponsors covered £12,000 ($14,500 USD), leaving a total cost of £4,951 ($6,000 USD) for a 20-day expedition.

Wood was my introduction to Fleckney and Challenge Africa. Journeysmiths had approached Fleckney about joining an earlier fundraising effort, the one-week Zambezi Expedition, but Fleckney wanted to dig deeper. “In true Jack fashion, he wanted to do more,” says Wood, “so he suggested one of his fundraising challenges while he was there. That was the beginning of Challenge Africa.”

Did Fleckney need to run, cycle, and paddle hundreds of kilometers to connect with these communities? Maybe not. But did it lend an undeniable element of interest? Absolutely.

The concept took six months to plan, and Fleckney secured sponsorship from Craghoppers, Wilby Tree and The Roastery at Bella Barista, while Wood arranged guides and logistics. “We all have a responsibility to minimize our impact and do our best to make choices that will benefit communities, wildlife, and the environment,” says Wood. “We do that by collaborating with partners that share our values.”

Fleckney says that between his fundraising efforts, the gofundme page, and proceeds from a blend of coffee sold by one of the sponsors, about £8,000 ($9,100 USD) has been raised so far. He says it’s been extremely difficult to find corporate donors and sponsors, but he continues to raise funds. “No one’s interested because it’s not close to home for these corporations.” He compares it to another initiative he’s working on for a men’s mental health charity in the UK; he says corporate sponsors are “all over it.”

Fleckney leaves Royal Chundu on foot. The plan is he runs across the Zambia-Botswana border until Kasane Airport. I attempt to join part of the run. I make it one whole kilometer before tapping out; the sun is too much.

That afternoon, we fly to Maun, the jumping-off point for Botswana’s Okavango Delta, and spend the evening with Marc Germiquet of mobile safari specialist Bush Ways who will join us too—Germiquet and Fleckney will attempt to paddle 400 kilometers of the delta in a two-man kayak. Fleckney is undertaking this final stage—the most arduous and dangerous—for Khwai Pre-School, a Bush Ways Foundation project, also known as the Maria Ramsden Learning Center, which gives a headstart to children as young as two.

Open since 2019, such a facility is rare in rural areas like Khwai. “Parents are realizing how important basic education is,” says headteacher Phetso Mosaya. “Every week, we receive new registrations. We also hope to offer adult literacy classes.” Additional funding helps with increasing student numbers, and providing daily meals and snacks; an incentive for kids and a relief for parents. I’m reminded of my earlier conversation with Fleckney, when he remarked on the inequality of opportunities.

Our expedition begins from Drotsky’s Cabins, where we meet our boat driver, Mangi. He’s 60 years old and has lived on the delta his whole life. “My GPS is in here,” he says, pointing to his head. I’ve never experienced anything like the Okavango Delta. Largely undisturbed by humans, it’s unbelievably quiet on the papyrus-lined waterways and the birdwatching is incredible. We watch crocodiles slip into the water at the sound of our boat, we see lechwe (antelope) look on with curiosity, and we’re issued countless warning grunts from cute-but-territorial hippos—these creatures are everywhere.

Fleckney and Germiquet report discomfort in the kayak, a borrowed vessel with sub-optimal seating, but morale is high and the duo paddles over 200 kilometers in the first two days. The going gets tougher as the water becomes increasingly shallow, and after six nights, 340 kilometers and one adrenaline-pumping incidence of a hippo ramming our boat, there’s little choice but for Germiquet to make a satellite call and request mountain bikes to finish the challenge. For those of us in the support boat, a 20-minute ride back to Maun via helicopter is even more of a treat than the shower I’ve been looking forward to for a week.

As I travel home, I think about how I’ll report on Challenge Africa. As a journalist, I know I’m meant to share facts and context. As a reader, I know how easy it is to interpret things in different ways. There’s no perfect answer to the question of who can or should help others—nor is there a clear definition of what it actually means to offer help. How do we discern the genuine from the glory-seeking?

Did Fleckney need to run, cycle, and paddle hundreds of kilometers to connect with these communities? Maybe not. But did it lend an undeniable element of interest? Absolutely. I lost count of the laughs and wide-eyed, “Are you out of your mind?” expressions. Cycling along sandy trails marked by lion tracks, and paddling through hippo-infested waters is a conversation starter. Fleckney meant to spark interest and that’s what happened, capturing the attention of social media followers, potential sponsors, and like-minded folks who followed his adventure.

I asked Fleckney if he thought Challenge Africa had “worked.” Fleckney tells me it worked in the sense of building relationships and laying the groundwork for the future, but with the fundraising goal yet to be reached, something he’s continuing to work on, he admits, “In that sense, it hasn’t worked.”

What would he do differently? He says he’d have kept costs even lower and been more hard-hitting in his storytelling, perhaps showing the reality of poaching. “I was trying to do it in a nice way or a happy way rather than harshly,” he says. But he wonders, had people felt closer to the cause, perhaps they’d have been more inclined to donate.

From a personal perspective, centering local voices is what made Challenge Africa feel different to some other fundraisers. Fleckney aligned himself with causes that already exist; he didn’t start a new foundation or define anyone’s goals for them. Instead, he chose projects already improving lives and started by the people who live there, with the organizers determining what these projects want and need. But the driving motivation—rather than fundraising from home—was to meet people and hear their stories; to see how their projects are making a difference and how they can keep doing just that.

—-

The writer traveled with Journeysmiths, organizers of Challenge Africa. Fleckney is planning further fundraising events, and Weightman-Harton is working on a short documentary—clips will premier at Craghoppers’ Edinburgh store during a free Q&A event with Fleckney on Thursday 29 September 2022.

***

Adventure.com strives to be a low-emissions publication, and we are working to reduce our carbon emissions where possible. Emissions generated by the movements of our staff and contributors are carbon offset through our parent company, Intrepid. You can visit our sustainability page and read our Contributor Impact Guidelines for more information. While we take our commitment to people and planet seriously, we acknowledge that we still have plenty of work to do, and we welcome all feedback and suggestions from our readers. You can contact us any time at hello@adventure.com. Please allow up to one week for a response.