The unusual story of one of Africa's last big game hunters

This is Evo's story and his village is called Lardo

I’m incredibly excited to share this 4-part series with you.

In this series I introduce you to some of the more interesting personalities I’ve met while working in remote Africa.

I briefly touched on this in Life Spice and this is a continuation of introducing you to some of those colourful characters I’ve come across.

Just a heads up; Part 3 is quite graphic so will be behind a paywall for our paid subscribers, so if you are enjoying the series, consider subscribing to get the full experience and break the paywall for the price of a coffee by clicking the subscribe link.

Ok folks, lets dive right in…but beware: there is a murder in this true story.

Many, many years ago before the river mouth opened up to the sea. Lardo was a small village of no importance.

Seasons came and went. The women planted cassava and the men fished. Coconut palms were planted and harvested. The palm fronds used for roofing and weaving of baskets and fish traps.

Herr Maier was a rather eccentric character. Driven from his homeland as a young man by a sense of mischief and a yearning for adventure.

His adventurous spirit eventually finds him as a big game hunter in Africa. His wanderings led him to the remote east coast of northern Mozambique. And as so many of his countryman, he finds the local maidens irresistible and soon marries a tribesman’s daughter.

Herr Maier seemed to be a difficult and stubborn man. Far away from his homeland he didn’t always understand the customs of the village and in the misunderstandings of a young couple, his wife would often run away to her father’s house and complain about her Swiss husband. Eventually, in frustration, fed up and tired of her moaning, Herr Maier threatened to kill her father if she ever ran away again to complain.

Not long after this final threat, they had terrible fallout and off she ran once more to her father’s house. True to his word, he took down his hunting rifle from the wall, marched off to the chief’s hut and shot his father in law. For this murder he was shipped off to jail on one of the islands (most likely Ibo island) where he was locked up with little hope of escaping.

Years passed and the village life continued as before. The village subsisting now on cassava, coconuts and fish. No more wild game for the pot courtesy of Herr Maier’s rifle. And no hunters to take his place in the village. A void was left behind with his abrupt incarceration.

The seasons came and went. Life carried on. Except now the villagers were terrorized by a rogue buffalo bull. This grumpy bull became increasingly hostile toward the villages and even started killing the villages without the least provocation. Any attempts to kill the old bull were unsuccessful and only made the injured bull even more aggressive, resulting in more deaths. The villages looked for a hunter to kill the buffalo and it was eventually decided if Herr Maier came back and killed the bull he could regain his freedom having paid back his debt to society.

Maier was recalled from prison. He was older now. Aged before his time and plagued with guilt and remorse. But he still had his steely resolve and inborn stubbornness. He would do what he could but he wouldn’t go back to prison. It was either going to be the buffalo’s life or his.

He set to work digging a great big hole. People laughed at the lonely old man, frail now by years of incaceration, and some, still weary of his temper, gave him a wide berth. Maier, unperturbed carried on digging. Eventually after a few days digging, he stood up satisfied and called for a mother still nursing her baby. He climbed up a nearby tree and waited. The wailing child was said to drive the buffalo crazy and it came rushing up only to fall in the hole where Maier promptly dispatched a bullet to the brain.

He was declared a hero and made chief of the village. His mulatto son is now the village chief and the village is prospering. He owns a small fleet of fishing boats he operates as ferries, ferrying villages across the river mouth. His plantations are extensive as is his family. He loves to entertain and tell long stories. I knew Herr Maier’s grandson, Ivo.