Back in 90 something we were clearing landmines in Mozambique and had cleared a road to a small town which had been cut off in guerrilla teristory for 18 years. On arrival I was met by a small contingency of local bigwigs, the Mayor, Medical Officer, Chief of Police etc. They asked me what I would like as a gift for our work, stressing that they were very poor. I said that to stand on the bank of the nearby Zambezi river (sh it, its big) would be enough for me. They went into a huddle and then suggested that I might prefer to take a local woman as a wife instead. I declined, politely. Eventualy they said I could go to the river, but insisted on giving me an armed soldier to go with me and a lecture. The lecture consisted of being told not to go anywhere near a Hippo, as they were very unpredictable and violent. I was also told that if I went near the waters edge I had to beware of crocs as there were man eaters in them there parts. And for good measure they told me that if I fell in the river there was a good chance that I would be snaffled by a Bull Shark. But neither the shark or the croc would follow me very far, however a pissed off Hippo was quite capable of running surprisingly fast and surprisingly far. They dont smell that good either.
