By Admore Mbonda in Lusaka, Zambia
On the shores of Lake Kariba, where fishermen cast their nets at sunrise and wildlife rangers patrol the vast waters, the families of Timothy Tembo and Chidhumo Mabharani still wait for the men who never returned home.
Seven years may have passed since that fateful day, but for their loved ones—and for the close-knit ranger community that continues to mourn—the memory of December 31, 2019, is as sharp as ever.
Timothy and Chidhumo were more than uniforms. They were fathers, sons, colleagues and guardians of one of Southern Africa’s most threatened ecosystems. Their work was dangerous, often invisible, but it was work they carried out with pride.
“They loved the lake. They believed protecting wildlife was their purpose,” said a senior ranger who worked with both men. “We still feel the emptiness they left behind.”
The Mission That Turned Fatal
That morning, the two rangers were carrying out a routine but risky duty: escorting a group of suspected poachers—Zambian nationals Follet Moonga, Lovemore Muzungu and Peter Hanyulu—to the CID Minerals, Flora and Fauna Unit in Kariba after arresting them for illegal fishing and crossing into Zimbabwean waters.
It was a duty they had performed countless times. But this time, they never made it back.
According to the State Advocate, Mabel Syamaila, a violent confrontation erupted aboard the ZIMParks pelican boat. She described the assault as “cold-blooded,” alleging that the accused overpowered the rangers, killed them, and dumped their bodies into the deep waters of Lake Kariba.
Those waters, usually calm and shimmering, became the silent witness to a crime that shook two nations.
The Search, the Discovery, and the Grief
When the rangers didn’t return, panic rippled through the ZimParkscommunity.
Detective Constable Tapiwa Mugwenhi remembers the frantic days that followed—the sleepless nights, the relentless scanning of the vast lake, the dread of what they might find.
The missing pelican boat was eventually spotted drifting into Zambian waters. Days later, on January 5, 2020, the worst fears were confirmed when senior ranger Nicholas Chinembiri and his team found the bodies of Timothy and Chidhumo floating on the lake.
“We were broken,” Chinembiri said softly. “It wasn’t just losing colleagues—it was losing brothers.”
A Trial with Deep Emotional Wounds
The accused face charges of murder, assaulting law enforcement officers, and destroying government property. Their defense argues the case relies on circumstantial evidence, claiming a chaotic struggle that could have been self-defense.
But for the families of the fallen rangers, each courtroom appearance is a reopening of wounds.
Judge Chawatama visited the crime scene during an inspection in loco, walking the same shoreline the rangers once patrolled.
Rangers who attended the visit said it felt like a moment of acknowledgment—a recognition of the dangers they face every day.
Despite the arrests of the three suspects, one man, Obert Kasunka, remains at large. His absence is another weight for the grieving families.
Beyond the Courtroom: A Story of Sacrifice
To many, the trial is about justice. But to the ranger community, the tragedy is also a reminder of the quiet heroism that protects Africa’s wildlife.
Rangers like Timothy and Chidhumo work in harsh conditions—long nights, unpredictable encounters, and constant threats from poachers who are increasingly desperate and violent. Their sacrifice underscores the human cost behind conservation successes that visitors rarely see.
“They died doing what they believed in,” a colleague said, his voice heavy. “We owe it to them to keep fighting for the wildlife they protected.”
A Legacy Carried by Their Families and Fellow Rangers
As proceedings continue, the court’s ruling will shape more than a legal outcome—it will influence how two nations confront cross-border poaching, and how rangers are protected in the future.
But for the families of Timothy Tembo and Chidhumo Mabharani, justice is about more than policies or regional cooperation. It is about honouring the memory of two men who gave everything to protect their homeland’s natural heritage.
Every time the sun sets over Lake Kariba, and the water glows gold, those who knew them say the same thing:
“We remember.”
About Author
