A sporting life in Africa

Aidan Hartley recalls the thrill of fighting back against armed cattle rustlers

- Aidan Hartley

Until only a few years ago, there was not a single fence between us and the distant Ethiopian frontier 300 miles north of us. It was a free and wild space, a territory for nomads, cattle rustlers and brigands.

“Stolen!” yelled Lopeyok. “Bandits!” It took a few seconds for me to understand what was happening. Lopeyok, now leaning on his knees, panted. “Samburu! Rustled! Guns! Steers!” I looked where Lopeyok pointed and saw a great plume of dust in the distance. Raiders were rushing our cattle away across the plains. On the VHF radio I tried to reach the police. Silence. Fortunately, Tom on the neighbouring ranch of Loisaba did hear me. The farm askari (ranger) Ekuwam and other workers, roused from meat-eating on their day off, gathered with guns, spears, knives, clubs and tomahawks. Every man was wide-eyed, excited.