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CHRISTMAS TRAIL – IMFOLOZI 2005
“It is good the animals are in charge – you have to do what they say.” Scelo
It was exciting to finally be at the H.Q of the Wilderness Leadership School filling up a rucksack and heading off to Imfolozi for a five day trail. Outside the office three young people greeted me with a friendly smile: Zanele; Scelo; and Prince. They were coming too, sponsored by the Ian Player/Magqubu Ntombela Scholarship Fund. I felt relieved, as I knew instantly that we would all get along. Zanele, a confident Zulu woman, had already done a trail in the Drakensberg. I would soon discover that she was an upbeat person, who could laugh and sing her way through tough times, refusing to be defeated by a bout of flue, or any other obstacle that might spoil her wilderness experience.
Mandla Buthelezi would guide us, in the company of two conservation giants - Paul Dutton and Mdiceni Guemede. Both men were unaware that the other would be joining this trail, and were clearly delighted to see each other again having worked together many years ago at Lake St Lucia.
That night as I lay on the smooth rocks looking out over the Black Imfolozi river , the warm air was scented from the umThombothi firewood. The night sky was lit with myriad stars. Scelo was on night watch. I could see him shining the torch on the baby crocodiles paddling below. Suddenly a loud bark was right beside him. I jumped. Nothing more than a nyala. A hyena called from somewhere. A thousand frogs suddenly had something to say. I felt humbled by the great achievement of the men who had fought, lobbied and campaigned in the toughest battles to restore this paradise that had shrunk to a smattering of white rhino in the 1950’s. I also wondered about the effects of DDT and marvelled at nature’s incredible ability to fight back. Imfolozi had stunned me on first sight with its dramatic scenery, and distant blue hills. The wide meandering sandy river was far more beautiful than I could have imagined.
I was woken in the morning by very different barks. This time a large and impressive troop of baboons swaggered past, males first, followed by the females with the young following up the rear. There must have been 40-50 of them. Babies screeched as they panicked at the prospect of having to jump down from the rocks and move on to the exposed banks of the riverbed. They were rescued by siblings and mothers and rode away piggyback style clinging to the fur.
In the distance I could see 2 rhinos, a mother and her calf gently wading into the water for early morning refreshment. The clouds were still tinged with pink, and suddenly a number of birds appeared. Vultures, kites and eagles cast around looking for thermals to launch themselves higher and further away. Next a large herd of buffalo splashed into the water, breathing heavily intent on not being shoved aside by other purposeful buffalo. Two bull elephants emerged next from the distant hilly woodland – calling and trumpeting, as they headed into the water - the elder male reassuring the younger. It is impossible to imagine a better start to a morning.
We packed and moved on removing our shoes to cross the river. Where were those crocs? We were lucky to be in the best company. I loved to be around Mdecini - he was always reassuring me despite the fact I couldn’t speak a word of Zulu. Always first up in the morning, he would greet me with a smile and turn and point to something interesting that had been missed. Now, as we crossed through an area of acacia woodland he looked apprehensive. Three white rhinos to the right of us hadn’t seen us. He brilliantly imitated the warning call of a bird that rhinos recognise as a signal that danger is close by. The rhinos turned and moved away.
We walked on in silence, single file behind Mdiceni and Mandla who both carried guns. The sun beat down on us and it was soon time to take a rest. We studied a thorn tree whose branches were used at tradition Zulu funerals. We picked wild basil used for cooking, and sniffed mhlonyna leaves used for colds. Mandla - was the perfect teacher, and diplomat. Things just seem to effortlessly fall into place. His inherited and scientific knowledge enriched our daily walks. We were absorbed by rhino dung, dung beetles and territory marking for quite a while, once he had sparked our interest. Mandla is an amusing and skilful mimic, and it was very entertaining watching him impersonate the different animals behaviour. Equally absorbing was watching him work with raw materials ensuring ‘no trace, minimum impact’ ethics when building fires, or extracting drinking water from the sand. The cooking pot was cleaned paradoxically by a thin layer of silt..
I told Paul how I had become a great admirer of Laurens van der Post’s writing, and we talked about ‘Heart of the Hunter’. We put on our backpacks and headed off with the rest of the group. Two minutes later I stopped dead in my tracks. Across the path lay a praying mantis....
After an enjoyable day of walking through the acacia woodland learning more about traditional medicine and picnicking under the shade of giant Sycamore Figs, we refreshed ourselves with an afternoon swim in the river. Scelo put on a mud mask; I let the current carry me down stream. The wind suddenly got up and the sky darkened. Mandla said we should head back to camp to check on our tents. On arrival at the rocks, only two tents were visible. The third was submerged in the river, with a sleeping bag floating on top of the water. My tent and Zenele’s tent! Mandla gallantly leapt in to retrieve our shelter, carefully avoiding the crocodiles. We left it to dry out on the steaming rocks. Meanwhile, my lingering headache had intensified to a full-on migraine that was not going to budge. The first drops of rain started to fall. I put on my waterproofs and rolled out my mat, and laid down on the ancient rock, hoping that the humidity would now lessen and my pounding headache would disappear.
Hours seem to pass, and darkness crept into the camp. I could feel that my rain suit was not as waterproof as I had hoped, and the rain fell more and more heavily. I was cold, wet, and thinking that Christmas Eve was no fun at all. I could hear the other’s voices laughing and chattering at the other end of the camp and see the flicker of the fire. My headache was easing, but my spirits were sinking and I decided to go and warm myself by the fire. I searched around for my plate and spoon. They were nowhere to be found as usual, and I cursed the entire situation and wished myself anywhere else. Everyone around the fire had warm, shiny faces and seemed to be enjoying themselves. “How are you feeling? Come and join us…would you like some food?” I would indeed, if I had something to eat it on, and something to eat it with, I muttered to myself. To my astonishment Mandla from nowhere produced a roll of spoons. How good the company felt, and warming the food. We decided to draw straws for night shift; as by day three getting some sleep mattered. Paul was to go first, I drew second shift, Prince third shift etc.
When Paul woke me up it was 11.30 pm. It was a pitch black evening, and now very still. I stoked the fire and moved to the edge of the rock to gaze out over the river. On the far horizon I could see a thin glow of light from a distant storm. Within minutes the sky blazed with lightening, and heavy thunder rattled overhead. I felt small and insignificant, but thrilled by the power and drama of these changing skies. I felt as vulnerable as a cave woman. We were answerable to the raw elements, wild animals, and dependant on our fire. The rain started to fall heavily. Prince appeared to relieve me from my night watch. Happy Christmas and good luck, I said before crawling into my sleeping bag. As I feel into a deep sleep, a voice awoke me – “Come the lions are here”. I crawled outside, and could hear the roars on the ledge above us. I hung around but could see nothing. I went back to my tent and fell into a deep sleep again.
Next morning the camp was buzzing with stories…”The lioness came down the path… she was a famously tricky one. Mdeceni pointed his gun at her… Mandela shone the torch in her eyes…she backed off. Two unfortunate zebras squealed in their death throes, before they were demolished by the lions – all 14 of them. The baboons on the neighbouring cliffs had chatted and screeched in fear…crocodiles swam underneath waiting for pickings.” And I had missed all the action!
Compensation was on the way. It was early dawn and suddenly 12 wild dogs appeared on the banks of the sandy riverbed dragging an impala. We watched as the male sentries stood guard, and the pups, and females ate first. When every member of the pack had eaten, it was playtime, and they chased, leaped and cavorted on the sand. When the dogs departed a solitary hyena appeared and stuck his head into the water to retrieve a stolen limb, craftily buried during last night’s action. Lapet-faced vultures circled overhead. A Goliath heron took a stroll in the distance, and a young Bateleur eagle tested its wings.
It was a busy time, and Paul wisely insisted we climb up the ledge and do a forensic on last nights events. Firstly, we saw the lion spoor – there had been a huge male around. Large patches of dark red blood stained the earth. . We saw the great distance the zebra had been dragged. We saw bits of skin, and bone that would be shortly tidied away by one of nature’s ‘cleaners’, that were out in force on this Christmas morning. We moved around like detectives unravelling a murder mystery.
Paul explained the history of Imfolozi. How the Zulu people had lived in harmony with the wildlife, always hunting respectfully and seasonally. He talked about how the great changes came about, and the struggles with farmers and politicians. We then moved on to the great success story of the white rhino. I learned who the charismatic species were in this thriving eco-system, and their different roles. My fragmented knowledge was finally starting to pull together.
It was the last evening, and we carefully moved around the elephants to get to the rocks to set up our final camp. It was a great privilege to be able to sit and watch the elephants at such close quarters, giving them the respect and wide berth needed for this highly intelligent and sensitive animal – one of the great victims of the 20th / 21st centuries, where their needs are not met with increasing human numbers and shrinking habitat.
Mdeceni and Prince started to go over last night’s events again. I asked Prince for his version. He told me he had never been more frightened in his life, yet I have never seen anyone look more exhilarated while telling a story! As the most nervous member of the group, it was unfortunate for him that he should be on night guard when the roars were heard and the flashing eyes and manes appeared over the top of the cliff. However, his own eyes where shining now, and he and Mdeceni went through events again, and again, until they became inseparable, united by the thrill of this shared experience.
We talked about highs and lows of the trail. As far as Mandla, Mdiceni and Scelo were concerned the high was the thrill of the lions in the camp. For Prince & Zaneli it was seeing the male black rhino charging out of the bush, snorting and stamping with his tail cocked in defence of his territory. Paul’s high was meeting with Mdeceni again, who had been his highly valued game guard. Low point was that he missed the company of Magqubu. I said that it was thanks to Macqubu that we were here. Funds raised by the Magqubu Ntombela Scholarship Fund had sewn new seeds by enabling Zanele, Scelo and Prince to have a wilderness experience, and had brought all of us together. We were then treated to a fabulous ‘Magqubu and the lion’ story told and re-enacted by Mdeceni.
I was completely knackered when I went to sleep that night, and at 3.30pm when Zanele woke me up for night guard, I was unable to show any enthusiasm as she excitedly shone the torch at the lurking baby crocodiles below. There was a soft drizzle, and I went to warm myself by the fire, and make a cup of tea. A dipcop broke the silence to announce another day. The dark drizzly night was turning into a pale grey dawn with the purest white mist spreading on top of the distant hills. The scene was as melancholic and subtly beautiful as any poet could describe. To my left a female rhino immersed herself up to the knees in the river, her calf following her in. They took deeps slurps of the water. To my right a bull elephant appeared from the hills and crossed into the middle of the water. He drank stretching out his trunk, silhouetted in the early morning light. Impala and water buffalo crossed the sandy banks.
As we prepared breakfast, I reflected on what Scalo had told me. This experience in the wilderness had strengthened his belief in himself and strengthened his resolve for his tough work at the Ethembeni Community Care Centre. He told me: “The natural beauty calms my nerves and my anger. Many good things have come from sharing the place and the experience with the rest of the group.”
We breakfasted, packed, and headed off, aware of time pressures. The acacia woodland was alive with bird song. It was the red-chested cuckoo that sent me into a trance, and as the repetitive, but harmonious sound seemed to be reaching a crescendo, I was jolted into the modern world by the roaring sound of a motorcar. All of us felt tired and gloomy as we piled into the van. We drove to the museum to see the excellent exhibition set up for world famous Operation Rhino, with photographs of the game capture and history of the trans-locations. Next we dropped Mdeceni back at his Muzi way up in the hills, then drove on to pay our respects to Magqubu’s ninety year old widow, Tabete. I gave her an Erythrina leaf and she felt it and smiled. I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness.
My Zulu name on trail was ‘Lucky’. When I think of the vast number of wild animals that had surrounded us, the deep wilderness experience shared with great people, and the friendship of those that made it possible, I can say it is true - I am lucky!
“The fire takes me back to the beginning. - I knew that by being here, that I could survive outside if other things broke down. The wind is pure, soft and fresh… Here, I have to believe in myself, and face things – even going to the loo in the darkness is a challenge. We have to listen and trust our guides, otherwise we could die” - Zanele
Special thanks to:
Ian Player, Wayne Elliott, Mandla Buthelezi, Paul Dutton, Mdeceni Guembe
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