A rather longer, true story extracted from my autobiography.
The 225 km drive to Marangora was hot and slow. Both vehicles were heavily loaded with everything we needed for a three-week safari. John and Myra, Dawn’s parents, travelled with John’s brother Peter and his wife Adrienne in their Land Cruiser. They had arrived days before from the Uk for this safari.
Dawn, my wife and I, drove up from Pietermaritzburg (1100km) with our daughters Kathlyn (6) and Lindasy (4). We travelled with my parents in their VW Westphalia Camper. The girls, rotating between vehicles as the mood took them, were in 7th heaven with all the attention. December is not the best month for an African Safari, but it was the only time we could all get together.
A brief stop at Marangora to confirm our bookings and get us directions to Mvubu (Hippo) Lodge took us off the tar and onto 120 km of gravel and sand roads into Mana Pools Game Reserve. Our stay was booked for seven days. This drive was even hotter and slower with many stops on the way. Temperatures in the Zambezi Valley seldom drop below 28º C in summer and can rise to 45º C without considering humidity.
The lodge, set close to the riverbank, was a large, double-storied square with rooms below and a shaded viewing deck above. Most of us slept upstairs under mosquito nets. The river was more than a mile wide here and right on our doorstep, flowing in wide channels which were infested with crocs, hippos and elephants.
Early on our second morning Peter, Adrienne and I joined John on a drive east. John, a life-long ornithologist, wanted to record one or other endemic bird species in the Jessie scrub. When he parked and set off into the bush, we decided to walk to Vundu Camp, which I estimated was a couple of kms north as the crow flies. Mana Pools is one of the few big five game reserves in Africa that allows tourists to walk unescorted if they choose. The only provisos are a signed indemnity at the gate and large warning signs; DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS. Most visitors have no intention of becoming their next meal.
Walking in the Miombo woodland of the flood plain is not how the crow flies. Detours around thick stands of Jessie scrub with its itchy buffalo beans and tsetsi flies can extend the walk some distance. Other obstacles like elephants, lions, buffalo and baboons must also be given a wide berth. Armed as we were with cameras, binoculars and walking sticks we were hardly equipped to hold them off. I also carried a large flask of tea on a strap over my shoulder.
The slow walk with frequent photo stops and a cool splash in the river took a lot longer than expected. Adrienne, glancing at her watch, noted it was already 11 am. John would be fuming back at the vehicle. We began making our way back. Deciding to walk through the bush on a short cut was my next mistake. That was when the trouble started.
A km or so from the river we walked straight into a large herd of buffalo, about 200 or more, I guessed. They were grazing and ruminating peacefully under the huge trees. Despite their reputation of ruthless killers, buffalo are for the most part peaceful creatures. We skirted around them, but quite a number began to follow us. They are also very inquisitive creatures.
It was mainly cows and adolescents that followed us. The big-bossed bulls were not too interested. Still, the threat was evident. As they gathered around us, escape was becoming impossible. I headed for a huge anthill with trees growing out of it. We clambered up, found rough, uncomfortable seats and waited. They came closer, within ten yards or so, and stood ruminating, chewing the cud. We were completely surrounded.
The impasse lasted for a long while. We finished our last tea and waited for them to move away. They were quite content and had other ideas. Losing patience, I slithered down the anthill and cut some branches to wave at them. Nothing happened. I then broke off some mud clods from the anthill and began tossing them at those closest. This had an immediate effect. At first, they shuffled and glared at me angrily. And then, like Moses opening the Dead Sea, they began opening a gap. As it widened, I called Peter and Adrienne to follow me. We walked through, waving our branches as we went. It worked. A few followed us, closing the gap behind us, but most simply lost interest. Speaking quietly, I warned my followers with the old African adage; ‘Whatever you do, don’t run’. Our walking pace would have put us into an Olympic final though.
The road was a welcome sight. Adrienne, on her first ever African safari, heaved a huge sigh of relief. Peter, with some experience in Kenya, complimented me on the way I handled it. I was not going to admit anything. The good news was that our pants were still dry. The bad news was that there were two sets of tracks on the road. One going in, and another going out. John had either abandoned us, or was on a widespread search-and- rescue mission.
We set off down the hot, dusty road with the prospect of a 15 km hike in the mid-day sun ahead. We decided not to add the extra distance to Main Camp to our walk, keeping to the main road and foregoing the need to slake our thirst. Our troubles were not over yet though.
About 3 km from the lodge, we came across a large bull elephant with two younger askaris. He stood under a huge sausage tree (Kigelia Africana) with hind feet on the road and gave us a beady eye. He was not moving. One of the askaris was right of the road, the other to the left. We tried to skirt them, but got the warning signals. When an elephant flaps its ears and raises its trunk it is giving notice. If it puts its head half-down, curls the trunk and starts moving, it is time to go. Quickly. This is the one exception to the don’t run rule.
Try as we would to get around them, the askaris continued the game. First left, then right, while the big bull stood fast. Never, ever, try to walk or drive too close behind an elephant. They can swivel around almost instantly and will squash you. It was now after three. We were hot, tired and frustrated, but could not break the impasse.
The sound of a diesel vehicle did this for us. Listening intently for a few seconds, the elephants moved deeper into the bush. Only one vehicle has this effect. Their memories of Game Rangers and Land Cruisers were not pleasant and usually best avoided. John’s beige cruiser drew up alongside us and I got a stinging rebuke as we climbed in.. Justifiably so, considering all the mistakes I had made.
That evening around the dinner table the advice continued. To their credit, Peter and Adrienne did support me. They spoke of my calm courage in the face of deadly danger. I did add that I am blessed with a brain that goes icy cold and clear when faced with mortal danger and I do not panic. John and my Dad nodded, they understood, but the rest insisted it was sheer courage. Who am I to argue.
John rose to propose a toast.
“The events of today shall be cast into the annals of history and shall be known forever more as THE MISGUIDED DETOUR.”