... in Mocambique in November last year I decided to
walk from the coast to Mareja in an attempt to gain a clearer picture of
what is happening 'on the ground', as the saying goes. It is a dense 2-3 day trek. Sure enough it did not take an hour before we (my
guide, the Witchdoctor Unkahili, and I) stumbled on newly opened farm
land within the Park, freshly cut logs, tractor spoor and bamboo operations. Further
into the bush and no sign of game of any sort. Unkahili spotted some bamboo cutters and caused a stir. One of them came pacing past me and
disappeared out of sight in our direction of travel sure enough he was
going to warn poachers further up the path. Shortly afterwards I lost my guide completely, he just vanished with our water supply and mangoes in his pack and I ended up with a pound of salt,
dry food and virtually nothing to drink.
A few more hours and I
reached the Mareja boundary in the form of a dry river. On the other
side the first elephant spoor. A largish animal alone. I continued and
came across fresh human tracks, three or four men in pursuit of the same
animal. I carried on and the elephant spoor kept reappearing, in and
out of thick thorn bush. The poachers had been trying to follow the same prints. Another 3km and I decided to rest for the night gathering
dropplets of water from vines and catching about a cup full during the
night from light rain.
The next day the story became clear. The
elephant was a cow with a brand new calf. She had been hiding the calf
during the day, running in circles to throw the hunters off her track. At
night she would rejoin her calf and travel some distance before
repeating the same procedure. At about 6 am, an hour and a half
into my travels, I caught her wind. She was near but completely silent. I
carried on trusting in the fact that she will recognise me. If not
personally then from hear sake. The sun was up and the heat unbearable. I
lost my direction and was now walking simply due west. There she was
again now traveling in front of me with her calf in the same direction.
I followed her track, possibly the only way I was going to get through these
thorny thickets. Miniature poo balls no bigger then my fist. It
occurred to me that I was now between the hunter and the prey. Armed
with only a lady sized can of pepper spray, out of water and slowly out
of steam. Months in the rich fields of Europe had made me fat and lazy. I
thought much about my wife and child and found that these thoughts
stiffened my resolve to protect the cow and calf in front of me, probably less then a
few hundred meters away. Non the less I was getting weak and the
relentless sun was scorching me, drying my throat and turning every step
into an ordeal. Tiredness was making me careless and my legs were being
cut deeply by thorns.
At about 11am I came across my main east-west
track through Mareja. A massive relief but also a daunting yard stick.
Another 15km to go! I would have to stop soon and spend the rest of the
day gathering water. At dusk I continued, exhausted and overheated: 3 or
4 km then sit, sleep for 10mins then on towards Mareja and to the
waterhole, some 3km from the house. Surprisingly I made it and the closer I came the more intense the signs of elephants and their fresh sent.
There must be at least 40 animals here I thought. My heart lifted, they
are here because its the safest place they know. I headed for the water.
Some 200m to go and in the star light I could see a dark turreted wall
to my left. Now I wondered how best to negotiate this? I
grunted and talked to them with my dried out throat, they did not move an inch. I carried on and got to the water, took off my clothes and
submerged myself all the way to my chin. It felt divine and it wasn’t
till half an hour later I realised that the water wreaked of animal poo and
urine. I had already drunk a fair amount of it through my quadrupled up
shirt. Floating in the pee feeling blissful watching the stars my
thoughts returned to the ellies and at that very moment an enormous trumpeting sound came from the other side. I had totally overlooked
another herd of animals to my rear and they were now towering above me,
obviously getting nervous and thirsty. I hurried out of the puddle,
apologised, grabbed my clothes and full bottle and made off. The turreted
wall I’d passed earlier had disappeared and the road was clear.
After
less then a km I was overmanned by tiredness but feeling cool and
relaxed I perched myself on my pack and fell fast asleep. An hour or so
later I was rudely awoken by the very close roar of a lion. Somewhere
between the herd and my position. Whoops. They would not be able to
help me if Caramo (Makua for Lion) was to decide to diversify his diet. I got up and made
the remaining 3km in good time. There was much surprise at my arrival
and the rangers stealthily surrounded my position pointing all they had
at me - two rifles, a bow and arrow, two spears and a bunch of catanas
(pangas). I did not sleep for hours, my belly bursting with no less then
5litres of fresh, crystal clear water and my heart dancing with the memory
of what had just happened. Yet I could not talk to anyone about it.
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