We are still up in the north, still working the fences. The lanky figure of Fana strides off along the fenceline, in the direction we have just come from. Looking for wild honey I’m told. Soon he returns, with five pieces of honeycomb, offered to us on a spade. We greedily suck the sweet, golden liquid from the waxy comb….mmmm! I ask Fana if he was stung. Everyone laughs. I assume it was a silly question. They patiently try explain how the honey is collected, but soon I am lost. I ask Fana if he will take me with next time. Yes.
A game drive vehicle is parked where Ross’ broken bakkie usually lives. A perfect opportunity for a night-time adventure. We search for the lions, who have passed close to the house in the day. Circling the block, no fresh tracks. We decide to go in search of easier prey, hyena, at their den.
Perched on the tracker seat on the bonnet, the spotlight in my hand seeks out animals hiding in the darkness. Two eyes shine back at me, blinking, from a tree as we trundle along. A little bushbaby clings to a high-up branch. After some backwards and fowardsing we find the den. One of the pups is out and playing with Mom. A noise off in the bush catches Mom’s attention and she heads off with the two other adults for a closer look. The pup is caught between fear and curiosity. He wants to go see, but doesn’t want to leave the safety of the den. Curiosity gives way to fear and he heads indoors for now. A piercing whoop from one of the adults, just metres away. Chilling to hear so close, so loud. But so beautiful. An archetypal sound of the African bush.
“Do you want to come with to catch rhino this afternoon?” The question comes from Nico. There is only one correct answer to such a question. We assemble at the turn-off to Zuka, in the south. Chap, the vet arrives and we head off. Tracker, Zama, has been with the injured bull on Zuka the whole afternoon. Rhino are used to game drive vehicles so Chap, Musa a couple of others head off to where the rhino is. We stay behind, with a keen ear to the radio. The call comes to move in. The rhino has gone down. Our vehicle comes to a halt. The rhino is down, just 30m from the road. Chap grabs a blindfold and sets off. Nico and Musa follow. But a second rhino sticks close to his fallen brother. Shouting, clapping and beating a knob-kierie against a tree chase him off. Not far. Together with some schoolkid volunteers I move in, camera in hand. The blind-folded rhino lies on his side, his legs shaking, breathing heavily. He has been gored in the genitals by a female. I hope that rhino are not as sensitive to pain as us humans are! Chap injects the patient with penicillin and a multi-vitamin. He also sprays something on the wound. The kids inject the antidote to the tranquilizer, we heave him upright, onto his chest. His skin is rough under our hands. Chap treats the injection wound and we move out, to the vehicles. Not more than 10 or 15 minutes since he went down. A minute and half on Chap’s watch and the rhino is on his feet. Groggy, but on his feet at least. Chap hopes he will link up with his brother by tomorrow.
Sitting having dinner, outside. No wind, clear skies, the sun has just gone down. A roar travels through the cool evening air. Lions. Seconds later an elephant trumpets, clearly not happy. We can only imagine the scene playing out at dam, just a kilometer or two away from us. Ross arrives back after a drive and we set off to go see the lions. Along the way we see the elephants, moving off from the dam, towards our home. We skirt around them and pull up to Imagine Dam. In the gentle red of the spotlight we watch the cubs tearing away at an nyala carcass, just metres away. Granny lion looks on and Mom is more interested in sleep. We head back home. The ellies are everywhere, right around our house. Ross calls us outside. A young bull passes the open area out front, silhouetted against a nearly-full moon. The cracking of branches all around us is broken only the whooping of the same hyenas and the whistling call of the fiery-necked nightjar.
We join the sunbirds in the Scotia tree. Amazing sounds of their singing and flapping of their wings. They do not mind our company at all.
Canoeing on the Mzinene River.
Hluhluwe-Imfolozi Game Reserve. I am amazed by the beautiful views. A nice long weekend in good company: Dad and Nicola, Josh's uncle, aunts and cousins: my new family too!
We enter the game reserve and immediately have an encounter with wild dogs.
Mpafa or Buffalo Thorn, the tree which the Zulus use to bring the spirit of the deceased home. The thorns form a 'z', one pointing to the past and the other pointing to the future.
All the lions together at Pipeline Pan during game drive with Ross.
No rushing, rattling vehicle wakes us up. No urgent calls to help fight the fire. But the fire rages, rests and then rages and rests for another two days, keeping a number of the staff busy. Rest days for most for Wednesday and Thursday. A welcome relief. And time spent enjoying game drives with Israeli guide, Gadi. “It’s Gad actually, but if you go to an English-speaking country and say your name is Gad (pronounced Gud), with the accent people think you’re being a little more than arrogant.”
Black rhino, three of them up on the marsh, followed by a spectacular sunset. Spectacular, definitely. But only sort of a sunset actually. Before the sun can reach the horizon the burning, red orb is swallowed up by the smoke, which still spills into the sky from Mkuze Game Reserve to the west.
Morning game drive takes us winding up through the burnt mountains of Zuka, then dipping down into lush riverbeds, home to the beautiful Sycamore Fig, “which occurs from Israel to South Africa” Gadi proudly announces. Looking past two moms and two baby giraffe just 30m ahead of us, we drink in the breathtaking vista that is Zuka plains. The coffee with Amarula for our drinks stop tastes even better this morning!
Friday is back to work day for me. I’m always excited to go back and even though I’m hobbling around on blisters now, it’s good to be back with the guys. We repair elephant fencing around the Sand Forest and Bayete Camp. Slack wire running through the charred veld tells us where poles have been burnt out by the fire. The sand is soft for a change. Sinking new poles is easy.
Saturday morning and it’s another early one. By 5:30 we are on the road, heading south to the nearby Hluhluwe-Imfolozi Game Reserve. Rendezvous with what is certainly a recent record number of Cox’s is at 7am, at the bottom gate.
Hugs and hellos are exchanged, together with introductions at a picnic site in the reserve. It’s just amazing to see everyone. Together. Even Dad and Nicola flew up to join all of us.
It’s not long before breakfast preparations are interrupted. Wild dog kill just two minutes’ drive away. We all pile into our vehicles and speed off knowing that wild dog make short work of any meal. Even the vultures have already started arriving so we’d better hurry! We count nine dogs, feeding on a male impala, killed surely just minutes ago in the reeds of a river bed just off the road. Soon they move off, full. And the meat pretty well finished. Spiraling vultures descend from the sky, to fight over the scraps.
Morning and evening game drives every day. Loads of rhino, buffalo and elephant and all up close. Even black rhino. All crowned perhaps by a lioness up in a beautiful Marula Tree. Braais under the stars both nights. Beers. A time to catch up and share family stories, many told for the umpteenth time. Lots of laughing and teasing and a commitment to get together like this again next year.
It may be Saturday morning but no lazing about today. The sun has barely woken up and we are driving south with long-time, local, Zulu, Phinda ranger, Benson, looking for ellies and buffalo. Beautiful buffalo sighting, a herd of maybe a hundred, closeby. And a few lazy cattle egrets hitching a ride on buffalo backs, between insect foraging sessions in the long grass. Drinks are taken on the Inkwazi Floodplain and for any doubters that this area was under sea millions of years ago, Benny does his own foraging and very quickly produces a fossil of some ancient sea snail. Our imaginations try to construct what this landscape might have looked like all the way back then…
Frrrt Frrrt…Wind beats. A rare, endemic and spectacular painted bird, a Neergard’s Sunbird, lands just 60cm away from me. Its plumage sparkles, iridescent, in the afternoon sun. It is not alone, dozens of sunbirds, flit around us, in blues, reds, yellows and many shades between black and white. Five of the six species you get on Phinda. Ten metres up from the ground, in the branches of a Scotia tree we sit. This is the sunbirds’ playground, not the usual environment for humans and so they show no fear of us. A Purple-crested Touraco flies in, just metres away, unaware of our presence. Also unaware of our presence for surprisingly long, is ranger Brett, in his vehicle below, showing his guests the somewhat famous sunbird tree. The tracker has spotted us and chuckles from his seat on the bonnet. Binos hunt for close up views of the tweeting birds, and soon we are discovered. “Refugees from Mozambique probably.” Brett quips with his guests when he eventually spots us.
There are always new adventures to fill the free days with and today we go canoeing, on the Mzinene River, right in the south. Giant kingfishers, the size of pigeons, lure us downstream, while the bright yellow fever tree forest in the distance, shines from afar, and looks on in silence. Nyala drink nervously as we float past and scatter away from the water as we get too close. Water and mud fights between the three canoes are kept to a bit of a minimum and soon we are back at Inkwazi ranger training camp, for eggs on toast, looking down at wildebeest frolicking on the floodplains below.
Candlelit dinner on the verandah, no background music, but the rasping cough of a leopard in the distance, and the whistling of a nightjar closeby keep us company. Soon these sounds are joined by cracking branches. Ellies feeding a few hundred metres away. We hope they will pass by. They don’t.
A swim at Forest Lodge pool is always allowed, during game drive. And it’s always a good chance to check out the bird hide. Today we get another special bird, the delicate little Green Twinspot. But before that we lounge at the pool. A chopper, a Robbie 44, flies past. Low. Close. Kakhi-clad fellows hang out of the sides, counting animals for the annual Phinda game count. Three choppers, three days, covering the full 25,000 hectares.
It’s hot and windy today. It feels like we’ve skipped spring and just moved straight onto summer. Fixing fences again at Skelm Gate, the wind provides some relief from the heat. Just across the fence, dry grass and branches crackle in the billowing smoke of a controlled burn at Passport, Mkuze Game Reserve. “Will it jump across to Phinda?” I ask. “No, it will stop at the road” Jimson assures me.
Lunch is taken at home today, and twenty minutes into it, the vehicle clatters up to our door. “Ikhona inkinga enkulu!”. The fire did jump after all and “There is a big problem!”. I pile into the back with the guys sitting on the water bauser and we fly down Main Zinaav, towards the block just south of Skelm Gate. Towards the fire eating up precious grazing on Phinda.
The pump on the back of the bakkie roars to life and the pipe in Simon Naylor’s hand spits out water. Far too little I think. Five or six of us follow him, slamming the rubber flaps at the end of our beaters into the embers and ash. Making sure no spark of fire has survived the dousing. Musa rushes off with another bakkie load of beaters to tackle the fire further north. Here we are at the head of the fire, the business end. We are moving too slowly though. The grass is thirsty and the dry, north wind hurries the fire on ahead of us. Having lost too much ground we pile into the two vehicles and head towards the southern side of the block. Forget the head, let’s burn a break next to the road. Oil trickles out of the drip torch. Soon it is flaming, and traveling down the road in the hands of Rasta, lighting the grass just north of the road. Beaters in hand we wait, ready to tackle the blaze should it jump the road. More vehicles have joined us. More beaters too, from Inyathi Anti-poaching.
Yellow-billed Kites circle above the dark grey of the flames that rise out of the bushes to the north east. They will snap up hapless victims of the blaze, roasted in the flames. You can spot the head of the fire by the shade of smoke. Dark grey smoke belongs to the head. The firebreak is roaring now. And smoking furiously. My eyes well up behind my sunglasses and my nose starts to run. The dry bushes close to the road are dangerous. Beaters stand sentry either side of the danger points.
Shouts go up. “Ujombile!”. The fire has jumped. We’re warned, in a Zulu word poached from Afrikaans. Beaters rush in, black rubber flaps attack the flames. To no avail, the wind has beaten us again and the fire races south. We chase after it. The tractors with a huge bauser labour behind us as the Landcruisers hurtle through the bush.
The drip torch goes to work again. Beaters stand by.
No-one can believe that Mkuze would choose to start a burn on a day like today. Low humidity. Pumping wind. A blazing sun beating down. No warning from them. No 5-metre firebreak as required by law. And their controlled burns amount to tossing a match in an area and letting is burn naturally. Lance, the Mkuze warden looks sheepish, and quite helpless too.
The head is racing towards the road, to the south-east now, and the bausers are ready. Waiting. We patrol the road further west. The firebreak is in full blaze now. Talking to the team of beaters, Jimson suddenly spins around. A beater sentry down the road is shouting to us. Ujombile again! We race to control the blaze, but again we are thwarted. My eyes burn in the smoke. I use my hat to try filter out the smoke. It does a pretty weak job.
Thembankosi, a chap from the alien removal team and I trudge further south, in the wake of the vehicles who have rushed off to prepare a third fire break. Through the haze we can just make out a small herd of zebra traveling in the opposite direction, upwind of the onrushing flames.
We cut east, and join up with the Sodwana Bay Road. The head is some 500m away still and Simon arrives in a cloud of dust. “Watch that the fire doesn’t jump the Sodwana Bay Road up ahead” he blurts out and speeds off. Shortly after a game drive vehicle rolls up. Ice cold water has never tasted this good! Our first drink since we started tackling the fire some 3 hours ago.
Thembankosi drink from one of the less cold bottles, and not too much. He explains that drinking lots of water in one go will just make our knees heavy as all the excess water gets stored there. And ice cold water is very bad for your kidneys. He never has ice. Ever.
Warm, dry winds rush ash-laden smoke on towards us, ahead of the flames. A short way to the south we can just make out shadowy figures and vehicles through the smoky haze, rushing around. Two yellow beams from the tractor are almost swallowed up. The big bauser is being moved into position.
Simon rushes by. And then back. And we march south with the fire, hoping and checking that the grass on this side doesn’t catch a spark from the flames. Our hope is in vain, but our checking is not. Also having joined us, Seth quickly rouses someone on the phone and one of the bausers races up within seconds, to work amongst the beaters frantically flapping at the flames that have jumped. We have saved a huge block from burning and are sure that the animals will be grateful for our efforts.
But the danger has not left us just yet. Lala palms rise up ominously from the yellow-dry grass. Right next to the road and right in the path of the fire. Nothing is more dangerous for a raging bush fire. The leaves will burn furiously and then break off, sailing up in the winds and crossing over the road to settle on the tinder grass. Izinyoni, or birds, is what the Zulus call them.
A chainsaw fire up. Branches are stripped and then the whole palm is cut down. Our hands clutch at the thorny branches and drag the tree deep into the block, away from the road. And then another one. And another one. And then the chain snaps. Never mind. There is no time to mind and no time to waste. We keep stripping what we can by hand, glancing quickly up towards the racing fire-head. Pangas chop and hack and help. But the flames are on us. We beat a retreat across the road. And we wait.
The fire again jumps south. But the palm removal prevents it from jumping east across the Sodwana Bay Road. Simon is relieved. We all are.
Back up north again, for the fire has jumped east in the northern section. Radios coordinate fire-fighting and break-burning. A beater grabs a quick sandwich snack from a clean white platter on the back of the Landcruiser. We also need fuel to keep going.
We’ve moved into the woodland now. The trees cover is dense but the grass load is low. The fire travels slower and is more easily put out. But by now the fire has spread to such a huge area, different teams tackle different areas. I cannot see the sun through the smoke and the trees, but my watch says it is low in the sky now.
I stay behind with Jimson and a fellow beater. To check if the flames return. Soon we are happy that all is well here and we move out, walking across the block to the road. Any road. We follow the flames, past smouldering stumps. My hat again makes pretty poor smoke filter. But it is better than nothing. We trample over crisp, blackened grass, ducking under bushes. It is getting quite dark now. Jimson voices what we’ve all been thinking. Watch out for animals! Kristal’s sms echoes his warning. Be careful. As I’m reading it I fall more than waist-deep into a warthog hole. I have to laugh.
We eventually hit the road. Jimson is on the radio and soon a vehicle arrives, to take us home. To rest. For seven hours we have parried and chased the flames. And still the fire pushes on. South and east. Towards the precious Sand Forest. A small team will stay behind to keep watch, radios at the ready. The vehicle pulls up to Umfaan’s. A tired, drained Jimson bids me farewell in Zulu, “We’ll see each other tomorrow. Or later tonight.” I hope it is tomorrow.
My Zulu is definitely improving, although each day I feel differently about it. The challenge is that very often word for word translations just don’t. Translate that is. So first I need to translate my English questions into different English, English that will fit with what can make sense in Zulu. If that makes any sense at all.
One the chaps I work with, Patrick, complain when Jimson rebukes him for speaking to me in English. “Yes, but I want to learn English!” he says. In Zulu. So I start testing his English. In Zulu too. We are both happy.
Working at Skelm Gate a whirlwind whips by. Red dust, and clump of dry, yellow grass swirl up into the sky in front of us, and then past us on the old Sodwana Bay Road. “Ghosts…” Jerome mutters and spits violently at them. Twice. Chasing them on their way.
Ross has done some work on the bird hide at Forest Lodge and is keen to show us. We trundle down in our car and go check it out. Scaly-throated Honeyguide, Blue-mantled Flycatcher and various other decorative, beautiful birds come down to drink. A skittish Red Duiker has more nerves than he has thirst and takes no chances, ducking off into the safety of the bush.
We bump into Lodge Something, Del-Marie, and excitedly she points in the direction of the big ellie bull, browsing a short way from the Forest Lodge deck. Pulling down creepers, back legs crossed he seems very relaxed. He moves towards the guest rooms and Ross cannot resist trying to get a bit closer. He leads us down the path to the rooms. The ellie is now just 20m ahead of us. That is probably just 7 or 8 steps for him at a jog. Gulp! Ross takes a photo and the flash lights up. Dusk is settling in. And it could spell trouble for us. For the flash is not unnoticed by the grey giant, who strolls over to investigate. “Don’t move!” Ross’ command is whispered, with a smile that somewhat belies the danger. For now the ellie is browsing on the bush directly in front of us. Three metres away. And not a fishing story “three metres”, a measuring tape three metres. A half an elephant step and a trunk stretched through the bush and he is on us. My heart is in my throat. And I think it’s stopped beating, in case he can hear. We are fairly well covered by the bush, and soon he loses interest, PHEW! and wanders off to go drink from the pool. We recover quickly and sneak up again, on the far side of the pool. Haven eaten and drunk his fill he finally departs.
But then! We spy a whole herd, a breeding herd, of ellies across the grassy plain. About 15 of them seem to be making their way to Vlei Lodge. Checking the wind, ignoring the rangers’ advice of never walking into breeding herds, we duck under the two-strand fence. We get a great view of them next to the pan, between the two lodges. Eighty metres away three big females, trunks up in the air, pick up our lingering scent, or the scent of Ross’ cigarette rather. By then we have moved safely downwind.
It is difficult to know whether it is because they work on Phinda, or because it is part of the Zulu culture, but animals are always a prominent feature or daily conversations along the fencelines. I catch only part of the stories, and miss most of the humour, but the animals are always there. That I hear. The warthogs are back, and with it the joking and laughing about the dangers of warthog. We all shout a mock warning to Inkosinathi lunching under a tree on his own. “Pasopi inthibane!”.
Thembankosi is trying to describe an animal to me, and in Afrikaans. Something about “Skoolpad” he says with a bad Afrikaans accent. I translate to Zulu. Nope, not helping. The next day he finds an old shell of a tortoise, or skilpad.
Pronunciation errors often lead to interesting place names. It took me two weeks to figure out why Mkuze Game Reserve, adjacent to Phinda is called “Passport” by the guys I work with. It is run by what used to be called the (Natal) Parks Board. With a silent K and an Afrikaans D what do you get? Obviously!
Sitting on our stoep, watching the impalas go, suddenly by frantic chattering breaks out in one of the huge trees ahead. Vervet monkeys up to no good again. The chattering is now interspersed with a type of screeching, the two poor Walhberg’s Eagles, nesting in this tree, are defending their eggs from the marauders. The racket continues for some time and in the end we are unsure who the victor is. Perhaps we will see the eagles mating once again.
Friday morning, out at Skelm Gate again. Everyone is tired, and a half day on Sundays is the closest they will get to a weekend off for their 6-week cycle. And then the “ova” pipes up with bad news. Two male giraffe have been fighting, across the fence that separates Phinda from Makhasa Community Reserve. Well, it is chaos. Eleven broken poles, the wire fencing ripped up in 3 places and we now only have 3 hours in the afternoon to fix it all. First we lunch. Thembankosi points to my hat, as I chew down my sandwiches. “Look around.” he says, and then points to the other guys. No-one is wearing their hat. “You will lose your hair if you wear a hat while you eat”. I have been warned. I take off my hat.
The sand is soft, and the holes for the poles are dug swiftly. Some skilful sewing of fencing and soon we are on our way. It’s enough to keep animals from crossing from there to here or here to there. Tomorrow they will start here again, replacing more poles that have been standing (and then rotting) since Phinda’s birth in 1991.
Saturday 28 August My first walking experience in the bush. At 6.30 am five rangers pick us up.Four of them are training for their grade 2 walking qualification. Seth is fully qualified to walk into dangerous game with guests.
Mark is our guide for the day. It’s a walk in which Mark will be assessed on his guiding abilities and his abilities to track and get close to the animals. Each of the trainees has to pass six walks in total to get the qualification. Every walk tracking either elephant or rhino (neushoorn), will become more difficult. Mark is doing his fourth walk today, so Seth will not help him much.
Josh and I are excited; walking in the bush is something totally different from going on a game drive. We drive in direction of Pipeline Pan. This is the place where we saw two rhino and mother lion with her three cubs on our first game drive. Even before we reach Pipeline Pan, I can smell a kill. And indeed, around the Pan we find five carcasses. The smell is terrible, I hold my jersey in front of my mouth and nose.I don’t understand why the male nyala is still coming to drink at this place of danger.
We can’t see any fresh tracks of rhino or elephant here, so we carry on and I don’t mind moving on away from the smelly Pan.
We carry on, chatting to the rangers in the game drive vehicle. We pass two giraffes, ‘indlulamithi’ in Zulu which means ‘past the trees’.
Then Josh spots a hyena. Right next to the vehicle. Josh and I are surprised: the rangers only saw the hyena after we shouted and we were already next to it then. I’m lucky; Josh is my personal excellent ranger. :-)
Mark is looking for tracks, soon we follow the tracks of two rhino; a mother and her calf. We drive around a bit to find the right place to start our walk. Josh spots a male rhino on the road in front of us. It comes into our direction rapidly. We quickly move backwards, but the rhino wanders off into the bush.
We find a good place to start. We get off the vehicle. Two of the trainees make themselves a walking stick in less than five minutes.
Mark professionally gives us guidelines for the walk; checks our conditions, checks our allergies, checks our water and he tells us who to follow. Mark goes up front, followed by his tracker Paolo, followed by me, then Josh and the three other rangers. We are on our way!
The first few meters, I find myself holding my breath all the time. I relax, but feel the adrenaline and the tension from Mark trying to find his two rhino. Mark finds their tracks easily, we follow close in line. Mark shows us the rhino dung, the shape of the tracks in the soft sand and soon I’m looking at every track as well. Than the terrain changes a bit. There are less sand patches to find and so Mark had a hard job trying to follow mother and calf. We stop regularly and give Mark some time to get back on track.
We bump into a road. The road that we saw the male rhino on. I immediately recognize it. It takes a little while until the rangers do. The tracks of the male go further on the road to the right. Other tracks disappear into the forest. Seth and Mark try to find more tracks, we wait. Yes, there we go again: we follow the tracks into the forest and soon find a sandy patch where the two rhino have been sleeping for a while. That’s a good sign; it means that we didn’t get far behind, trying to retrace the tracks.
Some more very warm rhino dung. We walk onto an open sandy patch, suddenly Mark tells us to quickly walk to the thicker bushes. We run. He tells us that he spots mom and calf about sixty meters away.He takes his sock with ash, gives it a swing and the ash shows the direction of the wind perfectly. We try to come closer while we stay downwind. From this position the rhino will never be able to smell us. It is Mark’s goal to give us a close view without the rhino even knowing that we’re there.
We walk around a thick bush and then I can see mother rhino for the first time. She’s still far away. Mark tries to walk closer, but the loose branches and leaves on the ground make it difficult to approach the rhino without them knowing, so we turn around and try another angle.
I step on a leaf. We wait, tensely listening for a reaction. When we are further away from the animals Mark explains that we have to walk in each other’s footsteps in order to make as little sound as we can.
We approach the rhino from a new angle in an area with fewer branches and leaves. I follow the steps of the tracker. It requires high concentration. We get closer, I can see them both now; mom and calf in full view! We sit down. Josh and I glance at each other and smile: what an amazing experience to share together. Mom and calf graze calmly. White rhino eat grass whereas black rhino eat from trees. Mother and calf walk closer to us, still grazing; I think they are only thirty meters away from us. Mark tells us softly where to go when things get out of hand. But we don’t need to act. After a little while just sitting and enjoying, we quietly tiptoe away from the animals (to be honest I tiptoe and the men just walk J).
Wow! Everyone is excited, not just us. The rangers tell us that this was probably one of the best and closest encounters with big game in the last couple of days.
We still have to be aware and quiet but the second half of the walk is clearly much more relaxed. We chat, laugh, look at tracks and dung. Mark askes us five questions to either identify a track or dung. I like this, because this is how you learn quickly. We see tracks of rhino, elephant, genet, porcupine, dung beetle and tok-tokkie beetle. We look closely at the elephant tracks. Marks tells us; you can recognize which way the elephants have been walking by the marks on the track. At the back of the track you will hardly find marks and the shape of the front of the track is a little bit pointy.
We look at nyala dung and Mark answers my question on what the difference between Impala, Kudu and red duiker dung is. A crowned hornbill and a Yellow Bellied Greenbul fly by.
We drive back. Mark obviously relieved. Seth drives fast, they chat, we look around and Josh spots a rock monitor lizard. The car slows down; this lizard is very rare. And we are lucky.
Sunday 29 August Josh and I head of to Sodwana Bay, a very popular area of coastline. We drive out of the reserve and follow a unfamiliar road through the community. We pass beautiful round houses made of clay with thatching reeds for the roof. The laundry swings in the wind as it hangs over the fence.
We stop, put our bags in the boot and give a lift to two local guys. I try to speak Zulu to them, but they answer my Zulu with English. Josh tells me that Zulu people who can speak English often rather practice their English. I can understand, for me it’s obviously the other way around. I’ll get my chances.
We decide to a little detour and visit Muzi Pans, a highly recommended place for birding. I can’t believe my eyes when we take the turn-off from the N2 and drive into a totally different landscape. The Pan is wide; the plants and trees are lush and green. We park our car and walk into the field, between the cows. As we get closer to the water to watch the birds we find fresh hippo (nijlpaard) tracks.
For me it’s paradise. I have never seen the birds that occur here before. A yellow-billed Stork, open-billed Stork, purple Heron, blacksmith Lapwing, black-winged Stilt etc. A Zulu man collects thatching grass.
We carry on. The vegetation changes. We drive into the dunes, huge dunes, the second highest in the world Josh reckons. I can smell the sea close by. I am excited, I’ve never been this high up the coast. Sodwana Bay is magic. The sea is blue and warm, much warmer than the sea at Muizenberg beach close to our home in Cape Town. We eat a delicious home-made Tuna-sandwiches, Josh reads and I look for shells.
A local boy washes his freshly caught fish in the sea.
After a beautiful sunset we make our way home. We drive into the sand forest again and pass Forest Lodge. It’s pitch dark by now. In the distance we see two eyes reflecting. As we slowly drive closer we see it’s a leopard. Leopards are shy and not often seen, so we are very lucky to have this encounter. We follow the leopard for a little while as he marks his territory. I am amazed by the graceful and lithe movements of this big cat.
Monday 30 August It’s early in the morning, Josh has just left for work, and I drink my tea on the veranda. I listen to the many birds that sing their morning songs. The sky is painted with light pastel colours.
I hear branches cracking and I look to my right. Thirty metres from where I am sitting a giraffe is moving about. Wow! I realize that I dreamed about this encounter last night…
The giraffe stares at me for a while and then a second one pops up. It strokes the first giraffe on the neck with his head.
Together they stare at me. I am surprised to see two baby giraffe walking closer to me through the thick bushes. I thought this would happen one day but I am amazed by their entrance to our open field in front of the house. I walk closer, outside the fence, to see them better. I find a little hill to sit on. I see the giraffes eating from the trees. Mom and Dad,I guess,show the baby giraffe the way.
I hear more branches cracking.A fifth giraffe, an adult, makes its entrance onto the open field. One of the giraffes makes a loud sneezing sound, I reckon to warn the new giraffe for my presence. Immediately after the sound the giraffe stops and looks around for any danger. The giraffe warns a few more times, but finally gives up and the fifth giraffe makes its way on the open field, past the place where I sit. He is only ten meters away from me!
Later that morning the monkeys find a way to get into the house. They eat to apples out of the kitchen and when I walk in, they quickly flee into our room. I chase them out and find some nice presents on the floor. I remember Ross’ words: never leave a window or door open when you are not right there!
I make a compost heap, bake bread, clean the kitchen, clean our room and walk around the house with the binoculars around my neck. I spot birds and check them in our bird book. Before I know it, Josh is home again.
We look up a Potato Bake Recipe on the internet and make ourselves a delicious new meal for dinner! It tastes even nicer after a good Karate training session!
Tuesday 31 August.
I walk outside, it’s early in the morning. Hearing the sounds of the birds I can no longer stay inside. I still have my pyjama’s on. I see two birds right in front of the house. Their faces are red, surrounded by a black collar and their body is a kind of beige. I find out in my book that I’ve just seen two black collared Barbets. The colours of the birds here in South Africa are spectacular.
A little later I see an African Hoopoe flying by. I have seen this bird in books when I was young; I never thought I would see him in reality!
Josh finishes early today and I fetch him from work. We leave straight away to go for dinner with Josh’s uncle and aunt, Simon and Jennifer. I am more and more amazed by the variety of the landscapes in the area. Simon is staying at a beautiful lodge, Nkwazi, right on the wide Pongola River.
When we arrive, we drink a beer and Simon takes us on his boat. We need to be quick before the sun sets. I see my first hippo in the wild. Eleven all together. They don’t like us getting too close. We go a bit further and find nine white rhino.
We have a delicious dinner and I get to meet my new family. We hear the sound of the jackal in the distance.
Wednesday 1 September
I fetch Josh, for Ross lets us know we can come on Game Drive with him today.
We meet the guests and start our drive, beginning in the Sand Forest. Ross explains the history behind ancient Sand Forest, once on the bottom of a sea. He shows us the endangered Lebombo Wattle Tree with orchids growing in it: Christmas decoration he jokes…
We drive and chat.. Then suddenly, almost unnoticeably because of their camouflage colours, we are a few metres away from Phinda’s biggest lionesses close to Imagine Dam. The lioness walks past us to the Dam. She is just metres away. Woolly-necked Storks hunt on the shore.
We carry on trying to find the breeding herd of elephant. The tracker spots them and seconds later I see a herd of 15 ellies rapidly rushing through the thicket. They are on their way to the water and we can clearly see their excitement!
A Purple-Crested Turaco and group of Starlings welcome the ellies to the Pan with their lively singing from up in the tree.
Once in the water they splash, amazing to see! A three months year old calf steals the show.
We turn around, away from ellies to make space for other Game Drive vehicles and meet two rhino just ten meters away from us.
During the drink stop we enjoy each other’s company and the dried mango, biltong and cashew nuts.
Thursday 2 September
We drive to Richards Bay at five in the morning to hand in my visa application. I am nervous, for I know how long the queues at the Cape Town home affairs office are. We get there right in time and are the first in line. Fortunately Josh chats to the head of immigration to make sure that we don’t have to fly back to Cape Town to hand in the application. In one and a half hours’ time, everything is sorted. Relieved we celebrate this milestone with a well-deserved brunch.
We visit Advent Hope Christian School on the way back. This is the school I might be working for the coming months. We are welcomed warmly. I am shown around by one of the teachers. I chat to the grade 1 teacher and I get all excited to start my own class 1 in Cape Town. Monday I will come back to the school to observe and see where I can help.
Friday 3 September
The Chinspot Batis sings me good morning with its call: “Three blind mice”. (e, dis, dis)
Ross shows me some more birds around the house; the grey flycatcher fans her tail when she sings.
A female nyala visits me inside the garden fence while I am working.
Saturday 4 september
We leave our house early in the morning in Ross’s car to do some transecting at Zuka, an area of Phinda up in the mountains. Ross is busy assessing the vegetation of the various areas on Phinda.
We find an endangered species of aloe in between the burnt areas.
The morning sky is amazing: the rays of the sun shining through a thick pack of clouds. A giraffe eats its breakfast close by.
I try a yellow monkey apple, but spit it out quickly: it’s still very sour. In a few months’ time the monkey apples will all be yellow with sweet fruits inside. Ross describes the taste as a mixture between mango, papaya, pineapple…
Ross’ car starts to sound funny. We stop and check and find that the fanis loose. We drive back to Forest Lodge to meet the mechanic. We arrive and at the moment we stop the car, the water tank bursts because of the loose fan. Luckily it happened here and not on the challenging roads of Zuka.
We drive behind Ross as he takes his car to the workshop. He hopes to get it fixed today. It willturn out only to be ready five days later.
We drive back from Thabankos’, the workshop, and get a puncture. We put on a new tire but unfortunately this one seems to be flat as well. I am amazed by how quickly help arrives. Soon we are on our way back to the workshop and this time to get our tire fixed.
Sunday 5 September
We make a birdbath in the garden and make a proper braai pit from cement.
Julian the leopard researcher stops by and invites us to come with him in the afternoon. We are keen, this is much better than a game drive even!
Julian tracks the leopard with radio signal and we spend the evening driving through thick bushes where I thought I would never drive with a car ever. His car is a though one.
And it gives us the opportunity to come very close to the leopards. I reckon we are five meters away when we see a young leopard eating from its kill. Mom lying close by, checking us out.
We learn a lot on this drive. We even visit the hyena den again and see a genet running on the road in front of us.
Monday 6 September
When I enter the staff room at Advent Hope Christian School the morning prayer has already started. All the teachers, mainly from Zimbabwe, sit behind their desks, looking through the work in front of them. They sing beautiful songs, in perfect harmony. I’ve got goosebumps. It’s a privilege to be here. They pray together and the principal introduces me to the teachers. He explains that I will work at the school till the end of November. I have not agreed to anything yet, so I add that I will observe first and see how it goes.
During assembly the principal introduces me to the whole school as ‘the teacher who comes to work with us for the coming months’. They are definitely very excited to have me here, that’s for sure.
It’s nice to see how this school operates. I learn a lot and see a lot of their culture reflected in their teaching. All children wear the same green, white and grey uniform with nicely polished shoes. The classes are big. All about 47 children. I would say far too much to give them all the attention they deserve. The English teacher, Beauty, agrees, but what can she do about it?
A lot of the children in the class look very tired. During the lessons I see them eating and reading their books. The teacher does not say a word about it and teaches mainly the front row of children.
Tomorrow, Beauty says, I can teach the Grade Fours English. I agree and look forward to teaching again.
I drive back home. I feel uncomfortable. I realize that I cannot work at this school for the rest of our three months. I’ve got so much else that I must and want to do. It’s been great to see the school and get a little insight into how they work with the children, but I want to concentrate on my future job.
At home Josh notices my worries and I decide that I have to tell the teachers tomorrow that I am not coming anymore. I find it difficult because they are all such warm people, but for me it just doesn’t feel right to work there right now.
Ross gets an sms. Phinda is on 50/50, a South African TV program about wildlife. We drive to the canteen and watch this program with quite a few of the staff. A genet glances up into the canteen from the deck outside. I am happy: now I get a really close look at him.
Tuesday 7 September
Early in the morning I leave home. Before prayer I want to tell the principal and Beauty that I won’t join Advent Hope Christian School for the coming months. After prayer I tell all the colleagues: they are sad but understanding.
It is a relief when I drive home. Advent Hope Christian School is a good school, with warm teachers, but I need to focus on other things right now.
Ross invites us to come to the Bird Hide at Forest Lodge. We see a beautiful Narina Trogan and then have to leave the hide because of the rain. We have to make a proper roof on it soon!
On our walk back to the Lodge, Del-Marie tells us there is a male ellie right next to the Forest Lodge deck. We walk there and indeed, a big bull is eating from the trees close by. He takes huge branches in his trunk and breaks them off with his tusk. What power!
The ellie walks off and Ross, Josh and I follow him. We are close now.
I take a picture and Ross takes one too. His flash is on and the ellie does not really like that. He rushes towards us to check us out. We are only three meters away from him. Ross whispers: ‘don’t move’. I don’t get the message straight away, but Josh tells me quickly. We freeze and I remember the power with which he removed thick branches from the tree…. Luckily there is a bush between us.. After standing there still for a while, the ellie wanders off. We quietly back off, back to the safety of the deck.
Ross tells us that we handled correctly: if we had moved, the ellie could have come for us in a split second.
We follow the ellie towards the pool where he drinks. Soon after that, a breeding herd enters the open patch in front of the pool. Wow, we quickly follow the herd! We hear them pushing over whole trees. We make sure we stay downwind and have an amazing view of a big herd of ellies eating.
Wednesday 8 September
I phone Gaia Waldorf School to hear about the outcome of the interview I had on the 13th of August. I speak to Iman, one of the teachers, who is just looking for my number to phone me. Wow, is this meant to be?! I know it is! I say yes to the offer of taking Class 1 in January.
I am very happy, this feels right!
In the evening Josh and I make a braai in the garden. While we are preparing the boerewors, a giraffe walks into the open area just outside the garden. The closest encounter Josh has ever had with a giraffe on foot. Nightjars start their song and the red sun sinks behind the mountains in the distance.
Thursday 9 September
I sleep in this morning for the first time. A striped kingfisher sits in the tree next to me when I eat my breakfast. I play guitar and sing while the monkeys play in the Albizia tree and on our roof.
When Josh comes home, we see a male and female blue headed lizard.
We head of to fetch Debora, Ross’ girlfriend. I will call her Nomkhosi from now on, this is her Zulu name. She explains what her name means: when you get a nice surprise, that’s Nomkhosi. Almost all the Zulu-people have got an English name as well. I like it much more to use their real names!
We drive to Bayete to catch up properly with Mduduze. We saw him briefly yesterday. Josh knows Mduduze from his time working for Africa Foundation. He used to be the cook but is now managing Bayete.
During the cooking, Josh asks Mduduze and Nomkhosi a lot of questions about Zulu words. A lot of them can’t be found in the dictionary easily. I enjoy the laughter and learn quite a few more words.
There is thunder and lightning. It starts to rain. The first real rain I have experienced here. I try to say in Zulu: ‘it rains hard’. ‘Liyana kakhulu’. I don’t understand why Nomkhosi answers my question with ‘no’/‘cha’. Then she explains: for Phinda this is not hard rain at all. I wonder what the rain will be like in the coming rainy season. Later Ross tells us that it can rain up to 150 mm at once. That is the real rain!
The food is delicious. No wonder because Mduduze used to be the chef. We have a nice chat and Mduduze invites us for Sunday again. We will definitely have more of these evenings together!
