We were nearing the end of our walk along the dry Sweni river when about 300 metres ahead of us, we saw an elephant quenching its thirst from one of those circular man-made cement walled dams. We were so close we could hear the faint grunts it made while dipping its trunk into the dam.
The jumbo was facing away from us, but after probably picking up our scent and the shuffling of feet turned to gaze curiously in our direction. Our capable guides, rangers Chester Moreko and Ronnie Mulhovo had earlier emphasised to our group of five, silence and calmness.
Moreko and Mulhovo, both experienced and passionate, had rifles that could be used in the case of unavoidable danger. But in those precarious moments when the elephant lazily flapped its massive ears while taking a look at us, I began to doubt if we stood any chance if this giant of the African bush decided we were to be sent packing.
Wildlife experts advise that “elephants are usually peaceful animals but females may, however, be aggressive when young calves are present and bulls can be exceptionally aggressive during musth. All elephants may become aggressive when sick, injured or harassed.”
We were moving north-westerly with the elephant right ahead of us, with no knowledge of whether the elephant was sick or injured, but we had no intention of harassing the gentle giant. With Moreko and Mulhovo leading, we diverted slightly eastwards to keep a respectable distance from the elephant.
Her gaze never left our nervous group until we were out of sight, walking down the dry Sweni river bank. But just as we were pausing to catch a breather and discuss our hair-raising encounter with one of Africa’s gods, we saw three other elephants, much smaller in stature just behind us lazily walking towards the dam. We could hear the low growling and rumbling they made to pass on messages to one another, but the meaning of these sounds remain beyond human understanding, so we assumed they were just skinnering about these strange creatures invading their space.
Earlier on our walk we spotted another elephant at just about the same spot, but it was way across the dry Sweni river bed. But Mulhovo warned he had picked up our scent and though he seemed to be walking away from us, was probably planning the next course of action. And with animals, one never knows exactly what’s on their minds. So we moved away in the opposite direction.
Not long after that we stopped to study the fresh spoor of what our guides gleefully announced, was that of a lioness. And it was fresh. A combination of excitement and anxiety engulfed us. A lioness, not far away from us? Along the path, we chanced upon fresh, wet and slimy hyena shit. Animals have a strong sense of smell and use this to detect imminent danger.
Moreko remarked it was good no one had stepped on it because that would get us in trouble with buffalo and lion who are sworn enemies of the hyena. And lo and behold, about a quarter of an hour or so after this encounter, we spotted the spoor of a lone buffalo in the sand. Someone among us remarked nervously that these lone bulls are the most dangerous.
Not something one wanted to hear at that moment, especially since we were surrounded by dense vegetation which made visibility, especially for an untrained eye like mine, very limited. It took me back to one such walk along the N’waswitshaka River some two decades ago. We were a much bigger group.
That morning, our thoughts were lost in the tranquillity of the orchestra of the bush, we were suddenly rattled by an explosive rustling of grass and bush. A massive rhino, which couldn’t have been five metres ahead of us, shot past our group in a flash and disappeared into the bush to our left. Now I was thinking about what would happen to us if the lone buffalo whose spoor we had spotted picked up our scent and decided to charge.
Well, thank god, we only came across the spoor and not the actual animal. Later, after almost an hour of walking in the searing heat of late morning, we stopped in the shade of the dry river bed for a snack and an animated recap of the first leg of our walk.
We were on the Sweni wilderness trail along the Sweni river, just northwest of the Mathikithi rustic camp where we had spent the previous night. Earlier I had read that the trail was “surrounded by open flat thorn tree savannah where large herds of game concentrates at certain times of the year. This in turn attracts large concentrations of predators and the biggest drawcard of the trail experience is to be part of this predator/prey relationship.”
The trail offers an opportunity to learn not only about animal behaviour, but the different types of vegetation, their uses and benefits for both man and animal, including how the fruit from the sausage tree can be used to grow the size of one’s manhood.
The Mathikithi rustic camp lies just below an isolated sandstone hill 6km southwest of Satara, next to the N’wanetsi Creek. The hill was named after Mathikithi Mathevula who in those early years when the park was proclaimed, lived at the nearby Nsemani-N’wanetsi confluence. The name apparently resulted from the fact that Mathevula was given the responsibility to provide people who were removed from the area during the construction of the park, permits or tickets to access the area whenever they came to perform rites.
The hill was first called Mpondo, named after Mpondo Mathevula, a relative of Mathikithi who lived at the foot of the hill. This name later fell into disuse for unknown reasons.
The rustic camp is ideal for weary souls, bones and muscles stretched to the limit by the demands of the rat race out in the dog-eat-dog world. The fact that there is no cell phone reception whatsoever allows one to take in the sights and sounds of the bush without disruption. Cell phones, radios of any kind, generators and private vehicles are not allowed here.
Back in my tent at Mathikithi that night after a braai and animated campfire discussion, I was rattled out of my sleep by the massive, incessant roar of lions. They sounded so close and menacing. Even the canvas tent providing some protection against the chilly night felt inadequate. I can’t think of anything that comes close to the roar of a lion. It is as exhilarating as it is frightening, it humbles you like the roar of the thunder because you can do nothing about it but just sit, listen and shake your head in wonder.
I recalled during our drive to Mathikithi a day earlier when Moreko mentioned they had found lion spoor all over the camp when they moved in on Sunday. The roaring went on intermittently for most of the night. When sleep came and carried my tired bones away to dreamland, I dreamt of a pride of lions circling my tent.
*Lucas Ledwaba was hosted by the SA National Parks as part of Tourism Month. The 19th annual SA National Parks Week will be held from 9 to 13 September 2024 and extended to 14 and 15 September at selected national parks.
https://www.sanparks.org/events/sa-national-parks-week-2024
https://www.sanparks.org/parks/kruger/what-to-do/activities/wilderness-trails
