“TAILS” FROM AFRICA

(Part three)

Jubilant and eager to tell his boss the very rare experience of having witnesses a stampede Piri gets in touch with Mat via radio.  Intoxicated with excitement narrates to Mat the past moments.  Not least excited Mat thunders over he waves:  “Fan-tas-tic! Wonderful!  But if you think you are the only ones to have ‘unexpected – joyful’ news to tell…  here we have three bloody lionesses…”  Mat’s fierce language takes hold of him; each coherent word followed by a plethora of expletives.  “These bitches had decided to accommodate themselves and their families, of all places…?  in the dinning room!  Very appropriated, don’t you think?  We too have had stampede… of guests, vacating the bar and recreation areas as magic.  Barricading themselves any which way and anywhere they could find…!  And what do you think the lazy good for nothing, shit of staff we have, have done?  The bastards have taken shelter in the kitchen as well.   And not for all the gold in China, I cannot make them to come out and help me.  So, move your arses and comeback at once!  I need all of you as soon and fast as the jeeps will take you… over and out!”

The radio goes silent, only the static of the waves vibrates the line.

Piri and Mambo exchange looks.  Mambo’s face fills with perspiration, he is visible shaken.  Piri makes contact with the other jeeps.  In silence we head back to base.

On entering the compound we are met with stone silence.  The place is deserted, no one comes to greet us.  We do not know what to think.  We all look at one another, however no one ventures a word.  The four vehicles stop by the reception pavilion.  Piri firmly graves the rifle and orders us not to get off the car,  Mambo’s instruction is to stay put with us.  Thus said, Piri jumps off and runs in.  Mambo’s relief is almost comical as he does not want to appear less brave to confront whatever hidden dangers his colleagues must meet.  While we wait, one of us asks Mambo “is he very frighten of lions”.  Mambo answers “yes”.  He then goes to tell us that years ago, when he was a child, he saw one of his playing friends being taken by lions… now we all sympathise with his apparent fear. 

After a while Piri and the other guides return to tell us that Mat and most of the workers had managed to remove the unwelcome pride of lions off the immediate surrounds of the Park, and at the very moment men and beasts are someplace away from the area.

Inside, we come across some still-in-shock guests, nervously trying to joke off the experience.

Much later Mat reappears with some of the staff on tow.  The workers go back to their respective chores.  Mat comes straight to our table where we are sitting, chatting over refreshments.  Mat pull a wicker chair from nearby and lets his body flop into it.  We can see he is exhausted, full of dust and dried perspiration.  He lacks the strength to ‘click his fingers or call the waiter; not that it’s needed: next instant the barman is by his side, long cool-drink on try.  Mat grunts some sort of ‘thanks’ and drinks thirstily from the ice-cold glass.

I am the first to ask: “Tell us Mat, how on earth did you manage to get rid of the lions?”

“Well it has not been easy, that’s for sure.  You should have seen the commotion…”!  He smiles at the memory.  “...Women screeching like crazy hens, men…trying not to rush!  All in a frenzy to get out…and afraid to do so, or where to go, for they did not know what could be out there!  And the workers…! Thugs, ruffians, worthless shit!  They barricaded themselves in the kitchen and would not come out to help! Not on your life!”  We, his guests were aware of this for we had listened to the radio conversation.  Mat continues. “So, I gave them a choice; to help me or else… this!”  he says pointing at the firearm he still carries.  “They decided their chances were better coming out and help me than a bullet.  So, to make it short; we have had the extremely good luck of finding a dead hippo floating down the river…”

“what an extraordinary coincidence, to find a dead hippo  floating on the river, outside the door; just when you most needed it!”  Someone  in the group interrupts.  Mat looks ‘daggers’ at him and ignoring the remark haughtily continues.  “Thanks to the tractor we have been able to transport the dead carcass few miles from the Park, where the lions and other scavengers are at this moment getting their bellies full.  Would you like to come with me and see it?”  Mat asks me.  “And everyone else who wants to come; jump on the jeeps!”  Mat tells the rest of the group.

Not many want to go and only two jeeps are needed.  Short drive and the vehicles stop not far from the dead hippo.  Three lions are feeding on the carcass’s entrails while four lionesses patiently wait their turn.  From time to time, now and again, when they think the lions are too distracted in their food, some vultures fly down to steal a morsel.

We have left behind the ‘Safari Park’, our dear friends; Mat, Piri and Mambo.  With them we had lived and seen wonderful things, for ever engraved in our minds, -never to be forgotten.

We are entering ‘Tree Tops’.  For the next 24 hours we will live up where birds nest.

I have been allocated a miniature twin-beds-room, all to myself!  How two people could be in the room at the same time, is beyond me.  Of the two beds I choose the one where my head, when I lie upon the bed, will touch the window-sill as headboard.  My overnight bag I throw onto the next bed.  Considering the size of the room, the window is reasonable large.  Timber bars crisscross it to stop monkeys from entering.  Outside, few metres from my window is a man-made lake.  Great powerful lights illuminate the animals as they come to drink and rest awhile.  Beyond the lake, dense jungle.  We have afternoon tea high up on the sunny rooftop.  Birds, large and small, of exotic plumage , come to feed from our hands.

On the other side of the building, not far bellow, the ground is covered by sparse jungle.  This part offers lovely views of wild animals peacefully about.  Gazelle, wildebeest, impala, –always frisky and alert.   Baboons in big family troops ; monkeys of several species, never still for one moment.  Inquisitive creatures.

The sun is slowly sinking into the horizon, its rays of light shining capriciously here and there.  Increasing cool breeze forces some of us to abandon the rooftop and seek refuge down in the lounge bar room, where we can continue to watch and admire the tranquil scene outside via large  picture-windows.

Relaxed atmosphere, lively conversation; everything is agreeable, when of a sudden, outside in the close-at-hand forest, pandemonium breaks loose.  Two cheetahs; not far from our window and very much looking for their supper, have caused the  turmoil.  Baboons and monkeys with babies on their backs, disappear like lighting, they all climb up to the near trees on hand.  Wildebeest in mad gallop, have gone towards the density of the not so distant jungle beyond the lake.  Some of the gazelle and impala are blinding running-jumping in circles not knowing which way to run to.

In the lounge room there is also a stampede:  we all rush to get our cameras!

I burst into my room, regardless of its miniature, in my frantic rush to get the camera, I cannot locate the light switch.  My vision gets in reflections of the light that comes through the window from the lake.  The spectacle outside takes my breath away.  The lake is brightly lit. A herd of elephants, all ages and sizes are outside my window.  Mesmerised I lie on the bed, chin resting on hands, elbows on window-sill.  Cheetahs forgotten.

The elephants are so close that should I extend a hand through the timber lattice, I could touch the nearest ones.  I can hear their breathing; fanning their floppy ears… perhaps they can hear the beats of my heart thumping wild inside my chest… even as I try to control my breathing; absorbing every second and every movement they make.

Three youngsters  ply in the waters of the lake: with their trunks they throw showers of spraying water at each other.  Under my window two more teenagers; trunks interlaced are happily in a tug-of-war contest: their eyes shine with merriment.  A pace away, an adult is busy digging holes in the ground to get the salt and earth and whatever else that the keepers of ‘Tree tops’ treat the ground with.  Two more very young babies seem to be… just watching the others.

One of the youngsters in the lake gets out.  It appears to be in bad mood; maybe it had a quarrel with its friends… definitely in foul temper, goes to one of the two babies and for no apparent reason at all, gives the little fellow a mighty shovel.  The baby reacts… as any baby would!  Lets out of hell of a yell; 

It bellows its head off, as loud as its lungs would let it!  a near-by elephant runs to the baby’s aid and in what appears to be a case of ‘hit first, ask later’, the adult elephant with its trunk gives the offending youngster two big wallops left and right across its face!  (I would like to see what human child-welfare-officers with their no corporal punishment attitude have to say to this very primitive chastisement.)

The punished teenager, ears down, tail between its legs, comes towards the wall of my window.  Chastised, momentarily ostracised by its pears, I distinctly hear it sob.

I say to myself that ‘it is not possible; I must be hallucinating, dreaming with the beauty of the animals of something.’  I pinch myself, rub my eyes… but no, it is not a dream nor a mirage.  There they are: youngsters happily at play, the baby being calmed down by the adults and under the protection of its mother… or nurse, for we are told adult female elephants look after the babies whether they are the mothers or not. 

As I leave the room the naughty youngster’s sobs can still be heard, however the sobs are on the wane.

When I return to the lounge room, calm once more reigns over the forest.  The cheetahs have gone.  Antelopes and monkeys have comeback to their usual place of sleep.  A solitary hyena runs towards the darkness of the not so distant jungle.