Elephants Experiencing Conflict After The Kruger Fire and Wonder If Humans Are Animals Friends Afterall!!
These horrific fires had been caused by humans. Mayafudi came to this conclusion before he began, at first slowly, wobbly, and eventually more firmly, padding in the direction of Skukuza. This time those humans really left the animals in the lurch, he thought with rancour. The rangers and wardens, good friends of nature for whom Ukuthula always had a good word, were also included.
Exactly how these fires began, Mayafudi could not explain, but he could guess and without hesitation he shared his opinions. Carelessness. That was the cause. And to make matters worse, the fire fighting was a complete disaster. Hatred against humans built up in every elephant throat.
There was negligence, he thought – a classic case of too little, too late. Leadership was lacking. Wrong methods were employed. Stupid actions were followed by more clumsiness. Fire burns were instituted without due concern of the direction of the wind.
The journey to Skukuza, barely 10 kilometres, was depressing. Around the dejected elephants lay a pitch black world. Little heaps of grey-white ash. Here and there wisps of smoke were still seen. Or a charred carcass. Along the road, tortoises with burnt shells, plodded on. Hyenas, blackened by soot, but with jaws dripping fresh blood, emerged from the veld. They had plenty to scavenge on. For hundreds of smaller animals there was no pasture.
Around the elephants hundreds of birds fluttered forlorn, searching for their nests which were devoured by the flames. On the road, blue-ish purple blotches remained of the lilac-breasted rollers blinded by smoke that landed under the wheels of vehicles.
Mayafudi was irate and bitter of what the fire had done to the game reserve
Angry because of the destruction around him. He also foresaw the long-term effect which was inevitable. During drought the weak animals died and the strong ones survived. During fires the strong as well as the weak, were victims.
During these dark moments, he was reminded of Mafunyane. Also Nkosikazi – the little princess – and the honourable Ukuthula’s grief the day of the culling. Her own death. The unknown elephant killed by cruel poachers. Moholoholo’s possible watery grave. His own narrow escapes.
Now two of his own offspring had also been sent to eternity. Charred during an inferno which should have been prevented if a new generation of wardens were more experienced, better trained and better prepared. Mayafudi found difficulty in not branding the guilty parties as enemies.
The elephant aristocrat was in a quandary. To condemn outright under those circumstances, was almost a natural reaction. But was it fair? Did not the windmills and boreholes of humans come to the rescue in times of drought. Was it not the Air Force helicopters that eventually doused the large flames with the huge water buckets filled from the Sabie River?
If he was completely honest, he could compile a long list of good deeds which would lend weight to Ukuthula’s slogan: “Remember, people are our friends.”
But the anger which invaded the elephant’s soul would not dissipate. The pain in his broken heart, the pain in his broken feet and the pain in his broken body were just too much. Mayafudi also experienced a brokenness inside, a life threatening fatigue.
He no longer wished to be Ukuthula’s Golden Son. He was tired of any further responsibility or honour. He craved for solitude. The storm must spend itself. The wounds must heal. He wanted space and time to reflect: who were friends and who were not?
He suddenly decided to do something unique. Even though he had reached the top with no one in the herd to challenge him, even if he carried heavy responsibilities within the herd, he would simply let go of everything. He would remain as far as Nkuhlu, the picnic spot in the Sabie valley, between Skukuza and Lower Sabie. There he would consult with Matcheleni and tell her of his decision. He would greet his children that were left. Then the rest of the herd.
“Bayete,” he would say to them. “Go well.” Then he would swerve northwards on a new, undetermined course.