Animals Feel Lonely and Isolated After The Fire Destroyed the Sabie Park and Left Nothing to Graze On
Mayafudi was thirsty. This was an intense pining after water, such as he had never known. He could not lower his trunk quickly enough. He drank deep draughts from the Sabie River. He drank to empty the river. A summer-day supply – 300 litres or more – disappeared down his throat in one go.
Then followed a drawn-out shower. His entire feverish body was soaked. Then he lowered his torso into the water. Deeper and even deeper. Picnic-makers at Nkuhlu could eventually only see two little black “snorkels”, the tip of his trunk and of his little tail.
Slowly, purposely, he aimed for the northern bank. The cool water was balming and calming. Mayafudi was in a much better condition when he left the water.
All along the Salitje road, the S30, he now turned in a westerly direction. He was on his way to the great north-south tarred road, the H1. Blood of Mafunyane | The Big Seven” Of The Game Reserve’s Elephant Population
Foremost in his thoughts was the need to care for his wounds and his eyes. He was especially concerned about his burnt feet. If the soft pads were going to dislodge, like those of his two unfortunate friends, it would virtually mean a death sentence. Wardens would not hesitate to administer mercy killing in order to release him from such torture.
When he changed upon the three dead calves amid the flames and smoke, he had a death urge. This morning, however, he felt positive and started looking for medicine from the veld pharmacy. A bushfig he knew, would supply two of the most essential ingredients. Ukuthula had taught him that many years before.
Everything in the Kruger was burnt
The Salitje road was a brown passage through the solid black burnt veld. Apart from the savannah plants and annual grass which would quickly recover after the first rain, large stretches of trees were devastated. Their shrivelled branches were proof that they would not recover.
The first fig tree he came to was burnt. Only its bare branches pointed its ghostly arms to the sky. The branches of the second tree were intact. In order to reach them Mayafudi would have to uproot the tree. For a moment the “code of Ukuthula” flashed through his mind – the code which had been constantly worrying him.
The guilty realisation that he, amid so much destruction around him, would cause even more damage to nature, pricked his conscience. But not for long. The end justified the means, he consoled himself. The tree swayed to and fro. After a few moments a loud crack sounded the end of the tree.
The milky juice of the bushfig is one of nature’s best remedies for burns. The sap of the leaves, like that of the russet bushwillow is are excellent “eye drops”. It would bring relief to Mayafudi’s eyes and remove the irritation caused by the smoke and flames. Painstakingly he treated himself until he felt well enough to continue his journey.
His passage northward was without a definitive destination. But even without basic knowledge of the surroundings, his instinct led him unfailingly. A day later he arrived at the Elephant’s drinking hole. There were no elephants, but a few zebra and waterbuck whose company he did not relish. The Kruger Park Wildfires Spread On The Big Elephant .
One dirty look and a threatening stance were enough to make them retreat very quickly. His body language clearly indicated his irritability. Mayafudi could now bathe his wounds in peace. In the luxury of total isolation he could prepare for the night.
Early the next morning he was back on the road. Almost too soon he reached the next drinking spot, Jones’ Dam, along the S36 dirt road to the picnic spot Nhlanguleni. A lonely crocodile lay basking in the morning sun – much to Mayafudi’s annoyance. He flapped his ears and blew. When the crocodile did not give way quickly enough, he rushed at him, driving him into the water – rather undignified, his conscience accused him. However, by means of aggressive behaviour he could blow off steam.
A route to follow became clear. At any price he wanted the scorched earth behind him. With this in mind he walked from Jones’ Dam all along the S36 as far as the water hole at Manzimhlope. There, for the first time in his life he saw sable antelope, and scattered the graceful antelopes by flinging a stone at them – as he often did when he was still young and mischievous. The Birth and Growth of the Great Sabie Park and Kruger Park Elephant
The next beacon was the large, picturesque Air Force Dam – after a slow journey of 25 km, lasting almost four days. He then followed an elephant hiking trail to reach Nhlanguleni: a natural picnic spot in the middle of nowhere, about 30 kilometres northwest of the popular, much larger, picnic spot Tshokwane.
At every water hole he stopped. He drank and swam to his heart’s content and plastered himself with mud from head to toe. The mud baths, regular water-therapy and the milky juice from the bush fig, together formed a wonder cure. Even for the pads of his feet. The feet were still full of wounds, but the dagger stabs of pain gradually abated and became only a scratchy inconvenience. He stopped fearing for the loss of his footpads.
But tough old Mayafudi recovered remarkably after his hardship. To his amazement he discovered that the voluntary break with his herd seemed to agree with him. The longing after friends and family was intense, but his voluntary banishment allowed him more time to himself. He could organise his own programme and follow his own courses without having to account to the demanding matriarch for all his actions. He also had time to think.
What bothered him, however, were his unusual tantrums. He was selfish in his insistence on absolute privacy, he had to admit to himself. When he suffered from acute pain, he could still rationalise. But his bouts of anger became habitual and changed his personality. He would have to discipline himself. The Elephants Yearning and Why We Say This Is The Elephant Country
For a while things went very well. Mayafudi made the restful spot Nhlanguleni his headquarters. For a change he spied out the vicinity of the Vutomi Dam. He tried very hard not to intimidate other animals, and he was quite successful in this.
He loved to visit the Air Force Dam and Vutomi. Sometimes he visited Tshokwane, where the adjacent Orpen Dam offered an attractive “waterfront”. He then returned via the H1-2 and the Vutomi loop, or along the S34. He usually visited the Mazithi Dam, where he teased the resident hippo until they indignantly blew like locomotives.
This he did not regard as intimidation; only a bit of innocent fun to break the monotony of his solitary existence.