Blood of Mafunyane | The Big Seven” Of The Game Reserve’s Elephant Population
The initial disappointment of his mother and others concerning his ordinary appearance when Mayafudi was born, was not too difficult to understand. Everyone expected him to be a duplicate of his famous forebears.
The legendary tusker Mafunyane (The Angry One) was his grandfather on his mother’s side. In the eighties of the previous centuries, the old Angry One, on account of his breathtaking tusks, massive neck and enigmatic hole in his forehead (possibly a wound caused by a poacher’s rifle) reached icon-status among man and beast.
The old stud bull himself was strangely, in elephant terms, not particularly large. But those tusks: like two symmetrical ivory pillars they reached from his head to the ground – both exactly 251 cm long and 55 kg in mass. The points of the tusks were honed to razor edge by the soil and stones, over the years. The massive neck and regal, erect posture were naturally developed. The owner had to carry his head higher than usual in order not to plough furrows in the ground as he walked. Terrifying Life Escapes Made By The Mayafudi Elephant In The Private Kruger Park
Mafunyane was number one of the famous “Big Seven” of the game reserve’s elephant population. His name lives on in the elephant hall of the rest camp Letaba and in the naming of a waterhole near Bububu (pronounced Booboo) in the northwest, not far from the rest camp Shingwedzi. This was were Mafunyane lived as a hermit for a long time.
Mafunyane was a shy, unsociable beast. He avoided motorcars and humans. Only a few were fortunate enough to see him. Every time they did, they gasped for breath. Tales about the formidable bull and how he brooked no nonsense, were immortalised in elephant folklore.
One of the champion storytellers among the Sabie elephants was Mayafudi’s sire, Mohololo (The Large one).
Mohololo could also boast a solid elephant pedigree, and as such deserved a live wire like his dame. However, he never aspired to be the dominant bull of the herd. But his reputation as raconteur stretched much wider than his own herd. Other, smaller herds, and bachelors who joined them from time to time, were all ears when Mohololo started his story-telling.
Afterwards, the news spread that a champion storyteller with a bag full of elephant anecdotes lived along the Sabie River.
Of one of his sire’s stories, Mayafudi could never get enough. It concerned his grandfather Mafunyane and the resultant tumult when this magnificent beast had to receive a radio collar, ostensibly to prevent the valuable load of ivory from falling into the hands of poachers from Mozambique. For this operation a muscle relaxant scoline dart had to be fired from a helicopter. Strange But Wise! An Elephants's Wisdom To A Young Elephant About Kruger National Park's Elephant Culture
Mohololo held his audience spellbound as he spoke of that red letter day in the annals of the Game Park. A large number of senior park officials and managers, armed with cameras and reels of film, advanced – even from Pretoria. And a spectacle it really became – with quite a few turns nobody could anticipate. All because of the famous exceptional tusks.
D-day dawned on an early winter morning. Mafunyane was grazing peacefully east of a fire break in the northwest of the Kruger Park. Firstly a scouting plane circled a few times and then a helicopter dived down like a falcon. Inside the helicopter a nervous ranger took careful aim.
When the missile hit him, the magnificent animal stood petrified. Suddenly, in a cloud of dust he fell down on his right hand side. The ground team closed in quickly. They measured his tusks and made plaster casts. Then a radio transmitter was attached. They took further measurements of his body. His teeth were examined to calculate his age, and the hole in his head was carefully scanned. Everyone had the opportunity of photographing the giant from all angles.
So far, so good. All plans worked beautifully. Humans were still firmly in control.
When the team had finished, an intravenous substance was injected to wake the old beast from a deep sleep. Mafunyane awoke and flapped one large ear forward, a sure sign that he wanted to stand up. From that moment onward things went awry.
When he tried to rise “drunkenly”, his tusks were in his way. They were by far too long and too heavy. He could not lift his head high enough in order to turn his chest and legs under him.
The elephant rose halfway and fell back in a cloud of dust … a second and third time. The confused ground team tried to help. They pushed against his head and shoulder to restore the balance, but to no avail. Marvellous Spirit Of Youth And Wilful Mood Initiated By Mayafudi The Elephant To Kruger National Park Tourists.
Mafunyane’s efforts became weaker and weaker, until his massive head sagged to the ground – almost as if his courage had filled his large feet with lumps of lead. Even stimulants and other medicine were ineffective. A horde of vultures circled in the blue sky – not exactly a hopeful sign. The Park team tried everything and panic set in. The very thought that the beautiful beast could die on account of their clumsy efforts to save him, became unbearable.
Litres and litres of water from a large number of watering cans were poured on his body, head and ears to keep him cool. Then someone thought of mechanical help. A front-end loader was rushed from Shingwedzi.
At first a heap of sand was pushed against his back in order to prevent his body form swaying too far when he tried to rise. Then his head was covered by a piece of green canvas to keep dust out of his face. The front-end loader strained on all cylinders. Black diesel smoke polluted the air. Then Mafunyane – who had a brief respite – lifted himself slowly against the heap of sand. The battle was won – halfway.
The next step was to tie a mopane tree trunk and a few plants to the scoop of the yellow machine. This was done to protect the valuable load from injury. When the elephant tried rising again, the frond-end loader gently assisted from underneath.
In a cloud of dust Mafunyane gained his stance. By that time, true to his name, he was extremely irritable. First of all the front-end loader had to be punished. The elephant rushed the engine with such force that the front wheels whipped up in the air. The driver flew from his seat. He was draped inelegantly across the steering wheel.
The next victim of Mafunyane’s ire was the green canvas. It was punched full of holes and trodden into the ground. Who Would Dare Challenge An Elephant? Who Would remain Defiant When An Elephant Charged?
Then he tackled the “nursing team”. He trumpetted stentoriously, lowered his ears and rushed at them. Khaki uniforms dispersed in all directions. The helicopter rushed to the rescue. The pilot twisted and turned his craft in order to hopefully confuse the ‘enemy” – a manoeuvre which raised even more dust and increased the deafening noise.
Individual members of the Sanparks contingent dived behind a large ant-hill. Others spread with pumping arms in the direction of the vehicles. Two of them rushed like madmen into the bushes. Then Mafunyane rushed at a third group. The helicopter hastily intervened to save them.
Only when that deus ex machina, amid unearthly noise and a thundering propeller, dived low the elephant decided to call it a day. His dignity had been restored. Satisfied, he veered away from all the activity.
Thus the greatest show of anger had suddenly come to an end. The fleeing rangers did not realise this. They kept on as if their lives depended on the speed of their flight. Deeper and deeper into the bushes. When eventually they stopped, out of breath, and realised their folly, they really felt like fools. Why Young Kruger National Park Elephants Moved From The Kruger Park To Pilanesberg Nature Reserve.
But an irate Mafunyane was nobody’s plaything. This message was well and truly brought home to mere humans. Those who fled in total disarray as well as those who could enjoy the spectacle from the safety of their vehicles.
“Hooray for Mafunyane” was what Mayafudi wanted to shout at that stage. “Tit for tat”, he thought. An elephant of Mafunyane's calibre was nobody’s fool.
The Mafunyane story did not have a happy ending. Only six months later, the sad news was borne from far north to deep south, by means of a secret code among elephant messengers: Mafunyane, prince of ivory-bearers, had died. The message kept gnawing on Mayafudi. He could no suppress the thought that the hours of struggle to get the tusker on his feet, could have contributed towards his death.