The Elephants Yearning and Why We Say This Is The Elephant Country
No mistake about that. When one travels along the S3 which parallels the Sabie to the South, the signs were clear. Trees have been stripped of bark. Thick stumps of trees obstructed the road in places. The whiplash sound of falling trees were often heard, as lone bulls and smaller groups of bulls on their destructive path, uprooted giant trees.
Along the picturesque river trail one could at times catch a glimpse of the end of a trunk, which lashed to right and left. These trunks were often 2 m long – the length of the neck of a giraffe, with a mass of 100 kg or more … the weight of two impalas.
At times the area teemed with elephants. Large and small. Breeding herds purposely obstructed the roads. They playfully glided down the bank towards the river, to splash in the water or to drink their fill. This caused cars to dam up on the high-tide bridge across the Sabie, reminiscent of a Saturday morning at a busy business centre in town. Hoards of people leant over the railings of the bridge. Cameras flashed.
Here, in this place, a stone’s throw from the Kruger Gate with its never ending stream of tourists, taxis, buses and heavy trucks, hardly two kilometres west of the huge granite edifice of Paul Kruger, Mayafudi was born 55 years ago. Here he trotted between the protective front legs of the clucking Ukuthula.
This is the place where he learnt the joys of stuffing his jaws
with the fleshy sweet fruit of the marula tree, and the delicious
small jackalberry seeds. He also learnt to be wary of the river
bushwillow. Eating its seeds could cause a little elephant to hiccup
uncontrollably.
This was the spot where he – a real little scamp – had his juvenile fun. Where he was happy and carefree.
Now, in his old age, those memories were alive. An intense yearning filled him. He had only one dominant wish. To get the 250 kilometres to his birthplace behind him as quickly as his old eroded legs would carry him.
Mayafudi had heard people say that elephants never forget.
Hence the adage: a memory like an elephant. It is true that elephants don't easily forget. Not good done to them, nor wrong. But it is a myth that they never forget. The older he became, the shorter became his memory, he discovered.
Of his youth, along the Sabie, he only remembered snatches. Of what he could recall of those days he could not give full account. In the animal kingdom were no clocks or calendars. An elephant did not keep a diary. The Birth and Growth of the Great Sabie Park and Kruger Park Elephant.
Of one thing, however, his memory was quite clear. He remembered how beautiful the surroundings were. He would have to search widely to find a more beautiful place. This was very clear to him as he stood making plans for his long flight southward.
From the heartland of Ukuthula’s herd in the Sabie River basin, he remembered the panoramic view of the river. A picture revealed itself of a plateau of rocks over which the broad river flowed noisily on its way to Mozambique – of giant trees, trunk against trunk: sycamore figs, buffalo thorn, weeping boer-bean, weeping wattle, Natal mahogany, jackalberry, water pear, mitzeerie and matumi. Trees with music in their names, fighting for space to spread their branches.
Directly opposite Ukuthula’s position across the river was the oasis of the green picnic area of Sabiepark, an exclusive private nature reserve. People fortunate enough to own land in Sabiepark enjoyed watching kudu, waterbuck and bushbuck with powerful binoculars - sometimes elephant, rhino, buffalo, even lion and leopard drinking on the side in the Kruger Park. Blood of Mafunyane | The Big Seven” Of The Game Reserve’s Elephant Population
The animal traffic was immortalized on film. Mayafudi estimated that dozens, even hundreds, of photographs of himself and his descendants over many years were displayed in the homes of Sabiepark and the albums of guests.
The picnic spot was in those days, before the Big Flood, the gateway to the unique river walk of Sabie Park, stretching for a kilometre along the Sabie River, through shady bowers, and lush green avenues in the direction of the bridge on the Sabie. It was here that the Park’s elephants secretly came to sample the sweet grass and reeds.
Mayafudi remembered the adventurous first scouting excursions across the shallow river, his short little trunk convulsively curled around his mother’s tail – and the consternation of hikers who suddenly came upon an elephant coming from the opposite direction.
West of the picnic spot was the fertile Lisbon Estate with its tempting, sweet citrus orchards of which he had many happy memories. But bitter memories too – such as the cruel reality of his mother’s death in her prime. Terrifying Life Escapes Made By The Mayafudi Elephant In The Private Kruger Park
It was a deep wounding reality such as hunters with their rifles were a wounding reality. Sweeping helicopters, medicinal missiles from the sky and the cruel culling of family and friends. Mayafudi had experience of all these tribulations and more.
Whilst day dreaming, the urge became stronger and stronger to once again tread these paths: including the paths of sadness, pain and suffering. The prospect of his dream becoming a reality, gave him the courage to pursue the difficult journey, which at his age would not be child’s play.
Turning back the clock brought calm to his frame of mind. Eventually sleep overtook him. He looked for a strong tree to support him and leaning against it he fell asleep.