Jumbo Tales

Elephant stories abound for those of us fortunate enough to live close to the Kruger National Park and other Safari lodges. Videos of vehicles beating undignified retreat in the face of the largest of all land mammals walking in undaunted swagger down the road after them abound. Sometimes we get to see vehicles being trashed which sets off a great buzz on local social media.

There are few Kruger visitors who do not have an anecdote or two, heart-thumping tales of near misses and visions of potential catastrophe predominant the website, and I have my fair share, two of which are recent highlights.

The first was a day last year when my friend Karen and I, who are renowned Kruger addicts, were being driven by her daughter, Simonè. We were on our way out of the Park when we came across a couple of elephants peacefully browsing, one about 2 metres from the edge of the road. He was facing us, a perfect shot, a beautiful head-on elephant framed by verdant leaves.

My camera had hardly left my lap, when I was dramatically jolted forward, almost at the exact moment the elephant seemed to notice us, stopped chewing, and looked at us with what I thought was innocent interest. Simone’s head, however, swung 45 degrees from looking at the elephant out of her window to rigidly facing forwards with military precision and speed while at the same time pressing her right foot flat on the accelerator.

“What the flip!”

“Yoh!” as Karen and I tried to catch up with the moment and bring our heads back into alignment with our necks and shoulders.

“He looked at me with evil intent.”

“He did not, he was quite friendly.”

“Nope,” Simonè was adamant. “He was coming for me.”

“Well, he is now looking at you in great surprise,” said her mother from the back seat, “More surprised even than we are!” at which she and I began to laugh. Uncontrollably.

“I have never been shot forward so fast in my life,” I said between gasps for air. “Can we please go back so I can get the shot?”

”No.”

And that was the end of that. Except for every time I looked at her, mirth bubbled forth at the look on her face and remembering the expression on the ellies’ face.

Fast forward to a month ago and I was with my friend, Sam, and her friend, Tombie, whose birthday we were celebrating with a day in Kruger. Sam took over driving from Phabeni Gate. It was a quietish day in the bush, seeing odd critters here and there so we could engage in much conversation.

Until …

“Oh, look, a baby elephant,” says Sam happily.

“Not sure that’s a baby, teenager possibly.”

“Oh, well it looks small to me – oh, there’s a real baby,” she cooed as the young of the “baby’ shambled along to catch up to is mum, who, judging by the size of her was probably a first-time mother and understandably anxious about her baby. All of which totally escaped my friend, Sam.

She grabbed her cell phone and began recording the scene while manoeuvring the car in the strangest dance across the road, after which she would straighten going forwards towards the two elephants, and park on the left, as is correct in traffic law. Except in this case, the left-hand side of the road was in the path of this young elephant cow and her calf. Eventually, after the third or fourth backward foxtrot move, I suggested that Sam park on the other side of the road and let the animal have right of way.

“But that’s the wrong side of the road.”

“Yes, but this is Kruger, and the elephant has right of way, and there are no cars coming on that side of the road.”

Oh, okay,” she said, moving to the other side of the road and stopping, allowing Tombie and me to drop our shoulders in relief.

Not for long.

Another young elephant, the same size as the mum, bolted out of the bushes right in front of us.

“Should I go past it,” asked Sam, while fiddling with her camera to take more video, agitating about not being able to find the right gear, all while inching forward toward a clearly agitated animal.

“No, just stop, let it go.”

“Turn the engine off,” said Tombi.

“No,” say I, having visions of Sam, who by now had clearly forgotten where drive and reverse were, flooding the engine in her eagerness to get going should things go south, which they looked very much as if they were going to do.

By now the elephant was level with the bonnet of the car, had turned sideways to face us head on, and was doing an Olympic-class leg yield to the right while keeping a beady eye on us. Her tusk brushed over the wing mirror; we could hear the whisper of the pads of her feet as she scuttled past. Sam. still fretting about what to do, getting her phone to work, being told to ‘shh’ by us, then took her foot off the brake causing the car to lurch forward.

“Sam!” we both hissed in anguish, as the elephant did a two-step on the spot.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

By now the animal was level with me in the backseat, so close I could hear her breathing, and if I had stretched out my hand, I could have stroked her trunk. I could see confusion in her eyes as she continued her fancy soft shoe shuffle, gave a gentle trumpet if it could be called that, thought about doing something, thought better of it, turned and scurried after the other two.

A couple of flattened diaphragms relaxed simultaneously, while Sam happily checked her video efforts. The adrenaline rush sorted out any cholesterol issues Tombi or I might have had and created a hiatus in the chatter for a good half an hour.

The joys of Kruger, of being in the bush, especially with zany friends!