Chasing A Prehistoric Animal

---

Chasing a Prehistoric Animal.

The most passionate, remarkable and interesting man I have ever met is a six foot three chain smoking Zimbabwean who runs after rhinos in a pair of worn out tevas. He was waiting for me at the bottom of the boulders, jeep idling and the only seat available, right next to him. “Take the front seat, I don’t like to be a chauffer,” he instructed with a grin behind a pair of 80’s style gold rimmed brown lens glasses, secured with a chain around his neck. He puffed on a Peter Stuyvesant as he drove us to the national park. “This is my backyard. I grew up and played here, I won’t leave here.” He didn’t have to say despite what is happening. “Ah, you will love the rhinos, beautiful creatures. I’ve been sitting with them for as long as I can remember. It’s something special just being able to sit a few metres from them. Or better yet in amongst them, a friend of mine rang up and said ‘guess what? I just sat amongst fifty buffalos.’ Bastard! He’s always trying to out do me. The white ones aren’t so aggressive, but the black ones, can never get more than a hundred metres of them before they start charging. Once I turned a corner and there was this black rhino, mad angry and he chased me. I ran around the corner straight into a black mamba! He reared up onto his tail, what a day!” He smiled at the memory.
“Well, I have my running shoes on, a green top and brown cargoes, I’ll blend in. They’ll just think I’m a tree.” He laughed and it actually seemed strange because every time he smiled it was like laughter, to have it translated to sound was a little weird.
“What you are wearing is perfect,” he said shifting into gear. “I once sat in with a herd of elephants, it was something! Held my breath, afterwards, couldn’t wait to tell me friend, hey? That’s when he rings me 15min later to tell me about the buffalos.” I had no idea what to expect but I think I’m going to like it.

Stretch explained how the boulders came to be perched precariously on one another, “And it is not because a helicopter put them there.”
“Americans?” He laughed again and nodded. We hopped out of the vehicle for a lesson. “I’m a guide not a chauffer, so ask me questions. I will talk a fair bit, so stop me if I get carried away. There are thirty-four white rhinos here and a handful of black rhinos. It is the largest concentration of rhinos in the world, by that I mean for the size of the national park there are more rhinos here per square kilometre than elsewhere in the world. As you saw by the sign, anyone suspected of poaching will be shot on the spot. But that doesn’t stop them from trying. Over the past month we have caught 25 poachers. One horn from a rhino, on the black market can fetch up to 300, 000 dollars - US. So you can imagine that when you have two or three wives with two or three children each, asking what is for dinner and that they are hungry, 300 000 dollars for a days work is looking attractive.” He was in his element; he didn’t even pause to suck on the Peter Stuyvesant that was burning away in his hand. “Twelve years ago the government sponsored a de-horning project. Often the poachers would just kill the rhino for the horn. Now the horn is like your fingernail, if you clip it, it grows back. So by taking away their horn, we take away the reason for the poachers to kill the rhino. Now the problem is, if you de-horn one rhino, you have to de-horn them all. Rhinos use them not necessarily to fight or kill, but they use it to show aggression to bring the females into heat, we can’t give one an advantage or they will kill the one without the horn. We had trouble with this one rhino; he has it in for me, angry, mad angry. Anyway, the de-horning project didn’t work out, funding, and it just wasn’t feasible. I ask though, what if we actually farmed the horns and flood the black market. The money gained could be put back into the conservation of the rhino. There are some critics that would say we are then perpetuating the trade,” he shrugged at that last comment. He looked down at the burnt ended filter, stubbed it and put it back in his pocket. “Anyway, I’ve rambled on, let’s go find some rhinos. When we see the rhinos and I think its safe for us to get closer, I want you to follow behind me in a single file, crouch down to break the human form when I wave you to. When I stop and sit down, I want you to walk around either side of me and do the same. Now if its not safe, I’ll wave you guys to get back, if its really not safe, I’ll tell you to run,” he paused to make sure we were paying attention. Trust me, we were. “Rhinos don’t see too well, they see in black and white, greys. If you’re wearing white, its stands out like a neon sign. So if you’re running away, run through the trees and up one if you can. Right, let’s go find some rhinos.” He lit another Stuyvesant and jumped back in the jeep. He drove us through hilly terrain, muttering to me. The others couldn’t hear him. “I know there is a mother and her calf here. Samantha. She always comes up to us. We hand raised her and she hasn’t forgotten. She has two calves, 4 and 2? Or 18months, but she always brings them up to us, to show them that we aren’t a threat, ah, something special.” He continues to drive and smoke, till he pulls to a stop. He beckons us to follow. I see that Carl has turned his navy blue Rolling Stones t-shirt inside out so that the white writing isn’t visible. “I’m not taking any chances,” he replied. “Nicole get down, break the human form!” he whispered fiercely.

Puffing on his fifth Stuyvesant, in the crouch position he waves us down, Samantha was grazing with her two calves. “She’s completely relaxed,” he whispered excitedly. “My girls, I knew I would find her!” Stretch sits down with his arms wrapped around his knees watching in absolute awe at Samantha. We sit around him merely two meters away from these prehistoric beasts. It stops your heart for a while, surreal even and when you are within breath smelling distance you realise just how closely related they are to the dinosaur. He signals for us to move on and although we can sit here all day, we leave. “My girl, she is definitely my girl, I haven’t seen her in a while,” he says to me. A few hundred meters later he stops again and we follow single file. A handful of zebras scatter as we approach alarming the rhinos and the 4 young male rhinos shies away. He motions for us to keep following but the zebras kept up with the same ruckus, pushing the rhinos further away. He gives up with a disappointed grunt and shake of the head. “Damn zebras, beautiful animals any other day but they ruin it for us this time,” he chided.

We take a rest stop by the lake and he opens up soft drinks, on the house, for us all. Everyone was penny pinching due to the lack of ATM’s, that and no one wants a bagful of Zim dollars. No one in their right mind would exchange Zim dollars. Stretch puffs away at his Stuyvesant and wanders into the bush to pluck an unripe tomato looking fruit and a stalk with tiny yellow flowers. He comes back and hands me the yellow flowers. “Crush it and then rub it on your hands.” I do as I was told. “It’s a natural mozzie repellent. Much better for you than all that Deet that is in those commercial stuff. Completely natural and it smells much better.” I sniff my yellowed hands and was pleasantly surprised by a mild citrus odour.
“Gives you a jaundiced look though,” I commented and he laughed at me.
“Now this is a poison berry. Cut it up and put it in a salad of someone you don’t like. A few of these, well maybe less and they’ll keel over,” and he hands me the berry. “You can find almost anything you need here. I love plants. Is this your first time in Africa?” His thought processes were a mile a minute.
“No, I was here a year ago for about two months. I went on the southern circle tour with Drifters. Canoed down the Zambezi, amazing amount of hippos there,” I recalled to him.
“I led trips down the Zambezi for a few years, dangerous creatures those hippos. Part of my practical exam, I had to shoot a buffalo and elephant on foot. You know there are some guys that talk the talk, but you have to be able to walk it, you know,” he continues to puff away on his cigarette. “Once I was chased by a black rhino, even if you hand raise them, you can never get rid of their aggression. Anyway I was leading a small group, I mean this group is too big to track black rhinos, can’t take care of all of you. We run into this black rhino and it was an open field. No cover, I was shitting myself. So we ran when he charged - ran about a hundred metres and then believe it or not he stops and there was a white rhino there as well. What a picture that made, a white and a black rhino in the same photo. You know how rare that is? It was something special, best moment.”
“All I’ve been chased by is a Sable,” I said half-heartedly.
“A sable? Do you know how dangerous they are?” he exclaimed at me.
“I do now, he was a little psycho.” I told him about the Cheetah project and the sable darting fiasco.

When he stops again, it was for an eight-legged friend. “Golden Orb spider, wow! Look at its web, stunning. You don’t see these often,” he marvelled. Between two short saplings a glistening golden web was in the process of being spun by a bulbous black and white spider whose legs had two yellow racing like strips across them. The colour of the web was something you would imagine out of a fairy tale - golden thread spun from Rumplestiltskein’s wheel. Seeing this arachnid is something entirely unique to this day. I am sure many others have sat with the rhinos, Stretch has been doing this for over twenty years, but not everyone has seen this amazing little creature. Well, little isn’t quite the word, its body was the size of a golf ball.

I point out a hippo half submerged across a waterhole. He stops for us to take a look and picks up a plant. “Bush tea - it’s a hallucinogen. Any Americans? For you guys, it’s illegal for you to take this back to your country. In any form. It tastes absolutely vile but the Bushmen still drink it.” Albert swipes a branch. Stretch points out another one and starts clicking. “The bush men have nine core clicks and they build on it. The names reflect the sounds they make, for instance this bush can be ground up and kill a man. It is used by the Bushmen on the ends of their darts to kill animals for food. So the name is ‘click’ the sound of the arrow being pulled back, ‘click’ the sound of the arrow flying through the air, ‘click’ the sound of the arrow hitting the animal and ‘click’ the sound of the animal stumbling to the ground. Try saying that when you’re drunk,” he says to nine very dumbfounded city folks.

“Giraffes, they sleep standing up or so they say. It’s because of the amount of pressure it takes to push the blood up their necks to their brains. It’s like a fire hose. If they put their heads down below their hearts for too long, it would probably explode ten feet into the air. But what’s fascinating is that they have this network of capillaries, like a sponge at the base of their skull that actually absorb the pressure of the blood being pumped up,” puff puff, exhale. “I once saw a giraffe sleep with his head propped up between the branches of a tree that was shaped like a Y. It was brilliant,” puff, puff, stub and fumbles for another one.

He drives on and looks at his watch. “I know we’re running late, but I need to show you guys a bull. A real rhino, they’re unbelievable. A big male bull. Hhhmmm. There is one last spot I want to try.” He swings around and takes us to a grassless clearing of trees. Stretch beckons us to follow him, waves us to start crouching and there in front of us was Gumboots. Introducing Gumboots, 48 years old with a 12 year old horn thanks to the de-horning program, he has big feet hence the name and if he was a few years younger we would be clambering up a tree. He opens up a sleepy eye to see ten bipeds sitting down staring at him, cameras ready. Can you imagine if you woke up to see ten rhinos staring at you? I don’t think you would carry on sleeping and neither did Gumboots. He stood up in a huff and pawed at the ground a few times, walked in a circle, stood and stared at us again before ambling away with three Oxpeckers riding his back from his resting spot. “Well, let’s not harass an old gentleman while he sleeps. He is not happy that we disturbed him and I don’t want to pursue an old gentleman from his nap, you wouldn’t be happy if someone woke you up from your afternoon nap either,” he said and with that we said goodbye to Gumboots. Stretch was satisfied. Satisfied that he managed to find Gumboots for us. Every time we walked and found nothing, he apologised profusely. This is not a vocation for him, it is his air, he lives for tracking rhinos and he wants everyone to experience the same rush he gets when the grey beasts allow you to sit with them. But we had to go.

First we had to sign out of the national park. The curios were a bit sparse and a few locals were sitting under a tree carving more rhinos. The locals know Stretch, everyone knows Stretch. He gives them some cigarettes and does some currency exchange with them. Stretch is the go-to guy, anything you need or want to know, this man will know it. “Derick’s not going to be happy, we are really late,” he tells me as starts up the jeep. “I’m taking the other group that’s staying with you guys this afternoon, what are they like? I hear they are old?”
“They have a wicked sense of humour, maybe not as spry as they once were, but they will give it a go,” I opined.
“That’s all I ask. Look at that, that’s a candelabra tree. Black Rhinos love them, mad for them. Unfortunately it’s what makes them crazy angry as well. It has a chemical in it which they use in most cancer drugs.” Puff, puff, “We are going to be late, I’ll probably be late home as well and my wife will wonder where I am, she’s going to call and tell me off…”
“Are you out playing with the rhinos again?” I finished for him. He laughs loudly, “Exactly! Who was your guide for Hwange?
“Brett.”
“Brett? Really?”
“His brother was sick, so he filled in.”
“He’s a sweet guy,” he replies with a smile that hid laughter and something more.
“He is. Nice. Um, but a little old school, if you know what I mean,” I said honestly. “I mean, he doesn’t exactly run after the animals or actively seeks them out. He’s still of the ‘lets sit by the waterhole for hours and let them come to us’ school of thought. Which is… nice, just like … well, it was nice. Watching paint dry, but nice,” I said.
“Yep, that’s it,” agreed Stretch as he expertly turns off the engine and slides down the hill in neutral as to not alarm a kudu doe that was by the road. That is how it is done. This Peter Stuyvesant puffing man has an amazing passion for these animals and what I like most of all is that he isn’t standing on a soap box. True to his word he wanted to educate, to share knowledge and thoughts. He never once told us what he thought we should do, he just wanted to share his passion with us. So far in my travels he is the unexpected surprise that has left me awestruck. I had no preconceived notion what today would be like and that made it even more memorable. If I had left for home having done nothing more than have this day running after rhinos and listening to Stretch talk, then I would be entirely satisfied. There are many ifs and if I hadn’t woken up early to set up breakfast and return the keys to Derick, I would not be the one sitting next to him in the jeep and having the privilege of listening to him talk to me all day about his life with Rhinos and living in Zimbabwe. If I wasn’t sitting next to him, you would be reading an entirely different day. I didn’t want to say goodbye to Ian, but all things come to an end. Unless I return, waive away my life and go tracking Black Rhinos with him. Now there’s a thought, I’ll put it down next to riding with the Mongolian Warriors.

*

Final Breakdown, Final Border Crossing, Final Night in a tent.

“We are going to be really late. We’ll be lucky to get to the campsite before dark. You’ll be putting tents up in the dark if the border is busy,” Derick said as he concentrated on manoeuvring the truck over the tiny bridge. I sucked in my breath and thought skinny thoughts as the truck barely makes it over without toppling off the edge. “I don’t think anyone cares, we had such an amazing day, that nothing is going to spoil it,” I reported. Everyone was on a high, nothing was going to bring it down. The clouds opened up and dumped fat droplets on us, when in the middle of it all we heard a bang. Derick and I looked at each other and then turned to look at the others. They had popped their heads out to look at us down the aisle. If they heard it, something was definitely not right. Derick pulls over and gets out, I open my door the same time as the rest lowers the ladder. The passenger side tyre had blown. Nicole looks at me with mock incrimination. “I think I need to go on a diet,” I sigh. No matter, in the rain every man/boy pitched in to change the tyre. An hour later we were back on the road. “We are going to be really late now. We may have to go to an alternative campsite, we won’t make it to Machete till like midnight. I know some campsites near the border.”

Crossing from Zimbabwe into South Africa is a pillow-bag full-of-bricks-swing-to-the-head experience, especially on a Sunday when the entire able body population of Zimbabwe trickle into South Africa for work. Coaches, utes, limping sedans full of Zimbabweans were swarming around the huge building in the freezing wind. The line was out the door and in amongst the assorted vehicles. Far from orderly, once past the door it was a free for all. The immigration lady behind the barred counter was stamping randomly at passports in a ‘just piss-off’ kind of way. They had run out of departing forms hours ago. Leakage from the toilets was spreading across the exit way and we were racing back towards the truck in no time. At the gates, the agriculture inspector climbs on board and starts combing through our things to make sure we are not bringing any contraband from Zimbabwe back into South Africa, like food. He looks at our freezer and cooler and asks if we have anything from Zimbabwe in there. “No,” we all chorused and he moves to the back with his hands clasped together. He looks into the boys’ sneakers and finding nothing, moves on slowly. Derick rolls the truck forward, “AAYYEE, I am still here!” he cries.
“Oops, sorry, thought you left,” Derick says in mock surprise. The rotund man exits with a bit more haste now for fear we ditch him somewhere in the Limpopo.
Once in South Africa, things are very much different. Our passports are scanned by computers, double checked and each of us are counted to make sure we are not smuggling Zimbabweans. Security officers stand there making sure no one jumps queue and the toilet, wholly containing all waste products. It was a well oiled machine. Till we get bottlenecked in traffic at the bridge over the Limpopo river. What is it with people who just stop in the middle of the road? Eventually we squeeze through and suddenly there are convenience stores, petrol stations with actual fuel, fences that surround viable land and wide smooth roads with streetlights. No one is walking along the road with wheelbarrows full of withered maize and signs advertising the new Limpopo National Park comes into view detailing all of its services. Zimbabwe is left behind with hope as cracked as their pavements.

Last night in a tent in a random campsite reminded me of the first night. Lesson learnt, I was pegged down to the nines and fell asleep to the flapping of tents. Exhausted and satisfied, it is nice to be back in South Africa for the… how many times now?

---

Photos

Samantha & her Brood
crouching, puffing on a cigerette, he brought us up close to some rhinos

Spotted, Samantha & Kids
Samantha, her 4yo boy and 2year old... girl?

Happy Days
No zoom required, sitting with the rhinos

Relaxed
She knew Stretch would not be a threat to her kids

Newest Addition
A little camera shy

Prehistoric Relative
This close, they look like dinosaur cousins

Poachers Warning
...Eeep! But it doesn't stop people from trying

Mother & Child
Look carefully & see if you can see it

Designated Spot
Rest stop for a drink and my own private biology lesson

Golden Orb Spider
Small Wonders

Stretch's Giraffes
'If they put down their heads for too long, the pressure builds and their heads will explode..' he has a way with words

Gumboots
he woke up to see 9 bipeds sitting staring at him... (imagine if that was a 48 yr old horn)

Gumboots & Friends
annoyed - he took his oxpeckers & left

Boulder Formations
A helicopter did not lift the boulders up there... Americans...

Running Nyla Doe
Anyone else would have missed that...

Exploding Tyre
My curse with vehicles prevails

Winter sets in
Winter in south africa - keep the neck warm & you'll be right.