I
love animal
stories and the stranger the better, especially if they are related
to people I know, and of course having lived in Africa, most of them
have a twist in the “tail.”
My
son went to pick
up a girl on their first date. He was a little daunted by the
luxurious grounds and the big mansion at the end of the driveway. Two
huge pillars were on either side of the steps leading to the
impressive front door and circling the pillars were very large
concrete flowerpots filled with exotic flowers and foliage. As he
walked up the steps, he heard a noise and turned to see an enormous
Warthog come bounding round the side of the house and heading
straight for him. Now Warthogs are not animals to mess with so from
a standing start my son leapt onto one of the flowerpots and clung to
the pillar. At that moment the door opened, and to my son’s
humiliation, the girl’s father appeared. He burst out laughing
and told my mortified son it was quite safe to come down. He
gingerly did so and the Hog moved in to make friends. From then on
whenever my son visited they had a great time chasing each other
round the grounds. The Warthog’s name was Oitjie (Onions?) and
had been rescued as a very young animal. He was now fully grown, and
a well loved, very large and delightfully ugly part of the family. He
did have a problem though. He was epileptic and had to have daily
medication and could never be released back into the wild. He loved
going in the car and would sit with his head hanging out of the
window which caused much consternation to the passers-by, especially
in the supermarket car park.
The
next tale also
involves a porker. My grandson’s girlfriend had a so-called
“miniature” pig that had grown into an enormous sow
called Matilda. Intruders never bothered the household as she was an
intimidating beast when she rushed to the gate grunting ferociously
like a watch dog. She was welcome to go in and out of the house and
was very gentle and loving to the cat, dog and ducks and chickens but
she did damage the garden with her rooting about. My grandson taught
her to roll over on her back and she would lie there with much
grunting, eyes closed and a smile on her face for as long as he
scratched her stomach.
Time
for a touch of
monkey business in Capetown. My daughter went to the beach to pick
up her husband who had been surfing. She had made and lavishly iced
a cake for her mother-in-law’s birthday and had it safely on
the floor of her open topped car. Suddenly a huge baboon leaped onto
the seat beside her, picked up the cake put it on his lap and started
to eat it. Terrified, she screamed and leaped out of the car almost
as quick as he had got in. When the surfers came to see what the
commotion was about the baboon calmly held onto the plate, jumped out
of the car and headed into the nearby bushes.
My
daughter is an
interior decorator and had another surreal happening when she was
refurbishing a judge’s office situated on the third floor of an
office block. On the day the very large and expensive furniture
arrived they realized it would not fit in the lift, nor could they
get it up the twisted staircase. The only alternative was to haul it
up on the outside of the building. This meant they had to first get
it over the wall of a locked enclosed courtyard. After this anxious
moment the Cape Coloured gentleman in charge assured her the rest
would go well. With her heart in her mouth, she watched from
upstairs as the three men beside her prepared to start hauling and
saw the main man below also being pulled up as he hung onto the
furniture to stop it banging into the wall. She had visions of the
men being overcome by the heavy furniture together with the added
weight of the man and either letting go or being pulled through the
window to the ground below. It didn’t bear thinking about. The
man had risen about ten feet off the ground when suddenly the
enclosure gate flew open and two fully grown lions bounded into the
yard. Oh boy! She realized she was not insured for such an
occurrence. The terrified man dangling below yelled for them to pull
harder and they soon had him out of the lions’ reach. My
daughter was dying a thousand deaths. The man now seemed totally
unconcerned about the lions prowling below as they inched him up the
side of the building. It seemed to take ages to get him to the
window and safety. Apparently, a film crew were going to do an
advertising photo shoot with the lions and had no idea there was a
dangling man in the yard when they released the animals into the
enclosure. All ended well and the furniture was not damaged or
scratched and the judge – blissfully unaware of the exciting
events – was delighted with his new office.
My
next little story
has a happy/sad note. I lived in a very remote part of Kenya and had
to go 2OO miles to Nairobi give birth to my daughter. While I was
away one of our tractor drivers was sent on a mission through the
dense forest and up a rocky track to a place called Equator. A fully
grown leopard jumped out of the bush and fell in front of him. Quick
as a flash the driver pulled out a spanner and killed it. Bringing
it back to the estate he salted the skin and pegged it out to dry.
Now here is the twist in the tale. Instead of removing a small bush
he twisted its tail around it and it dried with a kink. So from
henceforth it was known as a Siamese Leopard. On my return from
hospital I felt very honoured when he presented it to me and my baby
girl. I had this very large and handsome skin on my lounge floor for
years. Unfortunately, when we sailed for South Africa, our luggage
was damaged by sea water and the leopard’s fur fell out. Sadly, because
the skin had been home cured, the Insurance Company
would not buy me another one and so a little bit of history was lost.
Another
leopard
story but with money at the end of the day. We had a policeman friend
living in Songhor, a very hot dry area at the bottom of the Nandi
Hills. He was asked if he could kill a leopard that had been taking
goats from the local farmers. After many frustrating months he shot
it. It was a magnificent young animal with a beautiful coat. He
took the pelt to Nairobi to be cured and then on to one of the many
leather workers who turned the skin, with added leather, into many,
very delicate belts. The design was economical with the fur so he
had dozens of belts to sell in the curio shops in Nairobi and I had
one for years – until I grew out of it!
One
day this same
policeman friend rounded a bend in the road to come across a very fat
python stretched from one side to the other with both ends hidden in
the grass. He was going too fast to put brakes on and avoid running
over the slow moving serpent.
With
a bump- bump,
bump- bump he went over it. The poor thing was not dead and he took
out his revolver and finished off, Once again the skin was cured in
Nairobi and the leather man was given another lucrative job of
turning python skin and leather into many, many, fashionable belts -
and our friend made a small fortune selling them in the tourist shops
in Nairobi. With hindsight I should have kept both of mine for my
daughters and their willowy figures as something like that never goes
out of fashion.
*****
I write for my great
grandchildren but would like to see my stories eitherpublished or
printed for posterity. I am 85, lived the last 20 years in
England but prior to that left UK when I was 2 and lived in Kenya and
South Africa all my life.
I
married young and became a tea planters wife in a totally remote and
uncivilized part of Kenya. I lived in a rain forest with 120
inches+ a year and access was almost non-existent as roads were mere
tracks and full of mud. When I was pregnant the doctor was
miles/hours away in Nairobi and I had only 4 neighbours and
they were all super eccentric and all over 75. This period
was
during the Mau Mau and it was a harrowing time being so isolated.
I
have always been creative and even now I make and sell hand painted
cards.
Wildlife
has always been part of my background – but I have one
regret – despite many visits to game reserves I have never seen
a live leopard in the wild. I have heard them, seen pug marks
and even stood beneath a kill hauled into tree. I have
friends
with amazing stories and even my great grandson at the tender age of
7 has seen more than he can count - plus he has seen a kill,
cubs playing , and really close encounters every time they go
to the many Reserves in South Africa which he loves. I was seconds
away from a kill close to our accommodation the last time I went to a
reserve but a miss is as good as a mile..... and l am now past such
adventures sadly.
I
would dearly love to feel at least one of my stories (and I have many
and varied) won a small recognition and made my family proud that I
am still doing something
productive!
