Zimbabwe's
Hwange
national park is one of the best wildlife sanctuaries in Africa. It
is home to the big 5 and getting a job as a guide in one of the best
lodges there was a dream come true for me. The three months I had
worked there had been nothing but exciting as I also had the chance
to work with some of the best guides in the field. I was going to
enjoy working here. My clients for the next four days would be three
Japanese young men that I had picked up from the small airport about
ten kilometers from the lodge.
They
were so happy
to finally set foot in Africa. As we drove from the airport, they had
made it very clear that the only animal they were interested in
seeing was the lion, especially a large maned one. I had responded
with a smile on my face, assuring them that I would do my best to
find them what they wished to see, even though, inwardly, I was
saying, "They are wild animals in a big national park, finding
them is no easy walk in the park." That night I thought about
the route I was going to take; the watering holes I was going to
visit. I would start with a drive up to the closest watering hole
where I had been lucky with some cats a few days before, look for
lion footprints, and if I found some, our walking safari would begin
there.
5:30
am sharp, I was
done with loading up the cooler box with our refreshments coffee,
tea, and sandwiches for our breakfast and light lunch while on the
Safari. With my 458 magnum in the passenger seat next to me, my
safari hat and sunglasses on the dashboard, I waited for the arrival
of my clients from their rooms. When I glanced at my big game hunting
gun next to me, I wondered if I ever was going to use it one day. I
remembered our manager's answer the previous night to one of the
other clients' questions during dinner and a nerve twitched at the
back of my neck.
"But,
if guides
carry guns on Safaris," the client had said, "why do we
hear of some of them being killed by animals?"
"Well,"
the manager had answered, "imagine being on a safari with a
seemingly very experienced, knowledgeable guide, and within the first
five minutes of your safari, you are staring down at an elephant or
lion or rhino, or leopard that he has just shot and killed. Even if
you know that it was for your protection, it just wouldn't seem
right. So, guides wait until the very last moment, praying that it's
just a mock charge; and if it turns out not to be, it may be too
late. And more often than not, it is the guide who dies coz he is
always positioned between his clients and danger." With a heavy
sigh, the client had nodded in agreement.
My
clients arrived,
said good morning to me before hopping onto the open roof 4x4, and as
I was about to turn on the engine, when Jonas, one of the trainee
guides who had been helping with the preparation of lunch packs in
the kitchen, ran up to us, signaling for me to wait.
"Lesley,"
he said, "I think I heard lions last night by my tent. They
might still be close by."
I
couldn't believe
my ears. I jumped off my seat, told my clients to remain in the car,
and walked with Jonas back to his tent. There were fresh lion
footprints for sure. It could easily have been ten lions. My heart
beating excitedly, I hurried back to the 4x4.
"Guys,"
I
said, " we may as well start our walk here." I
snatched my rifle from the passenger seat and waited for them to
gather their small backpacks and cameras, and together we headed back
to the lions' spoor.
Standing
in front of
them, I gently but firmly reminded them, "Guys, remember our
briefing last night, should we get charged by any dangerous animal,
do not run. Wait for my instructions. Got it?" I looked around
at all three of them and smiled when they all said, "Got it,
Lesley."
We
began our walk,
me in front and them in a single file behind me. After walking for
about five minutes, occasionally pausing to listen carefully for any
noises, I saw a clearing on the ground where the lions seemed to have
laid down for a bit. I crouched down and placed the back of my hand
against the ground. It felt warm, a sign that they had just left. I
looked up at the guys and whispered, "They just left. Keep your
eyes open."
From
that crouched
position, I carefully scanned the area around us, saw nothing, and
rose to my feet. The tall yellow grass all over the area made it
difficult to see anything. Having a better sense of smell and hearing
than us, most wild animals notice us long before we see them, and
more often than not, if they are not territorial, they will move
away, avoiding confrontation, but if they are territorial, the likes
of leopards, black rhino, hippos, and black mamba, your journey to
heaven or hell, may be a very short one. They protect their
territories. Lions have home ranges instead of territories, so
usually, they move away but only for so long, before they get pissed
off.
We
set off again,
this time a lot more slowly than before. We had only done a few
hundred yards when a movement, about three hundred meters ahead of us
by a big acacia bush, caught my eye. I stopped, signaling with my
right hand, for the guys behind me to do the same. I could feel my
fingers tightening around my rifle. A couple of ears appeared above
the grass and suddenly, I knew they were lions. I could count about
five pairs of ears. They were staring at us. Very softly, I said,
"Guys, lions, under that bush." I was pointing at the bush.
The clients started getting their big cameras ready. The loud
clicking noises as they fitted the appropriate lenses was slowly
getting on my nerves and made me nervous, but there was nothing I
could do. They wanted to see lions, and they surely wanted to take
pictures. Then, without warning, a growling female lion shot out of
the bush in a terrifying charge that shook the ground beneath my
feet. In what seemed like a split second, she was standing about
fifteen meters in front of us, her eyes bloodshot and her
white-tipped tail swishing from side to side-a sign that I am very
agitated and still thinking about my next move. The growling did not
stop, and the red eyes did not leave mine for a second.
With
my rifle raised
and aimed at its head, I was thinking fast. Should I pull the
trigger, should I not? Behind me, there was total silence, all I
could hear was my own breathing below the menacing growl and grunts
from the lioness. In almost a whisper, and without turning my head, I
spoke to my clients, "Guys, whatever you do, don't run." I
wasn't expecting any audible response, and I got none. When a lion
stands in front of you, its canines showing in that unholy grin, a
lot of muscles seize to function. The knees turn to jelly, the mouth
goes dry and your neck stiff-the only thing one can do is pray
silently, no muscles are needed there.
We
stared at each
other for what seemed like an eternity before the tail-swishing
slowed down and the growls turned to soft terrifying grunts. She laid
down on her belly. That is when I told myself if we were to move,
this was the time. She seemed a bit calm and composed now. So,
without turning around, I started backing up slowly, whispering to
the guys behind me, "Guys, let's back up slowly." The lion
didn't move, it just stopped grunting and continued to stare at me. I
also noticed that her eyes were no longer as red as they were before.
"Don't get your hopes high yet," I told myself as I
continued to slowly, and quietly back away, my rifle rigid in my
grip. At some point, I thought the lioness looked around me at the
guys behind and turned to look at the other lions over by the bush.
From the corner of my eye, I saw tiny little ears among the big's
ears and understood. There were cubs. This made them more dangerous.
I
think I had put
about fifty yards between me and the lioness when, suddenly, she got
up and walked slowly back to the pride. It was as if the other lions
had just told her to leave the poor guys alone. I waited for her to
reach the pride before I could turn around. As I watched, two large
males got out of the bush and stretched, yawning as they rubbed up
against each other. Assuring myself that we were now safe, I heaved a
sigh of relief, lowered my rifle, and turned around. Cold sweat broke
out all over my body. For a moment I forgot about the lions and
terror gripped me upon realizing that the Japanese had varnished.
When and how I had no idea. It suddenly dawned on me that all along I
had been alone and talking to myself. The lioness must have been
laughing at me, in its mind going like, "Who the hell you
talking to, the boys are gone?"
That's
probably the
look I had seen in its eyes when she looked around me and at the
other lions, probably laughing and mocking me. Shaking my head in
utter disbelief, I started walking back to the lodge. Realizing that
I had been alone against a possible pride of ten lions was more
frightening than the actual charge. Because we hadn't gone more than
two kilometers from the lodge, in about fifteen minutes I was back.
Up until now, I haven't gotten over the fact that the clients hadn't
even alerted the management to what had happened. They were just
sitting by the pool and when they saw me, they jumped to their feet
and approached me, murmuring, "Lesley, are you ok?"
I
was speechless. I
just managed to shrug, before proceeding to my manager's office.
If
the lions had
decided to attack me, and I had tried to fight back, eventually they
would have overpowered me because nobody was coming, no one had been
informed, that alone still sends shivers down my spine.
The
clients spent
the next three days by the lodge, in the swimming pool, bar, and
hummocks reading books or playing cards. No one wanted anything to do
with game viewing anymore. They had seen enough lions.
