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Prose

This entry won second place in the "Prose Category"

pro22:The Journey of Sisters

by Santi Geere

My story starts at Nkumbe. It was there where the vastness of an African plane set my soul free to fly and soar in the infinite blue sky. It was there that I heard silence for the first time in my life and it was there that I finally lost my heart to the place called Kruger.

A warm summer’s day brought lazy breezes to the rocky outlook where I sat, below me, on the savannah, a herd of Zebra grazed. A giant plated lizard slinked over a rock and disappeared out of sight. Perhaps in this moment, my heart came to know stillness as my being drifted away to the yellow and green palette of a boundless painting. As my eyes followed the horizon, dotted with tiny specks of rocky outcrops to the south, my mind wandered back to that first day I entered Kruger and how my life was changed by a burning passion that encompassed everything I had known before.

It was the end of summer. Our journey started at mid-morning and we meandered through the mountains to our destination. At Hazyview we stopped and started to haggle with the fruit vendors. This was the start of my initiation, it was the stuff that we do when we know it’s important to pass on to our children and grandchildren, as the process was a vital and important tradition in our life. The haggling was concluded successfully and armed with a tray of fresh papaya, avocados, bananas and nuts, we got back into the car.

Soon enough we stopped on the bridge at Kruger gate and stretched our legs. The African Fish Eagle called and my travel companion turned to me, her eyes glittering with joyous tears. “I am home”, she whispered and then she put her arm around my shoulder, hugged me and said; “Welcome to my heaven on earth little sister, may you be as happy here as I am.” I looked at the gurgling Sabie river and an incredible tranquillity entered my city weary soul.

As I entered the cool ablutions at the gate, the fragrance of soap and thatched roof drifted to my nose. It is a smell that would hold a unique memory forever for me, and one that I will treasure as the first association of being “home” whenever I enter Kruger.

Officially in the Park, I received my first lessons. Open the windows to listen to the sounds of the bush, switch off the radio, binoculars and cameras out and field guides within reach to quickly identify birds, plants or wildlife. And of course, drive slowly and look carefully at trees, thickets and in general. My first sighting I experienced with great joy, was that of a herd of Impala, and we stopped for a while until I was gently told that we will still see many, many more of them. I looked in disbelieve, not wanting to let go of my first finding so soon.

Our next stop was at Skukuza. I need to comment at this point that this was not my first time in Kruger or Skukuza for that matter, but this trip was different. It was a journey of two sisters, one that had to receive wisdom and one that had waited patiently for many years to share her wisdom.

We had our late afternoon coffee on a bench underneath the huge Sycamore.fig trees and were accompanied by the clicking sounds of African green pigeons and the kok-kok-kok calls of Purplecrested louries. In front of us, the reeds were turning into coppery assegaais as the sun had trekked to its last moments before disappearing in the west. We sat in silence, listening to the intense chatter of birds making ready for night time. The atmosphere in the camp started to change, the day sounds started to fade away, the air mingled with smoke from fires and the earth released a fragranced sigh of muddy soil and crushed grass. From underneath the thatch at the shop, the Fruit bats started to make their “ping” sounds. Dusk washed over us, it saturated our souls. We turned into the African rhythm that started as a whisper along with the crickets in the riverbed…

Somewhere in the dark hours of night I woke. I sat listening and my skin was covered with goose-bumps. I reached over and shook my sister gently. “Listen” I said. First it was the whooping of a hyena and then the far away roaring of lions. Deep inside of me, I recognised something answering to the calls, a long forgotten primal memory, not sure really, but it was a powerful experience. When my eyes met my sister’s, there was knowing in them, and with a little smile, she resigned to sleeping again. I lay awake for a long time, listening to the sounds of nocturnal animals and drifted away to peaceful sleep somewhere in the late hours of the morning.

It was still dark when my sister roused me. Even if I had a few hours of sleep, I was so excited that I jumped out of bed and started to ready for our new journey. We left camp just before the break of day. Heading toward the H1-2, we slowly crossed the low water bridge over the Sabie river. A couple of hippo’s were wallowing in the deeper pools of the river, and on the rocky islands, a whole congregation of solemn looking Marabou storks were sunning themselves in the first golden rays of daybreak. A Hamerkop stood on the side of a small stream, watching it intently – it almost looked like a prop – unmoving and unblinking, until it flashed to life and had the silver body of a fish clenched in its beak. The sandy patches in the river was covered in all kinds of tracks – enough to keep one busy identifying it for quite some time. Our eager eyes scanned the river and we spoke in hushed, yet excited tones, as if we didn’t want to disturb anything. The sun fell onto the horizon like a yolk from an eggshell. “I haven’t seen the sunrise for a very long time” I remarked to my sister. She turned her gaze and looked at me with that little smile of hers again, “well, it certainly is giving you a lot of pleasure, as I haven’t seen your eyes sparkle like that for a long time too…”

We crossed the Sand river bridge and watched the veld turn into shades of gold all around us. In the road, a family of baboons were going through their waking-up ritual. The older ones lethargic like old rheumatoid cronies, sitting like salt pillars on sunny spots. Then the younger ones, lying about as if they were suffering of babelaas, every so now and then, batting a lazy eyelid to confirm their live status. But, the children and babies were the complete clowns and delightfully charged with enough energy to make up for the whole group. We watched the all too human interactions and laughed loudly at moms trying to keep their dignity in tact as they were ruffled by their boisterous youngsters.

We turned onto the H12 and with keen eyes searched thickets and likely trees. In the quiet morning, we heard the calls of a Ground Hornbill, which I had mistaken for a lion’s roaring. We searched and I saw a burnt log which somehow had moved a bit…A closer look revealed a mating pair of lions! We couldn’t believe what we saw! Little did we know that the two lions we saw that morning would become part of a 27 lion sighting count for that day!

We travelled over the Sabie river once more, but this time on the high water bridge. My sister showed me the skeletons of giant trees that were uprooted during the floods in 2000. I looked at the gentle gurgling river and could not imagine that it could be become so angry and potent.

Our next stop was Nkuhlu. It was here where I realized the value of taking time to be at peace with what the moment presents. The simplicity of having a cup of tea whilst life is happening around you in the way it should happen. The process of carrying your tea basket to a chosen spot, taking out the cups, biscuits and rusks and pouring the tea was one my initiation processes. It was one of several small things my sister taught me to enjoy fully – the gentle art of things we do when time is no longer of consequence. Thus, steaming tea in hand, our cheeks were kissed by sunbeams dappling through the leaves of beautiful riverine trees. Natal Mahogany, Sycamore fig and Nyala tree. The river in front of us a silver blue ribbon, reflecting an intense summer sky. A Grey Heron stood silently on a sandy island whilst weavers chattered away in a thicket of reeds. Above us the Glossy Starlings were gossiping in their sweetest voices and the Yellowbilled Hornbills were trying their utmost to spy on our eats and possible quick grabs. The moment became timeless, two sisters having their morning tea beside a river, watching Waterbuck ambling past a lazy crocodile…

It was also here where my sister told me of the ancient times…” There was a time when Mother Earth created Africa, the continent of life. She silently chose places of sanctuary and secretly placed seeds of all kinds in fertile ground. She commanded animals to gather and make the sanctuaries their home. In her wisdom, Mother Earth knew that time would bring forth custodians for her chosen places and that the seeds would grow to beautiful trees. That the animals would find refuge in their shade from the hot African sun and the birds would thrive in their branches.” I looked again at the large Natal Mahogany – this time with renewed respect. “The custodians, I asked, who are they?” My sister replied, “Custodians of nature are people who love and deeply care about life, not just for animals and plants, but also for human interaction in whatever form to sustain and protect our heritage.” Oh, how I loved this story and knew that Mother Earth’s grand plan has worked and is still expanding!

Our expedition headed for Lower Sabie, and a stop at Sunset Dam. It was the next countdown of lions – five in total, trying to win back an Impala from a monstrous and very hungry crocodile. I was also introduced to invasive aliens, namely the water hyacinth and the damage it causes by literally suffocating water eco-systems. Although I realised the impact of this plant, it provided for much entertainment when the hippo’s came up for air and they had leafy “hats”.

It was nearing lunchtime. We travelled from Lower Sabie to Mlondozi Dam. My second lesson in bush etiquette at a picnic site with one of best views in the world. It was such an honour to be taught in the manners of a world that passes us by in the rush of everyday living. A carefully laid table with silver cutlery, fresh fruit and bacon and eggs. All of this, whilst we are sipping our juice and looking at a herd of elephants swimming across the Mlondozi dam amidst the objective grunts and snorts of the resident hippo’s.

It was very warm by now, and with lazy bodies, we return to Skukuza. We decided to rest a little bit before our planned night drive. We emerge from our bungalow as the day starts to cool down and board the game drive vehicle. We drive into the night, into the mysterious darkness filled with sounds of hunters and the hunted. We become alert, our senses more acute. Our eyes prey into the darkness, we look for eyes and dark shadows. Our first encounter a loping pair of hyena, soon after that, an almost ghostly herd of two hundred buffalo, disappearing into the night like phantoms. As we sit in the darkness, we listen to the Scops Owl’s “pruup-pruup” and then the Fierynecked Nightjar, calling into the blackness of night.

We turned into a loop and then, in front of us, eyes glittering in the darkness… eighteen lions resting all over the road. In the dimmed lights of the vehicle, the magnificent cats stretch and yawn in the warm summer air. Slowly they get up and walk toward the vehicle. My amazement threw caution to the wind, and it was only afterward that I realized what happened. As I sat watching the lions approaching us, my eye caught movement right next to me, and as I looked down, my eyes locked with a pair of yellow cat eyes. She held me spellbound for a minute, sniffed the air, gave me one last look and ambled off into the darkness. I sat there for minutes, not believing what transpired, it felt like a surreal dream.

A breathless moment frozen in time. I clutched my sister’s hand to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming, and she gave me a little squeeze back. We headed back to camp and encountered a further two lions, but my mind was with those yellow eyes… That night I dreamt of those yellow eyes, and for that matter, still dream about it, many years later. It was not fear, it was a powerful awakening that would form the basis of many lion encounters after that.

We woke the next morning in stereo sound – four Purplecrested Louries were calling from different trees. Night was melting away against a grey horizon. Soon enough we were heading out on our next adventure. Our first sighting was that of a pack of Wild dogs, or as my sister explained, painted wolves, which they really are with their unique pelts. The Alpha female was injured and the pack lagged to keep her protected. I cried at this sight and was gently helped by my patient sister to understand the cycles of nature, of death and life. It was such precious wisdom, which served me afterwards, but alas, I could not stop crying for that beautiful, hurt animal.

We travelled on the Salitje Road, it was beautiful to me that first time, and has remained so after travelling it every time I’m in the South of the Park. We took the S29 and then the H10. We had incredible plains game sightings of Wildebeest, Zebra, Giraffe and Buffalo. The road was winding upward and the horizon seemed to stretch further. We arrived at Nkumbe.

My sister took my hand, and I followed her. In front of me, a world unfolded, a new horizon stretched out as far as what my eyes could see. I was humbled and awed by the majesty of this vastness. We sat down and quietly looked at the hazy outcrops far away. I looked at my sister and smiled. “I like your heaven my sister, thank you for sharing this with me.”