Kruger to Hartbeesproot and Lion Cubs
05/11/10
We found ourselves in a sincere silence listening to our driver Johann’s stories, cloaking the van in unseen shadows from his past. His words took us away to a time with no escape from racial segregation and a violence so cold his words turned into ice. As we passed corn and orange farms in front of wavy mountains, I watched his eyes in the rearview mirror, a pondering look like he was scanning through darkness.
Johann said the only news that left South Africa presently and during apartheid is skewed propaganda. Blacks and whites have mostly always gotten along, he said, and most people were unaffected during the civil war. While he said this, he also grew up in an all white school. His black friends had to leave his house by 10 p.m. or his entire family risked “being arrested.” Interracial dating was also illegal, he explained.
“What happened if a white guy fell in love with a black girl?” I asked.
“It wasn’t a common problem. Most black people would not date even other blacks from different tribes,” Johann said.
Words like ‘rape’ and ‘murder’ fell out of his mouth all too casually. At times he smiled, though his eyes never changed, seemingly the only part of his stories unable to hide, poised rough with frail edges.
Throughout his life, Johann has had many jobs from transport and military, to body guarding and fighting poachers while wearing night vision goggles. Setting the mood all too perfectly, he played a CD of sounds recorded from inside a military armored vehicle, creating a background sound of cannon booms and popping guns. In his words, Johann has walked into homes of raped wives and the remains of men tortured to death.
“If you follow and practice your training, you have a strong chance of surviving,” he said, almost too casually.
One of the big problems in South Africa presently, he explained, is an influx of Zimbabwean people coming in for jobs. When they find no work, many resort to stealing from farms and murdering farmers. He estimates over 4,000 farmers have been killed in recent years in Africa.
Passing a highway sign that warned we were in an area with frequent car hijacking, Johann’s phone rang. He later told us that thieves entered his game farm, two shots were fired and nobody was hurt.
South Africa is a very safe country, he explained, but you have to avoid certain areas and always be careful. Advice noted, I thought.
There was one story Johann told that I will never forget. He had entered a farm house to find a murdered family. The wive was raped and the husband was tied down to a chair and forced to watch. The husband was killed by having a plastic bag melted down his throat. To get information from one of the assailants, his partner hanged the criminal by his feet from a tree over a fire, a sight normally reserved for a Hollywood spectacle.
“I told him we cannot do this,” he said. “But we did get all the information we needed.”
Johann spoke of life and death with a rawness, a matter-of-fact solder’s understanding. When his daughter was one, she drowned to death while being bathed by a nanny who was not paying enough attention. It was an accident, he said, so he did not press charges.
“It was punishment enough for her to live with the guilt,” he said.
“I’m sorry to hear of your loss,” I responded, placing my hand on his shoulder.
“That’s life,” he said, pointing forward. “You keep on living.”
Johann was a calm, collected and straightforward kind of guy with an undeniable passion for animals, especially lions. He has also recently gotten engaged to a women from Holland, a former client, he had taken on safari. A true lover of lions, he showed us photos of his last job - Ukutula - a breeding center for Africa’s giant cats. Although his job was over once we reached Moonlight Lodge in Hartbeesproot, he said he’d take us there for free. Whether he got a commission or not, it was nice of him to take us after work in his own vehicle.
…A seven-hour drive later….
Boxie-boo, Anna (Holland), Susie (USA) and I jumped in the back of Johann’s truck bed while Choppa-chaw rode shotgun, later telling us Johann showed her his 45 pistol he carries whenever he is not working. That’s right! I was in bed with three lovely ladies. Feel free to high five your computer screen, but pull up your pants as it is not that kind of story.
Instead of feeding me grapes and fanning me with peacock feathers, the girls took turns making fun of the Ribatron-don.
“Look! It’s a cheetah,” Anna said.
“Nope. It’s an ostrich,” Boxie-boo replied.
“It’s just an orange rock, actually,” Susie ended it, the three of them laughing together in unison, while Johann dodged potholes down gravel roads.
Since I spotted more animals than all three guides from Livingstone Trails Budget Tours, I self-appointed myself as Kruger Park’s best spotter and holder of the greatest patch of armpit hair. Unrelated? Yes. Unfortunately, my love for cheetahs and excitement gave me less of a vocabulary than a talking parrot. Had someone asked me the time, I might have said cheetah - the same word I gave for a hyena, baboon and a rock I spotted.
After showing us tiger cubs, our guide who called himself Sparkly introduced us to baby lions only three weeks old. He then said we could hold them and the girls lost their minds. Had Boxie-boo and I been married, she would have divorced me for her cub. The girls hugged and kissed them, talking with high-pitched voices sounding like gorillas breathing out helium.
“I’m tempted to run,” Boxie-boo said, swaying from side to side as if carrying a human baby.
I’d be lieing if I didn’t admit that these cubs were the cutest things on the planet (besides my niece Talyse, of course). They had deep set eyes surrounded by fluffy, multi-coloured hair and scrunched little faces that cuddled up into our necks. My male cub’s oversized paws gripped my shirt as he began licking my cheek. It was strange to think that in a year this cuddly lion could knock my head off.
“I feel so warm and fuzzy inside,” Choppa-chaw said, her cub asleep in her arms, her movements fluid from maternal memory.
Sparkly and Johann led the way out front, showing us lions of various ages, including the big boy Felix, who has a rare gene making him able to produce white lions. “His only job is to eat and have sex with different lions,” Sparkly said.
Felix’s life was not always easy. One time he returned to the cage still slightly sedated from a medical check-up. The lionesses perceived him to be weak and unable to lead the pride. They almost killed him.
Staff at Ukutula hope their lions will eventually be released in Kruger National Park where disease has lowered numbers. But how would they survive in the wild? Johann’s answer made Boxie-boo’s heart race, our group’s guinea pig.
She was asked to walk away from the group along the fence. As she did, a male lion watched her, then crawled behind a tree. With his tail perched upwards and feet positioned flat and forward, he moved up, then dropped down in the grasses. Watching her.
“Now turn your back,” Sparkly yelled and then lion belted towards the fence.
“As you can see, they never lose their killer instinct,” Johann said. Boxie-boo came back nervously giggling and shaking.
“They haven’t had Canadian meat in a while,” Sparkly joked. Boxie-boo did not find it funny.
When we neared the cheetah cage, I hide my excitement about as well as wearing a bikini would hide a rhino’s obesity. I trotted ahead of the pack with little steps looking like I was bathroom bound trying not to poop myself. My whole body tingled with anticipation to see the coolest animal alive.
“Look at his face,” Anna said, as her and Boxie-boo laughed.
“I will use my wiener as bait if it means I can get close to a cheetah,” I said.
“Did he just say that?” Anna asked.
“Yes he did,” Boxie-boo replied, shaking her head as she often does traveling with the Ribatron-don.
I took a slow seat next to a cheetah named Emma who has a mothering love for lion cubs. From behind her small and narrow frame, I rubbed her back, steam-lined like a racing motorcycle. In every way she was built for speed, from her long tail and narrow, aerodynamic head with black tear drops of fur below the eyes to reflect the sun. She purred, vibrating like an idling muscle car, enjoying my back massage. It was amazing, one of the highlights of our world trip, and I did not want to leave.
That’s all for now.
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