N. | Swahili|‘elɪfənt
The sun hung heavy over the riverine forests that ran along the Great Ruaha River. The dirt exploded into opaque clouds that settled into a thick layer on our skin as we drove along the two-spoor tracks. Rain had seemingly become a stranger to this landscape, making water a scarce resource for all that resided there. The afternoon temperatures soared upwards of thirty degrees celsius. Rafiki, the Land Cruiser, wearily fought through the heat, the leaking radiator needing a top up every so often. In the back seat I squinted out the open window, scanning the landscape of the lesser-visited Ruaha National Park of Southern Tanzania.
Into the Unknown
We found ourselves in Ruaha National Park after local travellers enthusiastically hand-drew our map and with great enthusiasm, described how to get there. Venturing through back roads, sidestepping quaint villages, cone-like mountains and spindly acacias were all a welcome detour from the main road. Once at Ruaha, the park made you feel alone as if the bush swallowed you up whole upon crossing its threshold and but a few wildlife enthusiasts remained on the other side. Being avid birders, the fish eagles, bee eaters and bustards kept us occupied well into the afternoon.
We passed a small track to my left, where a herd of ndovu were walking towards the river. The car swung left to approach the herd. Holding up the rear was a large bull, with tusks dreaded poachers would crave. His ashy grey body towered over the landscape. Mid stride he paused to glance over at us, him seemingly a safe distance away. Before we had time to enjoy the sighting the bull swung his head around and began his approach with ears flapping. There is something called a mock charge where an elephant tries to scare away any unwelcome company, but will not likely pursue. With his head down and his speed quickly increasing, it was clear this was no fake-out.
Between an Elephant and a Hard Place
At the mercy of our driver, I sat in the back seat helplessly looking forward at the elephant that was getting closer and closer. Just as his body had filled the entirety of our windscreen Rafiki lurched into reverse, our friend pushing the accelerator pedal hard against the floor. Meanwhile in the passenger seat, Robbie frantically began banging his hand against the car door hoping the noise would startle the bull out of his trance. Without success the bull continued to follow us as we hastily reversed, the blacked-out rearview window adding insult to injury.
I sat motionless with adrenaline coursing through my body, waiting for the moment the bull’s tusks would pierce the vehicle, leaving us upside down in the bush. We reached the point where we had turned off the main track and were able to hastily complete a three-point-turn to drive in a forwards direction.
I closed my eyes in fear as the bull stood less than a metre away from the vehicle. Now in forward gear, we luckily put some distance between us and the unsettled ndovu. For what was at least three hundred metres the bull was hot on our tail until suddenly he decided we were no longer a threat to him or his family. He stopped his charge and turned back. Rafiki came to a stop. We all sat silently in the vehicle trying to catch our breath.
With every exhale my tingling limbs began to come down from the high. The high that comes from knowing that you are completely and utterly helpless in altering the situation that is unfolding before you.
“That was close” Robbie uttered.
Another Day, Another Safari
We all chuckled, knowing just how close we had come to being on our last safari. Not knowing why this incredible creature was less than enthused to see us, I will certainly never see Africa’s largest land mammal quite the same again. The lesser-visited Ruaha National Park of Southern Tanzania left a lasting impression. Like they say an elephant never forgets, nor will I forget the very afternoon that turned my admiration for this species into a complete undying respect.
Interested in Visiting Ruaha National Park?
See where else the road has taken us by visiting The Route Less Travelled
