My soul lives in africa

I just wrote this on the back of a trip I just returned from. Everyone has a place that has ‘soul’ to them. This was one of the places that has soul to me. Forgive me if I wax on to lyrical in this text but was grasping for ways to portray it.

Whilst no linguistic masterpiece, would you want to go and see this place and does it make you think of the places in your heart or blood which has ‘soul’ to you?

I prodded the fire absently with the pair of tongs which I am idly swinging in my hand. The hard thornwood flares, crackling away hungrily. I settle back in my camping chair, listening to the sounds of the Zululand bush. The distant chatter of a bushbaby, the persistant chirping of insects unknown and the dulcet grunting of hippo off to my right somehow comforts me.

I lean back wearily, my muscles sore from the exertions of the day, and gaze up at the brilliant stars, their quantum and brightness amplified from the darkness, unspoilt from any hint of civilisation. I breathe in deeply, how I love that smell, the smell of the wild bush. The slight breeze carries the gamey scent of the beasts that roam so close to us, a scent so difficult to describe yet so specific to these wild open spaces. One that somehow makes me feel at home.

The silence is shattered by the giggling of my brother – in – law, Andy who is locked in conversation with Liam, who makes up our merry trio. From what I can gather, a conversation about which ‘weed’ is better, the one Andy purchased from the petrol station around the corner or the one Liam bought up from Durban, origin unknown. From the sound of it, both have been liberally sampled to the point that which one is which has become a matter of intense debate.

“Hey you lot, go fetch the meat and stop talking shit, the fire will be ready soon”, I yell

“Alrigghhttt, who made the salad, oh no, no chicks are here, we don’t need one”(grin, sorry peter) , Liam cackles, doubling over with mirth at his rather weak attempt at humour.

I sigh inwardly, “its going to be a long evening”, I think, “im going to have to increase my brandy strength to survive.”

Whilst I hear them falling over themselves in the tent, hopefully seeking out a part of a dead animal for me to put on the fire, I let my mind idly wander back to the events of the day.

Approximately 500 km’s North of Durban in Kwa-Zulu Natal, is a dam called Jozini. Thanks to some organising by Andy this is where we found ourselves, on the bank of this dam in the middle of a reserve which winds its way around the vast dams edges. The dam was constructed many years ago and is , in fact, the deepest dam in South Africa, a fact I can bare testament to as our boats fishfinder started recording depths of 200 foot and more.

The more interesting fact is the dam was constructed as precursor to a hydro electric project. They built the dam and then everyone seemed to lose interest in the hydro electric part. The result was that it is now , just a dam, with no real apparent purpose, except to form the centre of some of the most amazing wildlife, I have born witness to. I think what adds to the charm of the area is a total lack of commercial interest. It exists as a playground for purists who want to lose themselves in the wild, to fish, to hunt, or to just be with nature. We get used to parks with rules, and signs, and fences which make the experience false in many ways.

Upon checking into the camp, Debbie, the camps hostess’s sole words were, “Don’t irritate the elephants, they tend towards ill humour”.

That morning, we had launched the boat early.

I must tell you, I have little fondness for crocodiles, being a fisherman who has had his fair share of bad crocodile experiences. It is also not uncommon in Zululand to hear of people eaten by these reptiles, usually because they are lurking in crocodile infested waters. With this wisdom, being waste deep in crocodile water, launching a boat, started my day by causing my testicles to retreat rapidly into that place that testicles retreat to when under threat of being bitten off.

Unscathed however we were off in search of the tiger fish, a voracious fresh water fish with large teeth, that is supposed to reign supreme as the king of fresh water, pound for pound, fighting fish. Jozini, is the only place in South Africa that these are found.
The morning was perfect, the dam mirroring the abundant bush of its banks. We glided past herds of buck, drinking at the waters edge. Rounding a corner, a herd of about 15 elephants having their morning bath, what a treat being able to glide so closely past them.

Breaking the silence, is Liam suddenly shouting and jumping around on the back of the boat, causing it to rock precariously. On calming him, it appeared he had been bitten by a leech, a predicament that was causing him to bleed copiously over the floor of the boat, compliments of the leeches anti-coagulant saliva. We did the only thing we could think of, and that was to hang his foot over the side of the boat in an attempt to ‘chum’ for tiger fish. He initially squealed a lot and it took Andy’s substantial bulk sitting on him to calm him, but as the leeches anaesthetic kicked in and his foot became numb, he became more amenable to the idea.

Whether it was Liams contribution or the mixture of chicken livers, chicken hearts and Japanese mackerel , we will never know suffice to say, we had entertainment laid on compliments of this wonderful fish. 10 were landed and released unharmed and almost double this were lost due to their vicious attacks on our lines.
That is how the day played out, navigating the immense waterways of Jozini, being awed by the beauty surrounding us and playing and laughing as only grown men can.

And so the day passed, night fell, and I found myself ruminating by the heat of this wonderful fire in this Eden . I find the brandy is warm in my stomach, my skin burns from the heat of the day and my body aches from the exertions of our escapades. As I see a large slab of steak come flying out of the tent, I smile to myself, there are a few more laughs to come tonight and tomorrow will bring another day. The blood of my ancestors runs in my veins, I am African born and bred, and only shrouded in the veil of the wild and untamed, am I truly content. Next week I will don my suit to continue all things accounting, but I do so , in order that I may return to places such as this.