Unfortunately we didn’t have a father figure for Mnumzane, so he was simultaneously going through the agony of losing his mother and sister, as well as being evicted from the only family he knew and loved. Come feeding time, Nana and Frankie would roughly shoulder him away and he only got scraps after everyone else had had their fill.
We saw he was losing weight and David made a point of feeding him separately. His gratitude was wrenching to watch, and David, who has a natural affinity with all wildlife, started paying him special attention, slipping him extra alfalfa and fresh acacia branches every day.
Mnumzane’s lowly status was confirmed one evening when we heard a series of prolonged high-pitched squeals. Denied the use of the Land Rover by Wilma’s web-building activities, we sprinted to the other side of the boma to see that Nana and Frankie had the youngster cornered and were shoving him onto the electric fence.
‘Look at that,’ David panted as we ran up. ‘They’re using him as a battering ram, trying to force him through to make an opening.’
So they were. Mnumzane, caught between hot wires and a mountain of flesh and tusk, was screaming himself hoarse as electricity jolted through his young body. The more he screamed, the more they pushed.
Eventually just as we were about to intervene – although I’m not quite sure how – they released him. The poor fellowbolted and ran around the boma at full speed, loudly trumpeting his indignation.
He calmed down and found a quiet spot as far away from the rest of herd as he could. There he stood and sulked, miserable to his core.
This incident showed conclusively that Nana and Frankie understood exactly how an electric fence worked. They knew that if they could bulldoze Mnumzane through the live wires, they could break free without getting shocked.
Despite this, to my intense relief, by now the dreaded dawn patrol had stopped. Nana no longer lined up her brood at the northern boundary, threatening a mass breakout and despite the odds we seemed to have made some sort of progress in the few weeks they had been there. But neither of us expected what happened next.
The next morning soon after sunrise I glanced up to see Nana and baby Mandla at the fence right in front of our little camp. This had never happened before.
As I stood, she lifted her trunk and looked straight at me. Her ears were down and she was calm. Instinctively I decided to go to her.
I knew from hard experience that elephants prefer slow deliberate movements, so I ambled across, ostentatiously stopping to pluck a grass stem and pausing to inspect a tree stump – generally taking my time. I needed to let her get used to me coming forward.
Eventually I stopped about three yards from the fence and gazed up at the gigantic form directly in front of me. Then I took a slow step forward. Then another, until I was two paces from the fence.
She did not move and suddenly I felt sheathed in a sense of contentment. Despite standing just a pace from this previously foul-tempered wild animal who until now would have liked nothing better than to kill me, I had never felt safer.
I remained in a bubble of well-being, completely entranced by the magnificent creature towering over me. I noticed for the first time her thick wiry eyelashes, the thousands of wrinkles criss-crossing her skin and her broken tusk. Her soft eyes pulled me in. Then, almost in slow motion, I saw her gently reach out to me with her trunk. I watched, hypnotized, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
David’s voice echoed in the surreal background. ‘Boss.’
Then louder, ‘Boss! Boss, what the hell are you doing?’
The urgency in his call broke the spell. Suddenly I realized that if Nana got hold of me it would all be over. I would be yanked through the fence like a rag doll and stomped flat.
I was about to step back, but something made me hold my ground. There it was again, the strange feeling of mesmeric tranquillity.
Once more Nana reached out with her trunk. And then I got it. She wanted me to come closer and without thinking I moved towards the fence.
Time was motionless as Nana’s trunk snaked through the fence, carefully avoiding the electric strands, and reached my body. She gently touched me. I was surprised at the wetness of her trunk tip and how musky her smell was. After a few moments I lifted my hand and felt the top of her colossal trunk, briefly touching the bristly hair fibres.
Too soon the instant was over. She slowly withdrew her trunk. She stood and looked at me for a few moments before slowly turning and returning to the herd that had gathered about twenty yards away, watching every move. Interestingly, as she got back Frankie stepped forward and greeted her, as if to welcome her return to the fold. If I didn’t know better I would have said she was giving her a ‘well done’. I walked back to the camp.
‘What was that about?’ asked David.
I was silent for a while, absolutely awestruck. Then thewords tumbled out, ‘I don’t know. But what I do know is, that it’s time to let them out.’
‘Let them out? From the boma?’
‘Yes. Let’s take a break and talk about it.’
We drove to the house for a mug of fresh coffee, animatedly discussing what had happened.
‘Nana’s now a very different elephant to the one that arrived here, that’s for sure,’ said David. ‘In fact the whole herd
