Seeing what had just happened to their champion, the other elephants started scurrying off with indecent haste. I caught my breath as Mnumzane swung to face Nana, ears spread wide, head held high.
She quickly placed herself between the threat and her precious family and then turned and started reversing towards him, which is not just a sign of subservience, butalso bracing herself to best absorb the pending meteoric impact. I winced as she took the colossal charge on her flank; ten tons of combined elephant bulk clashing at speed is like watching two Abrams tanks collide. I felt stunned, winded in sympathy just watching.
Satisfied that he now had the respect he believed he deserved, Mnumzane eased over to the water and drank alone, as was his right as the new alpha elephant. From now on he would always drink first.
Mnumzane had come of age.
Things changed on the reserve after that. Mnumzane no longer gave way to vehicles or anything else for that matter. He would stand in the middle of the road and finish whatever he was doing before moving off in his own sweet time. Any attempt to move him along would result in a warning, which was always heeded. Nobody wanted to be charged by the new big boss of the reserve. Everybody quickly learned bull elephant etiquette, namely to stay the hell away from him, or else.
Despite all that, to me he was still the same old Mnumzane and our bush meetings continued, although less frequently as he didn’t trumpet or call me any more. I was a lot more careful when I was with him and if I got out of the Land Rover I would try to make sure that at least the hood of the car was between us. That didn’t always work, as sometimes he still wanted to stand next to me. I just loved this magnificent creature and was so pleased to see his insecurities and fears gone. He had had a tough time growing up without a mother or any father figure and at last he had a role.
‘You are a mamba,’ I said to him at our last chance meeting. ‘You are surely now a real Mnumzane – a real boss.’ He stood there motionless as I flattered him, gazing with those big brown eyes, as if accepting the compliment.
Mnumzane may be the dominant bull, but Nana was stillboss of the herd. Not long afterwards there was another clash – this time between Thula Thula’s two indomitable matriarchs.
‘Lawrence, Lawrence! Come queekly, look what’s happening !’
I dashed out of the house. At one end of the garden was Françoise; at the other was Nana. She had found a weak link in the fence and had broken into Françoise’s precious herb and vegetable patch. Along with her children Mandla and Mvula, she was gobbling every shrub in sight.
‘Tell her to stop! Take her away!’ ordered Françoise.
Farting against thunder would have been a more viable option. Seeing the big grin on my face, she turned to Nana and shouted: ‘Nana you stop this, I cannot buy zees herbs anywhere. I need zem for my guests. Stop! Merde!’
It was a stand-off: Françoise and Bijou weighing perhaps a combined 125 pounds versus Nana, Mandla and Mvula, together topping the scales at perhaps ten tons.
Seeing that I would be of no use whatsoever Françoise rushed into the kitchen and came out with some pots and pans. Before I could stop her, she started banging them together like a demented bell-ringer.
First to respond was Bijou, who thought the sky must be falling and bolted for the safety of the house. I had never seen her deign to run before and was impressed at the speed her fluffy little legs could muster. This left Françoise on her own.
Nana looked up, startled at the clanging, then shook her head and stamped her drum-sized front foot like a dancing Zulu warrior, glaring at Françoise who glared right back, shouting at her to leave. After a while Nana got accustomed to the sound and simply continued eating.
Seeing her percussion wasn’t having any effect, Françoise went off and came back with the garden hosepipe. We have good pressure at the house, so from a safe distance behind afence she opened the nozzle and started spurting water like a firefighter at Nana who again shook her head and stamped her foot back at her.
Eventually Nana got used to the high-pressure fountain and started trying to catch the spray. That was it for Françoise, who heatedly told me and other nearby rangers barely concealing their mirth exactly how useless we all were. She stormed back into the house shouting ‘Merde’ repeatedly.
Once things had calmed down I picked up the hose and relaxing the pressure valve gently offered it to Nana and she came across and let me fill her trunk before going back and totally wiping out the garden.
The next morning Françoise had an electrician over to fortify the fence and the garden from then on was rendered impervious to anything with a trunk.
Whenever the herd comes up past the house, even though they can no longer raid Françoise’s garden, they inevitably pass a 100-yard-long dam we call Gwala Gwala, just off the road, where they like to bathe in the shallows. But elephants can break things just by being there, and on more than one occasion the dam overflow wall has had to be repaired. My rangers told me this had happened again and I went down to have a look, Max at my heels.
Sure enough, even from a distance I could see they had entered the dam on the overflow wall and their combined weight had collapsed it. It was no big deal, the labour team could fix it in a day and so I decided to park off for a while, enjoy the peace and quiet and see what was going on.
There is always plenty of life around water and a couple of hours spent at a dam are
