 | It
was early December 1996, and my wife Susan and I had the task of closing down
our game camp at the confluence of the Zambezi and Chongwe Rivers in the scenically
magnificent Lower Zambezi Valley. The rains were about to commence and soon the
only access road in and out
of the Zambezi Valley would be impassable. Christiaan, my youngest son, normally
closes camp but he had left two weeks earlier for a job at a French ski resort.
At 24 years of age, who could not be but excited at the prospect of spending five
months on the ski slopes, particularly after having just spent nine months in
the wild and remote Zambian bush -- mostly on his own? When we called Chris on
our last night before leaving the valley, his final words were: "Dad, please tell
Big Boy I said 'hello.'"
At Chongwe Camp, we have a resident herd of
bull elephants led by a magnificent bull that carried a set of ivory tusks that
weighed more than fifty kilograms each. He was called, simply, Big Boy. His "askari"
consisted of nine young bulls that were extremely protective of him. It was fascinating
to watch Big Boy lean his large head against the trunk of a winter thorn tree
and shake it like it were a twig until all the apple pods fell to the ground.
All of the young bulls would wait patiently at a distance until Big Boy ate his
fill. Then they would move in for the leftovers. Big Boy's manners were impeccable;
he would only eat his share and always leave more than enough for his young askari
who would move in only after he walked away.
Our camp is built along
the Chongwe River and the sheer bank provided a safe wall for us while the rear
perimeter is fenced by a short reed and bamboo divider. (Any animal could walk
through the fence, but none ever has, and elephants especially, seem to understand
it is an exclusive area and they respect your privacy.) Our permanent compound
in the camp was built under several of the big acacia trees that shaded our tents.
When the wind blew, it always showered pods. The camp workers would do a daily
clean up of the pods in the area and place them in small heaps outside the fenced
area.
Big Boy soon learned that these were easy pickings and he was the
first elephant on the scene for the morning snack. Chris used to walk up to within
a couple of feet of Big Boy and have a chat. They were only separated by the frail,
short fence. The conversation was almost always the same. "Hello, Big Boy, how
are you today and where have you been? Are you hungry today?" and other small
talk. Big Boy would listen, cock his head to one side, and reply with deep guttural
sounds that elephants make during their conversations.
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