by Hennie van Deventer
Hennie van Deventer has kindly made available two chapters of his soon to be published book, "Mayafudi: Memories of an Elephant".
If I learned anything from my time among the elephants, it is the extent to which we are kin. The warmth of their families makes me feel warm. Their capacity for delight gives me joy. Their ability to learn and understand things is a continuing revelation for me. If a person can’t see these qualities when looking at elephants, it can only be because he or she doesn’t want to.
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Mayafudi (“Maaifoedie”/Rascal) - blue blood of the bush
Ukuthula (Peace from within) - matriarch of the herd and mother of Mayafudi
Nkosikazi (Princess/Little queen) - twin sister of Mayafudi
Mafunyane (The irritable one/
The one that is easily annoyed) - grandfather of Mayafudi
Moholoholo (The large one) - father of Mayafudi
Matcheleni (The smart one) - elder sister of Mayafudi
Mabarule (Big foot) - fellow askari of Mayafudi
Shawu (named after an area near
Shingwedzi, but also known as
Large hook tooth) - a wrinkled elephant grandfather that crosses
Mayafudi’s path
Mafunyane (The irritable one/
The one that is easily annoyed) - son of Mayafudi
This is elephant country. No mistake about that. When one travels along the S3 which parallels the Sabie to the South, the signs were clear. Trees have been stripped of bark. Thick stumps of trees obstructed the road in places. The whiplash sound of falling trees were often heard, as lone bulls and smaller groups of bulls on their destructive path, uprooted giant trees.
Along the picturesque river trail one could at times catch a glimpse of the end of a trunk, which lashed to right and left. These trunks were often 2 m long – the length of the neck of a giraffe, with a mass of 100 kg or more … the weight of two impalas.
At times the area teemed with elephants. Large and small. Breeding herds purposely obstructed the roads. They playfully glided down the bank towards the river, to splash in the water or to drink their fill. This caused cars to dam up on the high-tide bridge across the Sabie, reminiscent of a Saturday morning at a busy business centre in town. Hoards of people leant over the railings of the bridge. Cameras flashed.
Here, in this place, a stone’s throw from the Kruger gate with its never ending stream of tourists, taxis, buses and heavy trucks, hardly two kilometres west of the huge granite edifice of Paul Kruger, Mayafudi was born 55 years ago. Here he trotted between the protective front legs of the clucking Ukuthula.
This is the place where he learnt the joys of stuffing his jaws with the fleshy sweet fruit of the marula tree, and the delicious small jackal-berry seeds. He also learnt to be wary of the river bushwillow. Eating its seeds could cause a little elephant to hiccup uncontrollably.
This was the spot where he – a real little scamp – had his juvenile fun. Where he was happy and carefree.
Now, in his old age, those memories were alive. An intense yearning filled him. He had only one dominant wish. To get the 250 kilometres to his birthplace behind him as quickly as his old eroded legs would carry him.
Mayafudi had heard people say that elephants never forget, hence the adage: a memory like an elephant. It is true that elephants don't easily forget good or wrong done to them. But it is a myth that they never forget. The older he became, the shorter became his memory.
Of his youth, along the Sabie, he only remembered snatches. Of what he could recall of those days he could not give full account. In the animal kingdom were no clocks or calendars. An elephant did not keep a diary.
Of one thing, however, his memory was quite clear. He remembered how beautiful the surroundings were. He would have to search widely to find a more beautiful place. This was very clear to him as he stood making plans for his long flight southward.
From the heartland of Ukuthula’s herd in the Sabie River basin, he remembered the panoramic view of the river. A picture revealed itself of a plateau of rocks over which the broad river flowed noisily on its way to Mozambique – of giant trees, trunk against trunk. sycamore figs, buffalo thorn, weeping boer-bean, weeping wattle, Natal mahogany, jackal berry, water pear, mitzeerie and matumi, trees with music in their names, fighting for space to spread their branches.
Directly opposite Ukuthula’s position across the river was the oasis of the green picnic area of Sabiepark, an exclusive private nature reserve. People fortunate enough to own land in Sabiepark enjoyed watching kudu, waterbuck and bushbuck with powerful binoculars - sometimes elephant, rhino, buffalo, even lion and leopard drinking on the side in the Kruger Park.
The animal traffic was immortalized on film. Mayafudi estimated that dozens, even hundreds, of photographs of himself and his descendants over many years were displayed in the homes of Sabiepark and the albums of guests.
The picnic spot was in those days, before the Big Flood, the gateway to the unique river walk of Sabie Park, stretching for a kilometre along the Sabie River, through shady bowers, and lush green avenues in the direction of Kruger bridge. It was here that the Park’s elephants secretly came to sample the sweet grass and reeds.
Mayafudi remembered the adventurous first scouting excursions across the shallow river, his short little trunk convulsively curled around his mother’s tail – and the consternation of hikers who suddenly came upon an elephant coming from the opposite direction.
West of the picnic spot was the fertile Lisbon Estate with its tempting, sweet citrus orchards of which he had many happy memories. But bitter memories too – such as the cruel reality of his mother’s death in her prime.
It was a deep wounding reality such as hunters with their rifles were a wounding reality. Mayafudi had experience of all these tribulations and more.
Whilst day dreaming, the urge became stronger and stronger to once again tread these paths: also the paths of sadness, pain and suffering. The prospect of his dream becoming a reality, gave him the courage to pursue the difficult journey, which at his age would not be child’s play.
Turning back the clock brought calm to his frame of mind. Eventually sleep overtook him. He looked for a strong tree to support him and leaning against it he fell asleep.
At birth, Mayafudi was but an insignificant, even farcical little elephant. He had large ears flapping around a head which seemed too small. His funny little trunk was out of proportion, flacid and clumsy. Further salt in the wounds was the fact that he was not only uglier, but also smaller than his chunky twin sister. His mass at birth was only about 80 kg, his sister’s at least 10 kg more.
The elephant heart of the twin’s mother, Ukuthula, was swollen with pride. Twins were a rarity among elephants. Ukuthula was however a little put off by his somewhat comical appearance. His sister was immediately baptised Princess or Little Queen (Nkosikazi) whilst he, dishonourably, was given the name of Little Ears (Tindleve).
Not only was his body shape comical, but he also moved in a halting, tottering way – it seemed his body and his legs were not co-ordinate.
Every hill to him was a mountain. Every time he stormed an incline he fell on his backside. His protective mother repeatedly had to remind him to bend his front legs. She then, assisted by some of the younger cows in the herd, gave him a shove from behind. One, two, three, shove! Eventually he regained his feet.
However, he developed quickly. Faster than the 20 odd other youngsters in their breeding herd. Before his first birthday his body grew proportionately. His mass increased to a reasonable 150 kg. His shoulder height increased from 75 cm to almost 90 cm.
Before long his initial clumsiness disappeared. His oversized trunk which was an early Achilles heel, became a thing of beauty which “Little Ears” had learnt to control well.
He certainly was not lazy. He practised for hours and hours to exercise the 15 000-odd muscles in his trunk. With intense concentration he practised to draw water up his trunk, time and again. He then spewed it out through his mouth. Soon he had developed a very efficient “water canon”.
Ukuthula’s “ugly duckling” soon became a real little rascal near water. He did not spare even the most honourable matriarch, irate old bull or cheeky “askari” (an elephant teen in the elephant initiation school). He developed a classical technique in the use of his water canon.
He was a clever play-actor. He would feign ignorance of the presence of others who came to drink. He would then squirt water into his mouth and gently rub his ear, using his trunk. By doing this he could pinpoint the exact position of his prey, down-wind. Suddenly he would draw a full load of water. Supposedly on the way to his mouth, he would brace his muscles. With perfect co-ordination he would emit a thick, cold stream of water. The unexpected blast would hit like the hose of a fireman. Tinier receivers, caught unawares, would be blown of their feet whilst adult family, wet to the bone, could only smile with embarrassment. To make matters worse was the sardonic smile on the face of the little mischief-maker.
Elephants know how to cast. They can fling a stone accurately like cricketers fielding on the boundary. Most of these stones would hit the stumps if the game was cricket.
“Little Ears” was no exception. Using his well-trained trunk he could fling a clump of mud quite a distance. In time the ripe marula fruit became a part of his arsenal. Even the tiniest little fruit he could securely pick up off the ground. More often than not the ammunition hit an unsuspecting victim. These victims were at the wrong place at the wrong time. The little elephant usually pleaded ignorance.
It was such an “unintended” hit that gave rise to Mayafudi’s somewhat strange name. A field warden, Dumisa Sibuya, was unpleasantly surprised by a ripe marula in his face. He fell from his bicycle and sprawled on the gravel road. When he saw the young bull that was responsible, the first word he could think of was “Maaifoedie”, an Afrikaans word which mildly expressed his feelings. His bare knees were bloody. His rifle was broken. His ego was sorely deflated.
It is possible that Dumisa was scolded for a “maaifoedie” by an Afrikaans speaking game ranger. The name struck in the Shangaan’s memory. The word burst from his angry lips and could be heard by the other elephants 200 metres way.
Originally the word “maaifoedie” was a somewhat harsh expression, similar to the Dutch “moerneuker” with exactly the same bad connotations. Later on the word lost its taboo value. Present day alternatives include such as rogue, scamp, rascal, skollie, bounder, good-for-nothing, rotter, hooligan, bloody fool and bastard. “Donnerwetter”, a German expression, or the Afrikaans “bliksem” would have expressed similar feelings at that moment.
The elephant ear, however, was not offended by the strange word. It had quite a pleasant “elephantine” sound. “Mayafudi” left a unique taste. Ukuthula liked the taste. She did not think that “Little Ears” was a suitable name for her dapper little bull any longer. The name Mayafudi immediately struck a pleasant chord. The herd took up the sound. They all loved the new name.