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Authors: Lawrence Anthony,Graham Spence

The Elephant Whisperer: My Life With the Herd in the African Wild (34 page)

BOOK: The Elephant Whisperer: My Life With the Herd in the African Wild

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I returned home nearly six months later. It had been the most intense period of my life – the heat, dust and chaos of Baghdad’s war zone matched only by surreal moments of tragedy, exhilaration, hilarity and despair.

The experience taught me one thing for sure, and that is that the innocent, hope-filled days of
Born Free
are long gone. At one stage in Baghdad the zoo staff had kept a pride of desiccated lions and two Bengal tigers alive by manually hauling fetid water from a stinking lake. Hour by torturous hour, we drip-fed the dehydrated cats – a bucket at a time, and that single bucket was all that kept the animals alive – until it was stolen by looters. We in turn brazenly raided kitchens in Saddam’s bombed palaces and the city’s abandoned hotels for the lion’s next meal while fighting raged on around us.

I have never witnessed such selflessness by such a small diverse group of people. From individual American soldiers who, sickened by bureaucracy, sacrificed their rations to feed starving animals, to tough South African ‘mercenaries’ who acted as self-appointed zoo security guards, and courageous Iraqi zoo workers and civilians who literally put their lives on the line working with Westerners. Baghdad in 2003 was a starkly incongruous snapshot of global good and bad.

The experience fizzed so vividly in my system that I wrote a book about it afterwards called
Babylon’s Ark
. The catharsis of putting this adventure down on paper was
immense, the lessons learned priceless. I also used this amazing experience to create The Earth Organization, which has grown rapidly. Earth Org is not a typical ‘greenie’ lobby, we are an organization of common people that targets practical projects to reverse the downward spiral of the dwindling plant and animal kingdoms.

My elephants faced adversity and misfortune in their efforts to survive, and they did so resolutely, always looking after their own, always keeping perspective, never forgetting to squeeze in fun and play when they could. I found the same qualities in the abandoned animals of the Baghdad Zoo. Despite danger and privation in a world turned upside down, I never once saw them give up. These lessons are central to our philosophy.

When I returned from Iraq, the herd was waiting for me at the gate of the reserve itself. This was unusual as I was told they had been in deep bush for most of the time I was away, so much so that the rangers had difficulty finding them for guests. In fact it was so unusual that the gate guard was caught completely unprepared and had to shut himself in the hut near the fence. When I hooted he reluctantly emerged, saw the elephants were still there and hurriedly threw the keys at me and bolted back inside again. I let myself in.

Nana and her family followed me to the main house and milled around outside the fence. I got out of the car and spoke to them, my voice croaking with emotion. There were now fourteen of them, with all the new additions. The original herd of seven had doubled. The four very latest ones were Mnumzane’s progeny – his spirit would live on both spiritually and physically.

As they stood there, sniffing the air, something soared in my heart and I knew then just how much this herd meant to me. And even more importantly, the lessons they had individually taught me.

They say you get out of life what you put in, but that is only true if you can understand what it is that you are getting. As Nana’s and Frankie’s trunks snaked out to me over the fence, it dawned that they had given me so much more than I had given them. In saving their lives, the repayment I have received from them was immeasurable.

From Nana, the glorious matriarch, I learned how much family means. I leaned just how much wise leadership, selfless discipline and tough unconditional love is the core of the family unit. I learned how important one’s own flesh and blood actually is when the dice are loaded against you.

From Frankie, the feisty aunt, I learned that loyalty to one’s group is paramount. Frankie would have laid down her life in a blink for her herd. To her, nothing was more important – there was no question about this being a ‘greater love’. And the love and respect she received in return for her courage was absolute.

From Nandi, I learned about dignity and how much a real mother cares; how she was prepared to stand over her deformed baby for days without food or water, trying right until the end, refusing to surrender until the last breath had been gasped.

From Mandla, I saw how tough it can be for a baby to grow up on the run in a hostile world and how his devoted mother and aunts ensured he made it as best he could. Since Mnumzane’s death, he had reached puberty and was about to be kicked out of the herd, as nature decreed, and would have new challenges to face.

From Marula and Mabula, Frankie’s children, I saw first-hand what good parenting can achieve despite adverse circumstances. These beautiful, well-behaved children would be what we in human terms would call ‘good citizens’ – something often in short supply in our world. They saw how their mother and aunt treated me, and in return, they
accorded me the respect one would give to a distinguished relative. I loved them for that.

From ET I learned forgiveness. I had managed to reach out to her through her heartbreak and distrust, but only because she had let me. Somewhere along the way she had recovered her life and in the process taught me how to forgive, as she had forgiven humans for the horrors they had visited on her own family before she came to us. She had given birth while I was away and was standing close by looking at me, proudly showing off her baby. I made a special fuss of her.

And, of course, there had been Mnumzane, my big boy who had become one of my dearest friends. Like anyone, there are things I regret in life – and to me the biggest one is that I did not somehow guess that an excruciating tooth infection had been the cause of him going ‘rogue’. I console myself knowing that no other game ranger would likely have worked that one out either. Indeed, he would have been shot out of hand a lot earlier on most other reserves.

But perhaps the most important lesson I learned is that there are no walls between humans and the elephants except those we put up ourselves, and that until we allow not only elephants, but all living creatures their place in the sun, we can never be whole ourselves.

I looked at them through the fence, feeling not only the warm peace of being home after six months of mayhem in a war zone, but revelling in the fact that my greater family was now also with me. The rumbling of their stomachs as they gathered at the fence was the most soothing sound I have ever heard. Just as Nana had done to me in the
boma
eight years ago, I felt surrounded by a sense of extraordinary well-being.

Mandla and Mabula were off on the side now. I knew they would go through the same heartache of ostracism as
Mnumzane had and I wished there was something I could do about it. In larger reserves, they would team up with other adolescents forming a loose bachelor association with an adult bull. They’re called
askaris
and do what most young groups of men do: hang out, chase girls and test their strength and wits against each other and the world.

The older male becomes the father figure they never had in the matriarchal herd, teaching them masculine etiquette as well as more practical matters of survival in the wild, such as where the best watering holes and the most succulent branches and berries are. These geography lessons they never forget – hence the cliché about elephants’ long memories.

In return, the
askaris
treat their father figure with utmost respect and affection. When he is too old to strip the bark off branches, they escort him to marshes or swamps where the leaves are softer. For elephants do not die gracefully of old age, they starve to death after they lose their sixth set of teeth. And when their leader is too weak to stand and dementia sets in, the
askaris
somtimes even guard him as he sags, preventing hyenas or lions from attacking him. Even when he dies, the
askaris
have been known to chase scavengers off the carcass. After he has gone they will visit his bones for as long as they are there, paying respects to a fallen leader. The fact that almost all elephants which perish naturally do so in the soft-food wetlands has led to the myth of secret graveyards and ivory troves where elephants instinctively migrate to die. The truth is they all usually die in the last areas where food is soft enough to ingest.

This is also why those who hunt old bulls don’t – or refuse – to understand the harm they are doing. An ageing elephant male is not something surplus to be dispatched by some meagre trophy-gatherer. He is a breathing reference library; he’s there for the health and well-being of future
elephants. He teaches the youngsters who they really are and imparts priceless bush skills to succeeding generations.

It was now clear that a wise masculine role model is needed in our ever-growing family. With Thula Thula being expanded dramatically into adjoining tribal trust lands as part of the Royal Zulu project, we would be able to import a mature bull to teach the growing number of young males on the reserve the facts of life.

I have subsequently put the word out, and judging by the enthusiastic response, I know that soon we will get a sage patriarch to teach my
askaris
good manners. And I know that Mandla and Mabula will grow up to be fine young males. As soon as the Royal Zulu is established, we will have a piece of Africa as the mother continent was always meant to be, protected and enhanced by the people rooted in the region, people with a stake in the future of their land.

I was mulling over all of this later after spending time in the bush with Bheki and Ngwenya when I noticed the entire herd grazing about half a mile away. The sun glowed on the hills that guard Thula Thula, back-lighting them like golden sentinels, the elephants before them silhouetted on the savannah. It was a vision of this timeless Africa at its most inspiring and I understood once more why elephants are so iconic of this continent.

Nana and Frankie stood together, the matriarch and her deputy. Next to them were their older daughters, Nandi and Marula, both in the prime of womanhood, and with them the first elephants born in the area for more than a century, Mvula and Ilanga. On the periphery, perhaps 400 yards away, I saw the bachelors, Mandla and Mabula. Scattered throughout were the babies.

I will have no interaction with the new generations. The whole idea when I initially adopted the herd was to release them directly into the bush. I never planned to have any
connection with them, as to me all wild animals should be just that – wild. Circumstances, such as their escape and their anguish at being relocated and witnessing siblings being shot, made my intervention a reluctant necessity. As I said previously, I only wanted to get Nana the matriarch to trust one human to ease her bitterness over our species as a whole. Once that was achieved, and she knew her family would no longer be molested, my mission was accomplished. I was keenly aware that too much interaction with humans dilutes the feral qualities demanded in the wilderness.

It’s working beautifully. Today, when I drive past the herd, Nana and Frankie may still approach me. I will always have that special relationship with them. Nandi, Mabula, Marula and Mandla and of course ET also still know me; although they acknowledge my presence and still may come forward behind Nana they do so with greater reservation.

But the youngsters ignore me as I do them. Totally. I am an outsider. The relationships I had with their grandmothers will never be repeated. They will have no direct contact with humans whatsoever – not with me, nor my rangers. And that’s the way it should be.

They are going to grow up just as I wanted my original group to. Wild. If there is one thing I disapprove of it’s the unnatural capture and taming of wild animals, whether an elephant or a bird.

To me, the only good cage is an empty cage.

acknowledgements

To Mom for a lifetime of encouragement, Jason, Dylan and Tanny for their care, and for my wonderful grandsons Ethan and Brogan, Gavin, Mandy, ‘The Chosen One’, Jackie, and Laurie and Wilkie from Cambodia. Terrie, Paul, Cameron, and Graham for his insight and skill. The Malby family. Hilary and Grant. Jonno and Stan for fun friendships, and refusing to agree on anything, ever. Nkosi Nkanyiso Biyela for his wisdom, Ben and the Ngubane family for their wonderful friendship, Nkosi Phiwayinkosi Chakide Biyela for his foresight and leadership. Barbara, Yvette and all the Earth Org staff for taking up the challenge. Ian Raper for his leadership. Mehdy and the Zarrabeni family, Dave Cooper the game rangers’ game ranger. Bella. Elmien. Marion Garai. The Bruwer boys. Mabona, Vusi, Ngwenya, Bheki, Bonisiwe, Biyela, Zelda, Brigitte and all the incredible Thula Thula staff. David and Brendan for being there and doing it, and to Peter Joseph, Ingrid Connell, and Lisa Hagan for their confidence and support.

ALSO BY LAWRENCE ANTHONY WITH GRAHAM SPENCE

Babylon’s Ark: The Incredible Wartime
Rescue of the Baghdad Zoo

Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.stmartins.com

First published in Great Britain by Sidgwick & Jackson, an imprint of Pan Macmillan Ltd

eISBN 9781429986458

First eBook Edition : April 2011

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Anthony, Lawrence.

The elephant whisperer : my life with the herd in the

African wild / Lawrence Anthony with Graham Spence.—

1st U.S. ed.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-312-56578-7

1. African elephant—Conservation—South Africa—Zululand. 2. Wildlife refuges—South Africa—Zululand. 3. Anthony, Lawrence—Homes and haunts. 4. Wildlife conservationists—South Africa—Zululand. I. Spence, Graham. II. Title.

QL737.P98A58 2009

599.67’409684—dc22

2009023815

BOOK: The Elephant Whisperer: My Life With the Herd in the African Wild

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