At the end of the Rainbow

The sun-bleached Rhinoceros skull, encrypted with skilled machete workmanship where the horns used to be, confirmed our arrival at Mabandi spring. Named after the veteran poacher that was eventually caught here, the spring is an oasis in the dry and unforgiving winter mopaneveld of northern Kruger National Park. Trevor and I had brought the eight Primitive Trail participants to this tranquil setting for an extended midday break. The major limiting factors on multi-day, unsupported walking safaris is the high noon heat and availability of water. Mabandi provided us with respectable shade, cast by crooked Apple-leaf Trees, and cooled subterranean water that slowly seeps to the surface. Furthermore, this space had become synonymous with ‘gifting’ patient trails groups some astonishing wildlife interactions. Large mammals would drift to this isolated life source from many kilometers around, much like insects to a bright light on a humid savanna summer night.

Just as most of the group had finished their modest trail lunch and reclined on their ground sheets for a snooze, one magnificent Elephant bull broke through the dendritic cover of the bare and stunted Mopane trees along one of his kind’s timeless paths. Heavy polished ivory stretched towards the ground, gently rocking from side to side as the rest of his dust covered body moved forward into open space. His noble arrival grew more gripping with each stride as he calmly moved towards the group. We happened to be positioned directly between him and the spring. Although he was still unaware of our presence, it became clear that interaction would be unavoidable.

I mimed that the group should hold their position and remain seated in the shade. Our posture was as submissive as possible, which would be a good foundation for negotiation with such a ubiquitous visitor.? I slowly stood upright, doing just enough to make him aware of our presence and providing him with enough space to not rush a decision. As one would expect the Elephant bull stopped, raised his head and engaged his senses into the light breeze and strong contrast of the shade we had been resting in. It didn’t take him long to establish what we were and that our intentions were not argumentative.?

He dropped his head, relaxed his trunk and returned to a placid posture. The Elephant veered only slightly off his course and continued along his way to the water, only just skirting past the group with no further concern. From such close quarters we could see fine black hairs sparsely set across his fissured grey skin and smell his sharp sweet odour. He treated us as if we were just another group of animals at a shared resource. A small herd of Impala or perhaps a few ruminating Buffalo bulls. If I didn’t know any better, I would have described him as being ‘content’ with our presence. However, as a biologist I have been conditioned to avoid the assumption that animals share any of the same mental, social and emotional capacities as humans. The use of anthropomorphic language that suggests animals are capable of such qualities points towards a lack of objectivity. With great awe we watched the Elephant bull move past and into the narrow stream bed below before disappearing between the steep banks towards the spring’s source. Soon he would be drinking.

Based on the Elephant’s level of tolerance, I asked that everyone put their shoes back on and follow us quietly and in a single file. Leaving our small day packs and water bottles behind, we moved towards the steep bank where the Elephant bull was drinking.?

As anticipated, the Elephant did not react to our approach even though his keen senses could recognise our change of position on the breeze. Once the trail group got into their final viewing point, we stood less than eight paces from him. We had a height advantage as our knees were in line with his eyes. The trails group watched on as he slowly filled his trunk with water, curled it up and released it into his mouth repeatedly. At one point the bull extended his trunk down to the water and closed his eyes. This time, instead of curling his trunk in towards his mouth, he rapidly extended his trunk in our direction and propelled a full load of water onto the entire group. The cold water splashed up against my body with surprising force. This left most members of the drenched group with shrugged shoulders, palms facing up and mouths wide open.?

The trailing edge of water from the Elephants trunk lost momentum and dispersed into a fine mist. As the sunshine met the minute water droplets the light reflected, refracted and dispersed producing a gently floating rainbow between the Elephant and me. In that extraordinary moment I could not underestimate the Elephant, but recognised his sense of humour. Through the colourful science, I saw the bull smile and my cold objective veins started rushing with red hot blood.?

Do not underestimate the value of fiction. In fact, our lives are lived according to fictional stories. States, nations, companies and corporations only exist because we have created them using our imagination and weaved it into our language and culture. Our individual sense of reality is a spectrum between the measurement of science and the metaphor of fiction. Yet, somewhere between the two we find meaning. Never underestimate the value of story to generate meaning. Everything has a story and to humans, story will forever hold extreme value. Let the sun-bleached Rhinoceros skull at Mabandi Spring be a testimony