How nearly dying from a shrub taught me something useful.
Another month has come and gone in Madikwe, and one thing stood out above all the sightings, sunsets, lions, wild dogs and assorted bush madness.
I am currently sitting in a rather cold Pretoria, drinking a cup of Jacobs coffee.
Yes, I know.
I have said many things about instant coffee over the years. Most of them cannot be repeated in polite company. But my coffee machine is currently sitting at the lodge, I am on leave, and desperate times call for desperate measures.
Despite the terrible coffee, the terrible weather, and the terrible sleep I’ve been getting thanks to my border collie — bless him, but some mornings you genuinely consider whether prison is really that bad — life is actually rather good.
I have been on leave for about three days now. One was spent catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in ages. The next was spent recovering from that decision. And today has been spent sitting in Pretoria contemplating life, poor coffee choices, and why my dog seems determined to conduct psychological warfare at three o’clock every morning.
Sadly, there will be no Cape Town trip this month. It is exam season on that side, and I would be about as useful as a handbrake on a canoe. So Pretoria it is.
But this month feels different.
Strange, even.
Not because anything dramatic happened.
Quite the opposite.
Usually, I cannot switch my brain off.
Ever.
When I’m working, I’m thinking about work. When I’m off, I’m thinking about work. When I’m looking at lions, I’m thinking about editing photos of lions. When I’m editing photos of lions, I’m thinking about the next lions I might photograph.
It’s exhausting.
Case in point: my first month in Madikwe.
The sightings were phenomenal. The guests were phenomenal. The reserve was phenomenal.
But I was still running at about 180 kilometres per hour.
Not even back from drive yet and I’m already thinking about Instagram captions. Thinking about photos that need editing. Videos that need cutting. Emails that need answering. Content that needs posting.
The modern world, it turns out, has found a way to follow you into the wilderness.
Instinctively, when you find an incredible sighting these days, the first thing you do is reach for a camera.
Everyone is looking at the animal.
You’re looking at the battery percentage.
Last month I spent seven days off.
Five of those were spent with my partner.
The remaining two were spent editing photos, building a YouTube video, writing posts and generally continuing to work while technically not working.
By the way, if you haven’t watched the Madikwe video yet, I hear it’s excellent. Completely unbiased opinion, naturally.
Then something rather unexpected happened.
A thorn.
Not a lion.
Not a buffalo.
Not a charging elephant.
A thorn.
The previous month I stepped on one. It broke off deep inside my toe. Being a guide, and therefore possessing the medical instincts of a Labrador retriever, I ignored it completely and carried on with life.
For two weeks.
Then, the moment I went on leave, my body staged a formal protest and rewarded me with a blood infection.
Apparently nearly dying from shrubbery is a thing.
Who knew?
So back to work I went. Antibiotics in one hand, swollen toe in the other.
For the first week back, I had no choice but to slow down.
I walked slower.
Moved slower.
Worked slower.
Thought slower.
And then something funny happened.
Even after the thorn finally emerged five weeks later, having successfully toured more of South Africa than many tourists ever will mind you, I never really sped back up again.
Because somewhere along the way I realised something.
Even as someone who lives in the bush, I wasn’t actually living in the moment all that much.
I was documenting it.
Archiving it.
Scheduling it.
Uploading it.
But not always experiencing it.
This month I took fewer photos.
Far fewer videos.
I looked at my phone less after the fact.
And instead of scrolling through photographs thinking, “What a great sighting,” I found myself sitting with a cup of terrible Jacobs coffee, vividly remembering Addo and Mathata flehmen grimacing right next to the vehicle.
No photo required.
No video required.
Just memory.
And strangely, that felt better.
It probably helped that I had some truly wonderful people around me this month. Guests who were more than happy to spend an entire afternoon with cheetahs doing absolutely nothing.
People who were perfectly content driving along the river for hours without feeling the need to rush to the next sighting.
People who understood that sometimes the best part of the bush isn’t what you find.
It’s simply being there.
It was a memorable month.
A very memorable month.
Not because of one extraordinary sighting.
Not because of one perfect photograph.
But because somewhere between a thorn, a blood infection and an aggressively mediocre cup of coffee, I accidentally remembered why I fell in love with this life in the first place.
Now, before anyone panics, this is still a wildlife page.
So after this little philosophical detour, I shall return you to our regularly scheduled programming and show you my Top 5 Sightings of the Month.
Next month I might have the time and energy to make another YouTube video.
For now though, happy winter everyone.
Stay warm.
And perhaps I’ll see you somewhere out in Madikwe.
Definitely with better coffee than this.
