Driving Through the African Veld Sparked Childhood Memories
I don't visit the past very often but the African savanna took me there.
I climbed onto the dark green vehicle with Buffelsfontein etched on the side. It had been more than thirty years since I had seen African animals in the wild and I was excited.
As the four-wheel drive trundled into the veld, the lack of shock absorbers was blatantly apparent. I repositioned myself as I flew into the air so as not to repeat the back injury I had suffered at the hands of an unskilled speedboat captain fifteen years earlier.
The concern over my lower spine eased somewhat as we came across a herd of African Buffalo grazing peacefully alongside Blue Wildebeest — known as Gnu outside of Southern Africa — and I stared in awe at the majestic creatures.
Minutes ticked by as the ranger navigated our way down the dirt road, stopping for brief moments at each new sighting. Zebra, ostrich, rhino, and giraffe grazed quietly in the protected savanna. A range of African antelope sauntered by. Gemsbok, Eland, Kudu, and Springbok looked at us as if the noise from the large vehicle were second nature.
Buffelsfontein Game & Nature Reserve has separated predator and prey, making it easier to view the majestic creatures. The only fear they may have is from the human predator — poachers. The rangers do their best to mitigate that threat as best they can, which, as a vegetarian, I appreciated more than my companions.
As I aimed my trusty GoPro at the wildlife so familiar to my formative years, my mind lingered briefly on my childhood — a place I rarely visit for reasons I still haven’t quite figured out.
I was born and raised in KwaZulu-Natal, a province located in the northeast of South Africa, to a British father and a third-generation South African mother. Despite my father being English, he became more African than his wife and two daughters put together. He loved Africa, in particular, the veld and the Drakensberg Mountains, and made sure that we headed into one of the two at least once a year on vacation.
Dad was a skilled photographer and loved nothing more than to sit in a watering hole hide and aim the lens of his Pentax in the direction of the animals that came to drink. He won many awards for his wildlife photos and had a dark room off the garage for at least a decade.
I wish I had paid more attention back then.
I was a sporty kid, a tomboy — always on my bike, climbing trees, playing in the dirt, or splashing around in water. While I have an undying love of creatures great and small, I didn’t fully appreciate their beauty when I was a child. Nor did I realize the access I had to some of the planet’s most extraordinary wildlife.
Don’t get me wrong, any time I had a chance to get near any critter, I took it, but I was far more interested in jumping into the nearest river or dam than sitting in an animal blind and allowing my eyes to caress the curves of God’s creatures.
Settled into the hard plastic seat of the game drive vehicle heading into the afternoon sun, I flashed back to my childhood. To the beauty my father made sure we saw, the heart of Africa he wanted us to experience. Images ran like a slideshow briefly through my mind: staring up at his trusty camera from a riverbank, trying to approach a warthog on the edge of a camp as my mother froze in fear, walking along a mountain path in the Drakensberg.
I realized then how much Dad wanted his girls to appreciate the land and the wildness of Africa as much as he did.
I lost my father in April which has kept me in my homeland longer than I planned. I guess Dad finally got his wish. As I sat there in the last row of the dark green off-road vehicle squinting into the distance in the hopes of one last vision of something wild, I truly appreciated the legacy my father tried to leave.
This one’s for you Dad.
For the video of the game drive, please click here.
Please feel free to buy me a coffee if you like what you read.