Wildlife park etiquette

Warthog slurped brown sludge from the water hole. It was sunrise in the park, breakfast time for animals. I’d parked my hire car at Domkrag Dam, one of the few places you could get out and walk around. Anywhere else and lions might get you.

"Are you from England, son?"

The voice was friendly. A grinning middle aged white man in beige shirt and shorts was emerging from a camper van. I hadn't noticed him pulling into the parking area.

"Yes" I said, expecting a handshake.

He flipped.

"I knew it, always British guys who overtake in the game park. YOU DO NOT OVERTAKE IN THE GAME PARK."

The grin was gone. His face turned thunderous. The voice became a bark. He prowled towards me. Though old, he was well built, with the physicality of a man who’d been in the army, or in jail. Or both.

“You bloody Brits”

There was history behind the words, though I’ll never know whether it was personal or political. I was still half asleep. The wild beasts at the water hole looked friendly.

“What did I do?” I said.

“You overtook in the game park, about 2 kilometres back”.

I remembered. I had overtaken him. The white van had been parked on the road, overlooking a grassy valley. I’d passed slowly, trying to see what the people in the van were looking at, but couldn’t.

“What animal?”

“It scares off animals, you don’t do it”.

I was sure he was going to hit me. Grassland stretched for miles, busy with life and none of it human. There was him, me, and nature.

“I didn’t do it. I passed you really slowly”.

“You bloody did” he shouted back.

He stormed back to the van and slid open the side door. I didn’t wait to see what he was reaching for. It was bound to be a gun. Or a huge knife. I’d be filleted and thrown to the hyenas.

I hurried back to my car, and sped away. Out of the rear-view mirror I saw that the gun was actually a deck chair. The old man sat down and watched the warthog with binoculars.

I went back to my cabin for breakfast. An elephant joined me. I ate cereal. The elephant ate fruit swiped from branches of trees I couldn't name. I wished the elephant good morning.

I thought about the angry man, on his deck chair, pleased at having seen off some maniacal youngster who took liberties with park etiquette. I felt ashamed at having fled a deck chair-wielding pensioner.

That night, on a guided drive, a group of Americans fought a fellow tourist who wouldn't sit down on the truck. Shoving happened. Drinks were spilt. Outside the truck, hyenas laughed.