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ARTICLES
KING OF THE MOUNTAINS * A NAMIBIAN ALTERNATIVE TO TROPHY HUNTING * NEVER SHY OF HARD WORK - PROFILE OF ANTON ESTERHUIZEN * CHOOSING HEAVEN KING OF THE MOUNTAINS
Rain during the 2007 rainy season was extremely poor in most of Namibia, but even more so in the Puros Conservancy in north-western Namibia. This arid semi desert environment, with its endless plains, rugged mountains, sparse vegetation, well known Hoarusib River and Himba pastoralist forms part of the greater Kunene region, formerly known as Kaokoland. Hartmann's Mountain Zebra, one of Namibia's endemic species and listed on Cites 11, remains one of the most sought after trophies and exciting hunts Namibia can offer. This is especially true in the far north west of the country where they occur naturally and can still roam free, without the hindrance of fences. Hunting Hartmann's Mountain Zebra on foot in Namibia's communal conservancies in north-western Namibia is demanding, a great challenge and truly exciting. This, Andrew Kayser from South Africa found out, while on a hunting trip in the Puros Conservancy during the 2007 hunting season. I agree to meet Andrew at Wêreldsend, IRDNC's base camp, 60kms east of Torra Bay. A big man with an even bigger smile, and a small heart as I've later found out, wriggle his body out of the vehicle. Passionate about hunting and also chairman of Tembo Hunting Branch in South Africa, he booked for a community hunt in Puros, but also Hartmann Mountain Zebra as trophy. We left Wêreldsend on a chilly morning in early June for the six-hour drive to Puros. After checking and shooting his rifle we decided to walk the dry mountains north west of Puros village. With a strong cold west wind in our faces, accompanied by the Puros conservancy field officer, we carefully search the mountains and gullies for any sign of life. As it is our first day we are not in a hurry, and enjoy being out in the field after the long drive. The grass is sparse to non existent and we only found a few oryx tracks leading down to the lush green Hoarusib River; A true oasis in this harsh landscape, where they can found some greenery and water, but also the danger of two semi-permanent female lions always on the lookout for any sign of weakness! Early the next morning we found ourselves in the Okongue area south east of Puros on a vantage point, high above the plains where the first stripes of golden sun, colour the bare isolated rocks and grey lifeless soil into a warm blanket. Patches of grass, left from the exceptional rains Namibia received during 2006 can still be found, although few and far between. This area has been earmarked by the conservancy as an exclusive wildlife and hunting zone. It is bitterly cold, and we found it hard to steady our binoculars. We scan the mountains and valleys, as the zebra will start moving back into the mountains after their nightly parade down in the plains. We eventually locate a family group of seven zebra at the foot of some distant mountains. "Here you can see to eternity," remarks Andrew dryly as the zebra seems like an eternity away from us. There is no wind and we approach them carefully from the west as the wind normally blows from the east early morning. Oryx can be seen scattered over the plains as mere dots. Two ostriches are keeping us carefully under surveillance from a distance and start moving slowly away from us. Coming over the ridge the zebra is still 400 meters away with no cover in between. We are also slightly above them. They are grazing and haven't noticed us yet. As there are oryx to our left and right we can do very little, but to get comfortable and hope they move towards us. In the mean time we identified two stallions, one older than the other. Unfortunately the wind picks up and as usual starts playing games in the mountains. The zebra immediately smelled us and first started moving towards us, then recognizing their mistake, fled up the mountain to our utter dismay and disappears over the ridge. Andrew jumped up and suggests we move around and cut them off. I know it's useless as Hartmann zebra is the undisputed king of the mountains and hunting them earlier in my career as an inexperienced hunter, many a times had to return tail between the legs as they seem to get wings on their feet. I decided to keep quite and let Andrew experience the grace of these wonderful animals. We rush up the mountain huffing and puffing. Andrew dragging his 120 plus kilogram carcass up the mountain. On the other side he was amazed at the light footedness with which the zebra moved in the mountains, as they were already hundreds of meters away from us. I just chuckled softly and suggested we look for other game and come back the next day as the wind by now was very bad. We left at five 'o clock the following morning armed with thick jackets, rifle and binoculars. There is a strong easterly wind, which cuts into the bone as we make our way up a mountain west of the Okongue plains. As the sun rises over the horizon, dust clouds in the river below draw our attention to three zebra taking a dust bath. A stallion and two mares. A family group started there ascend from the valley below into the mountains and disappear. As the three zebra seems peaceful, we sat quietly just watching them for a while. An oryx appeared on our right looking in our direction and satisfied of no danger slowly feeding away from us. Springbok down in the valley stands quietly trying to catch the first warmth of sunlight. We start our stalk down a gully out of sight of the zebra and then up river towards them. As we move slowly forward making use of every available cover and shadow to hide ourselves we almost walked into a kudu bull. We wait for it to move off and then continued our stalk. The sun by now shines with all its ferocity and it's hard to believe that it was so cold earlier. The wind is also not doing anything to make the stalk easier and changes more often than my wife clothes. The zebra have in the mean time decided to move out of the river and were now feeding half-way up the mountain. We had a great dilemma as very little cover were available between us and the zebra, making a stalk virtually impossible as well as the fact that they were above us. "Did we waste too much time on the stalk up to this point" I was wondering by myself contemplating various ways as to get within shooting range of the zebra. Making use of milk bush (Euphorbia Damarana) as cover we crawl inch by inch towards the zebra; look, crawl, wait, look, crawl, wait, trying to be as quite as possible on the loose stones and steep gradient. Apart from the stones cutting into bare flesh, as we are wearing shorts, it feels as if the stones get a couple of degrees hotter with every inch. Looking back at Andrew to see how he is doing, I stalled. An oryx are looking straight at us from no more than 30 meters. It just appeared from nowhere. "Stay very still," I hissed to Andrew. "What?" "Stay very still," I hissed again, this time rolling my eyes towards the oryx, still watching us. Why do animals always have this cunning ability of catching you in the most awkward position when you cannot afford to move? After staring us down, satisfied that we have endured enough pain in our limbs and back, he trotted off. We waited for a while and then dare to look if the zebra were still there. We only see two, the third, our stallion, is gone. I scan the mountain, which by know is all shades of grey and white in the blinding sun, making it extremely difficult to see zebra, believe it or not. Andrew and I are lying next to a milk bush, trying to make use of its limited shade for cover. By now there is no wind and old spikes have no sympathy for 
us. I am still scanning the area for the stallion when he suddenly appears from behind a bush and
rejoins the other two. Whispering the position of the stallion to Andrew, we waste no time in getting
him in position to shoot. Although still 150 meters away, Andrew feels comfortable he can take the shot
and so do I. Leopard crawling inch by inch forward, Andrew moves at a snails pace to get into position,
very aware that one miscalculated move can cost him his zebra. I watch anxiously from the back
alternating my attention between Andrew and the zebra. At once the stallion picks up his head and I can
see his nostrils opening wide. Without taking the binoculars away from my eyes I look at Andrew and see
with relief he is in position and is about to shoot. As the shot rang out I see the bullet finding its
target, as the stallion starts running down hill. Eighty meters and it went down.
That night there were great festivities at Puros as zebra meat found their way into grateful Himba stomachs, washed down with Carling Black Label beer. And for Andrew, apart from some cuts and bruises? A Namibian dream comes true. The satisfaction of hunting the King of the Mountains on foot in its natural environment. Written by Anton Esterhuizen A NAMIBIAN ALTERNATIVE TO TROPHY HUNTING
I am a PH registered for 'Big Game' with NAPHA and Natural Resource Management Coordinator, Kunene Region, for a Namibian NGO, Integrated Rural Development and Nature Conservation. IRDNC pioneered community-based natural resource management in the country and now provides technical, financial and logistic support to more than 40 of Namibia's 75 registered or emerging communal area conservancies. This successful national program, linking wildlife and other natural resource conservation to rural development, has won a number of international awards and 14 communal conservancies are already earning more than their own management costs. More than 10 million hectares has been voluntarily put under conservancy status by rural communities, hundreds of new jobs have been created in remote areas and in 2005 more than N$8 million flowed directly into conservancies with another N$20 million earned indirectly. Testing new ideas to generate conservancy income is a major focus for IRDNC. One of my roles is facilitating trophy-hunting contracts in conservancies and in the past two years we have also successfully tested a pilot project called Premium Hunting. This is basically a wildlife management culling exercise that nonetheless offers all the ingredients of hunting - except the trophy - at a much-reduced price. This Namibian Professional Hunters Association-supported project, based on quotas established by the Namibian Ministry of Environment and Tourism (MET) and the relevant conservancy committee, allows 'premium' hunters to shoot more than the traditional trophy hunting permit limit of two specimens. But the only trophy is a photograph. No part of the animal is taken out of the area by the hunter and the entire carcass is the property of the conservancy. Because no trophies are involved a licensed PH is not required although the project has trained local guides. This is NOT trophy hunting at a cheap price but rather an alternative to trophy hunting for 'real' hunters who are fit and enjoy the challenges of hunting the desert on foot. Because hunters must be fully self-sufficient, most clients have so far come from Southern Africa. But we are planning several rustic camps, owned and operated by conservancies themselves, to accommodate overseas hunters. 
In our first year, 2004, we had one client who took 12 animals and generated N$8 000 for the members of
Puros Conservancy. In 2005 we had three hunters who took 30 animals, earning two conservancies
N$26 000. For 2006 six hunters have booked so far and interest is growing in both the German and
Italian markets.
This may not sound a lot of money but this is a trial period, with hunters taking home their photographs and memories of a tough and authentic African hunting experience in a spectacular, remote desert environment. Meanwhile, the conservancy has the benefit of the game meat, the income from selling the skins and horns and the cash earned by local guides and at no cost the conservancy has culled its surplus game that competes with its members' domestic stock. For more information on this innovative alternative to trophy hunting, please contact Premium Hunting, c/o Anton Esterhuizen (Estreux Safaris) at IRDNC (E-mail estreux.safaris@mail.na) who does Premium Hunting within conservancies. An article written by Anton Esterhuizen which appeared in African Sporting Gazette magazine, Botswana Feature, Volume 12, Issue 2, Oct/Nov/Dec 2006, Page 8. NEVER SHY OF HARD WORK - PROFILE OF ANTON ESTERHUIZEN
Antonie Esterhuizen, head of IRDNC's natural resource management support unit for 28 Kunene conservancies, is a passionate conservationist and a professional hunter committed to seeing both people and wildlife thrive in Namibia's communal areas. It was the practical combining of these elements that won him the 2006 Namibia Professional Hunter Association's "Conservationist of the Year award". Anton has facilitated and assisted a number of communal area conservancies to enter into fair trophy hunting contracts with professional hunters and he has taken the lead in pioneering an innovative form of local conservancy hunting in which a communal conservancy sells some of the game from its own-use quota to hunters on a permit system. Appealing to the fit, 'adventure' hunter, such hunting takes place on foot in rugged terrain, with conservancy game guards and a professional hunter. The hunters take away only their photographs and conservancy members receive the meat, plus the per-animal fee. He worked closely with NAPHA to facilitate the training of four conservancy trackers as hunting guides and two more are being trained by him. Anton's contribution to Namibia's national community-based natural resource management program goes beyond hunting, however. He is responsible, with MET, for training conservancy staff in wildlife management and he assists conservancies to develop management plans. Working with conservancies and MET to develop and implement problem animal management strategies is another key focal area. He joined MET in 1988 and after obtaining a National Diploma in Nature Conservation from Polytechnic of Namibia (and being the best first year student of his year), he built up experience in a variety of posts across the country. In 1996 he was appointed Chief Control Warden for North East Namibia. This put him in overall charge of 12 million hectares of North East Namibia -. Mahango Game Park, Kaudum Game Park, West Caprivi Game Park, Mangetti Game Camp, Mamili National Park, Mudumu National Park, East Caprivi, Kavango, Grootfontein and Tsumeb Districts as well as former Bushmanland. In 1999 Anton and his wife Wanda joined IRDNC and moved to the NGO's central Kunene base at Wêreldsend. In 2001 he obtained a pilot's licence, qualifying as the best student of his course. 
Last year he represented IRDNC at an international symposium on leisure hunting, jointly organized by
IUCN and the Zoological Society of London in the United Kingdom. The symposium's title is 'Recreational
Hunting, Conservation and Rural Livelihoods: Science and Practice'.
A quiet and serious person who is at home in nature and who is never shy of hard work, Anton has reason to be proud of his ongoing contribution to the conservancy program - a program which earned conservancies more than N$60 million in direct income and which has created hundreds of new jobs in remote rural areas. It also has significantly expanded the range and safety of many of Namibia's wild species including elephant, rhino, lion, cheetah, leopard, kudu, gemsbok, giraffe, zebra, springbok, eland, buffalo, eland, tsessebe and more. An article written by Dr. Margaret Jacobsohn, which appeared in the Conservation Magazine CHOOSING HEAVEN
(For Mr. Anton Esterhuizen) The Cites Convention has declared Panthera Leo (the lion) on one of its schedules, enforcing more protection for their diminishing population. Their biggest threat in Namibia is the loss, or shrinking, gene pool. If only one lion remains that is immune to a specific disease, and that lion is killed, this gene strain will have been removed forever. The Cites declaration offered new hope, a new ray of life for the lion. It was July and three of us set off from Katima Malilu to Mamili National Park. I was the Chief Control Warden of the Northeast Parks in Namibia. Some of my rangers had informed me of a pride of lions that had moved into Mamili, the land of the African Buffalo. The Chief Warden of the Caprivi Parks and a biologist accompanied me as we set out to dart lions in the area. We would tranquilize an entire pride, take blood samples, and examine their teeth in an effort to measure their overall health and physical condition. The decrease in lion population had been attributed to increased exposure to humans. Although there had been extensive research conducted on lions in Namibia, the decrease in population gave due reason for concern. We were all well aware of the importance of accurate data and we were fuelled with the desire assist in maintaining our lion population. We arrived in the Park with high hopes and after a brief discussion with our resident Rangers we learned that there were nine lions in the pride. Their location was just ten kilometres north of the station. Even our Rangers feared the lion, for he is the ruler of this land. Rarely can even man's modern weaponry match the lion's power as his communion with the land enables him to outwit and outmanoeuvre even the most skilled hunters. July is well after our rainy season, but water is plentiful and the grass is high due to the river rising from the floods originating in Angola. Huge herds of game migrate from the Okavango Delta. They are drawn to the lush, green grass and the lion prides are never far behind. These lions were quite exceptional in my eyes because they were renowned buffalo hunters. They are kings in their own land, afraid of nothing and will defend in the most compromising situations. By midday we arrived at a V-shaped bend at the river. The thatching grass stood tall and elephant grass waved and danced in the wind. This was Mamili. Flood plains and very tall grass characterized this terrain - here the lion blended in with the earth. This was their land - and we were the visitors. We soon found the pride's tracks at the V-bend in the river and spotted them lying in the shade of the Knob-Thorn Tree. Here they would rest for tonight's hunt. We spotted one particularly large male with the most beautiful, long blonde mane such as we had never seen before. With him were three adult females and five sub-adults. We quickly set onto our normal routine. We shot a Kudu, cut open the stomach and dragged it behind the vehicle. The scent would attract the lions. By sunset we had strapped the carcass filled with sleeping pills to a tree If the lions ate from the carcass they would become sleepy, thereby enabling us to dart them with less threat of attack. We were unsure if one Kudu would be enough especially considering the size of the male in the pride. Our camp was just1 kilometre from the Kudu carcass. After settling in, we talked about life and its lot. With over twenty tranquilizers ready to employ, we felt well prepared for what was ahead of us. We had one elephant calibre rifle, and my nine millimetre pistol; something I had grown accustomed to in the army. The calibre was relatively small, but its purpose was to scare away game. By 22:00 hours we had finished our meal for the night and we were ready to go to work. It was now time to begin playing recordings of lions mating and feasting to entice the lions into the area where the carcass hung. Just as we were about to play the tapes we realized that the pride was already indulging on our bait. We were quick to assemble, like a well-rehearsed rhythm. We all had done this so many times before. The Warden was driving the vehicle and the biologist switched on the red-filtered spotlight so as not to disturb the animals. I was the gunner, and I was carrying hope with me - the hope of survival. Despite our prior experiences, in cases like these you are never sure what you're getting into. It's nature; you simply cannot predict what may transpire. There is always the threat that the lion could jump onto the open back of the vehicle. We all accepted this threat as keepers of the land. It was another integral part of our mission which called us to this Ministry and ultimately we felt privileged to take these necessary risks in order to preserve this piece of heaven on earth. Not only did we bring hope to the lion, we also carried Namibia's pride on our shoulders. This was not work to us. We were giving something back to Mother Earth - to Africa. We were given the honour of helping her by blowing a bit of air into her lungs, even if only for these few of her children. As our vehicle approached the Kudu, the Warden switched off the main lights. All we could see was the red-filtered spotlight. We caught sight of one of the big females. The dart from my tranquilizer gun was quick and silent. It hit its mark. This sequence continued as the rest of the lions were successfully darted. It seemed that everything would go as planned. After all the lions were tranquilized and sleeping, we started the procedure of measuring the length and width of their teeth, and taking blood samples. These vital statistics were now marked in ink forever. As my rank dictated I had the privilege and honour to mark this blonde male with a radio collar. My hand brushed over his neck and I could feel his heart responding strong and hard. All I could think of is that he had no idea what was going on. Human ingenuity had tricked and fooled him into a deep sleep. Yet I could sense his immense power; this King of the Bush, this Ruler of Africa - her first born. What a glorious animal this was, sleeping in my arms. He was truly a perfect specimen, and we all smiled with the deepest sense of satisfaction, knowing that few would ever have this close of an encounter with such a beautiful animal in its native habitat. The radio collars would be used when tracking the lions to study their movements and every aspect of their way of life. We would learn from their wisdom of the land in their struggle for survival - their will to live. And in this world where you want to live forever, boundaries do not exist. The lions held so many secrets within them. And it made me feel weak as a human to interfere with these natural given rights bestowed upon them. We returned to our camp, allowing the hunters to sleep it off. Our wish was for this operation to be as peaceful as possible for them and not to bother them with our presence. But we knew this was impossible. My hope was only that the lions had had pleasant dreams of hunting antelope on the flood plains of Africa, guaranteeing their existence on this crooked earth of ours. I prayed that their dreams would remain pure and simple; survival and fitting into this very logical puzzle called Africa. Such a big piece the lion represents, justifiably admired by so many. Back at camp we were pleased with our success and our hearts sang from the work that we had done. We too quickly joined the dream world. This place where the stars are part of us, where the moon's soft light follows our hearts. As experienced Conservationists, we assumed our normal sleeping positions with our heads towards the vehicle. If danger should happen to wake us from our sleep, it would take us from our feet first as predators are threatened by the vehicle due to its size. Our feet and legs would warn us if the "black-cloaked man" was walking close by. As usual, I slept on my stomach with my pistol beneath my pillow. I suddenly woke from my deep sleep. My dreams were no more. As my mind adjusted to this new world, I realized that I was struggling to breathe. It felt to me as if all air had been pushed out of my lungs. A sudden pain shot through my body, ripping and tearing as it drove through my veins. The pain came from my neck and head, burning deeply. I was unsure of what was happening. "What could this be?" I thought to myself. 
Knowing that I was in grave danger I gripped my pistol. It was as comforting as old friends shaking
hands. By now I was as awake as any human could be. As a drop of blood slowly rolled down my face, I
realized that Africa was yelling at me - for maybe I had done her some injustice. And then another
drop of blood. The pain was burning, eating at my soul. I slowly turned my head. I looked up only to
see this radio collar which I had assembled into place no more than an hour ago. My mind was quickly
overwhelmed at the awesome strength standing above me, and lost in the indescribable furry I recognized
in his eyes. His power drenched my soul and every little lost corner of my body with his majesty and
with fear. The blood on my face was drying, but my mind was still racing at this tremendous pace -
"What did I do to get into this situation?" My heart was beating at such a rapid pace that the
vibration seemed to rock the earth beneath me.
This sudden threat of death drove into my brain like a sharp nail. I wanted to yell, I wanted to scream, but I could not. Maybe it was God that kept me silent in this moment of peril. Death seemed imminent and my options were limited. There was only one way I could escape these jaws of death. I knew well that the lion was starting to feast. I had seen this so many times before. When the lion kills, he licks the skin off it's prey before he eats. Their tongues are covered in little hooks so as to remove all the hair and dirt from their prey's skin before feasting. This was not a good sign, at least not for me. The only option I had was to draw my pistol from underneath my pillow and fire a couple of warning shots in the air. The weapon's calibre was so small I could not risk wounding this lion in an attempt to kill him. A wounded lion carries with him all of Africa's furry and anger. And to stop such a lion is basically impossible. He wants to live and refuses to part from this world that he knows so well and loves so much. I had to fire the warning shots and pray that the exploding cartridges would scare him off. It was clear to me that this male; this beautiful young male was about to feast - from me. Again the lion licked me. I felt the warm ravine of blood tumbling down my face. My time was running out and I knew I had to act quickly. As my right hand grabbed my weapon, my left hand harnessing the pillow as a shield, I swiftly turned around to face the jaws of the hungry beast. Knowing that he would impale his teeth into my forearm, I shot off two warning shots as his jaws bit through the pillow over my arm. After the two shots were fired, the lion ran into the darkness. The campfire was still burning. There were still seven meters of light - or life . . . I got to my feet as quick as the southern winds bring the cold. My mind could not recognize how my body trembled and shook - as instinct once again took its place in the line of order for this moment of survival. The two other men opened their eyes only to see my world crumbling before them as the lion charged from amidst the darkness. I could not believe this. This was not supposed to happen. Again my weapon sounded in its cry for my life. I fired in front of the lion twice more, just at his feet - in an attempt to frighten him away. The lion abruptly stopped. When the lion stopped, we stared at each other for a while. It came down to this split decision; going for the kill, or saving this beautiful beast. Every time, despite my heart or how much my chance of life or death increased, for whatever reason I decided that I would try to scare him off. I fired two more shots; shots five and six at the lion's feet. Even if the lion charged, I had nine more rounds left in my magazine. I would still have the option to go for the kill if I was forced to. The lion stood his ground and turned towards me with his head held high. He was clearly in charge of this moment, and my fate. He took one step towards the darkness. For a brief moment the tension in my shoulders began to fade. Again the lion stopped and slowly turned around to face me one more time. My guard was up and I could feel the darkness caving in all around me. He was preparing for another charge. This animal that did not fear the sound of thunder nor the strange smell of man, he feared nothing. I lifted my weapon and fired another shot at his feet. I pulled the trigger again to fire another shot. But the shot did not go off. A quick glimpse at my pistol showed the slide-action pulled back indicating that there were no more cartridges in the magazine. I dropped the weapon to the ground and for a moment I was captured by the beauty of the full charge. Every stride he took; his blonde mane dancing and waving in the night air with the firelight as a backdrop. I could see his skin twitch as his muscles drove him closer to me. He did not blink his eyes and the power that was kept within them made me realize that death was inevitable. There was nothing I could do. The darkness smothered me and it felt as if the moon had fallen on top of me. I can't say exactly what happened next, but I caught myself flying on the wings of the flamingos over the vast flood-plains of the Caprivi. Stars took me by the hand and lead me to them, far beyond the Blue Mountains. They showed me how their reflections on the crystal clear lakes drove light into even the darkest corners. I was not afraid anymore. I felt good. I felt safe. The wind dried my tears. It sang a lullaby - a song that I only had dreamt of before. The moon stroked my cheeks with her gentle light. She pulled my eyes from the charging lion onto her; so beautiful and pure. Africa was talking to me and for the first time I could really hear her. I could understand what she was telling me. She was thanking me for the work I had done for her; protecting her holy grounds and treading on her soils rich and pure. Her words took the fear away and made me appreciate the privilege of life I have had so far. And as a gift I think, with the moon's light and the stars shining, a picture was painted on the dark skies of my lovely wife, her beautiful smile and warm eyes, her angel-like soul and lovely hands. They all reached out for me and it seemed that I could touch her, as if she was standing right in front of me, holding me. As if she was guiding me on this journey that fate had planned for me. She was beautiful. And I think if I could have seen Mother Earth's face that night, her image would have been that of my wife. With the grass's calming rustle, and the sweet smell of water from the floodplains, I was drawn back to reality. The lion was just four meters from me, charging. His eyes were glued to mine, and there was no escape. I was psychologically imprisoned by his might and his desire to kill. Again I could feel my wife's hand in mine and the moon as if it was shining from my heart. I was one of Africa's children and the time had come for me to go home. To join the million head-strong Blue Wildebeests migrating over the Serengeti Plains. I was but a grain of sand forming part of the Sahara masterpiece. I was the twinkle in the elephant's eye and the dolphin performing his ballet on the great oceans. I was the Fish-Eagle's cry and the Buffalo's unmatched power. She could take me now. I was ready to join her. I raised my hands up high and took my last gulp of air. Where I was going I would only breathe perfumed breezes. My heart thundered and exploded at the thought of this magical journey at hand and I feared no more. My eyes could no longer see the lion because they were swimming in a lake filled with rainbows. My skin could feel the cold no more and my hands no longer trembled. I sank to one knee and prayed to make this death a quick one. I wanted to join this world, where Wanda would find me one day too. A piece of rock flew up and hit me. That's how close the lion was by then. The beauty of it all was that I did not see the lion as a killer any more. I saw him as Africa's messenger. The carrier of good will. As our eyes met yet again, I did not see death anymore. I only saw heaven. This place of dreams where the rivers carry eternal life and where the trees never lose their leaves. I was not breathing anymore. I wanted to savour that moment forever. He turned away. He stopped only about a meter from me and slowly walked into the darkness. This glorious journey would have to wait for another day. My heart started to beat again. Tears came to me as I realized what had just transpired. I was given a second chance. God had given me a second chance. Praise be to the ways Africa is teaching us. Her methods are often hard, and may even seem cruel, but they are carried by the wind in perfect light and sound. I fell to the ground and started laughing. All that I could think of was my wife, and I longed for her touch and her warm embrace. When we were finally reunited, I told her how much I loved her. And there in her eyes were the lakes of rainbows I had seen as the lion came towards me. From that day forth I was carrying the moon in my heart. Africa is my home, and home to so many magnificent creatures. The need to protect is in my blood. It has been since I was born. I was blessed that day in so many ways, and promised the chance to continue to be keeper of Africa's sacred treasures. - The gift of my life in this heaven called Africa continues - An article written by Dries Alberts based on a true incident, which happened to Anton Esterhuizen |
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