‘Welcome to the Bush’ was written on a sign above the stairs of the ‘Bush Tavern – Pub & Grill’. I grinned. There was no ‘bush’ here now. I had checked into a hotel right by the sea in eMdloti, near Durban, for a few days. This was only a few minutes from the airport and this was where I wanted to arrive first. Besides, I still had to get some stuff. bed linen and a mosquito net, as well as a large plastic crate to protect food against monkeys, for example. But the real bush was already eagerly awaiting me. Or was it me who was eager?
Completely exhausted, I caught the scent of the huge, freshly fried fish fillet. Fish and chips with a sea view. Well, almost. It was already dark and the sea could only be heard roaring and seething from a deep, black ‘nothing’. But that was enough for me – I was tired and hungry but happy. I had finally arrived.
When I drew back the curtains on Sunday morning, I was greeted by a magnificent sunrise over the almost mirror-smooth Indian Ocean. I opened the large sliding door and crawled back under the warm covers to enjoy the expansive view in comfort. Fifteen degrees of cool air flowed into my room and made me pull the covers up higher. Suddenly I saw many small sparkling dots moving quickly on the water surface out at sea. They couldn’t be…dolphins! Amazing. Right in front of my window, at a good 600 metres, a pod of dolphins was passing by. I tried to take a photo with my phone, but the digital zoom destroyed the picture more than it improved it – but still, you could make out something.
After a few strengthening exercises on the terrace with a sea view and a short run along the sweet coastal road, the next morning, after the dolphin encounter, I was drawn into the 22-degree warm, but now wild Indian Ocean. ‘I won’t experience that again anytime soon,’ I thought as I dried myself off and walked back to my hotel barefoot. During my subsequent extended omelette breakfast, the dolphins swam past on the horizon again, giving me a magnificent start to the day for the second time. Only the people on their SUP, who had suddenly joined the group of dolphins, probably had an even better start to the day.
At 11:56 a.m. on the dot, Olga messaged me on WhatsApp to say that she was standing in front of my hotel to pick me up. Olga was an employee and instructor at Bhejane Natur Training, who had been sent to take me to the camp in Hluhluwe, or more precisely to the Kuleni Game Reserve. Bhejane Natur Training, or BNT for short, as I would later learn, was the organisation I had chosen to familiarise myself with the first role of a ‘ranger’, the nature guide. Based in KwaZulu-Natal, very close to the famous Hluhluwe Imfolozi Game Reserve and not far from the Mozambique border, I wanted to use this school for nature guides to build up a rudimentary understanding of the wilderness, to undergo training as a nature guide and trail guide myself, and to establish contacts in the wilderness and for future expeditions.
I closed my laptop and looked around the garden of the family-run hotel. I had to give up the magnificent view of the sea, which I had enjoyed at breakfast, as I approached lunchtime, because the hot sun’s rays had now made it really uncomfortable to linger there. But in the garden and in the house, there was no staff to be seen. It was only in the kitchen that I found a cook who was preparing lunch for the family that owned the property. She shouted something incomprehensible to me into the house and the young man who had also welcomed me on the first evening came sprinting out of the depths of the house and hastily opened the massive, barred entrance.
A silver, dusty and worn Toyota Fortuna rolled into the courtyard, bubbling away, and a slim, pretty woman in her forties jumped out of the car, grinning cheerfully.
‘I am Olga’.
Olga was, as the name suggests, of Russian descent, but had lived in Germany until a few years ago. But now she had quit her well-paid job at a bank and had moved to Hluhluwe in the bush for five years now. After we had stowed all my things in the boot, we drove back to the airport to pick up two more students. As we turned into the airport car park, which was now familiar to me, I was suddenly very happy that it wasn’t me who, after an 18-hour flight, now had another three-hour drive ahead of me. It had now risen to 28 degrees Celsius and the asphalt in the airport car park was literally glowing while we waited for the other two. I thought back with concern to just now being winter here! What will summer be like?
Suddenly a big black pickup stopped next to us. The passenger door was flung open and a broad-grinning, somewhat stout man in his mid-twenties jumped out onto the road, laughing. He was Kyle, a Canadian of South African descent. Olga and Kyle obviously already knew each other and gave each other a warm hug. He had spent a few weeks with his family in South Africa and so hadn’t had to endure any flight time. Vlasti had come by plane, but she was also South African. So her flight hadn’t been eighteen hours either. Then it was fine. She was also warmly greeted by Olga and Kyle explained to me later in the car that the two were long-term students. ‘Long Term’ meant, as I learned, that the two were students at BNT for three years and during that time took almost all courses that existed in the nature guiding field in South Africa. After these three years, they were so well trained that most of the lodges in the game reserves, the employers of future nature guides, were literally licking their lips at them. This was remarkable, given that South Africa suffers from very high unemployment. But BNT’s good reputation also obviously contributed to the employability of its graduating students. Now the two of them had come back from their semester break and obviously couldn’t wait to get back into the bush. Neither could I anymore. After we had squeezed their luggage into the boot of the 4×4 and Kyle had treated us to a coffee from Woolworths (yay, another coffee addict), our journey into the bush could finally begin at around 1:00 pm.
Welcome to Bhejane Nature Training
The drive itself was uneventful. The further north we went, the more rudimentary the buildings became and the more people of colour populated the streets. At our petrol stop in Hluhluwe, 20 kilometres from the BNT camp, we were even the only white people for miles around. Everything, the walls, the curbs, the tyres were a rusty red colour and the now ubiquitous red sand had settled on all surfaces. The sun was already so low that it bathed the street and houses in a warm orange-red light. After about eighteen minutes of driving, Olga suddenly steered the Fortuna to the left off the rough asphalt road and stopped in front of a large gate made of sturdy wire mesh. I already knew this type of gate from my first safari in 2021. They were designed to ensure that no wild animals from the generously fenced-in reserve could get onto the busy roads and be killed by cars. So, we were there!
‘Welcome to Bhejane,‘ Kyle said with a broad grin, while Vlasti sleepily raised her head from the pillow by the car window. But now, really, ’Welcome to the Bush.’ Olga steered the dusty Fortuna onto an open lawn in front of a building that must have been white in the past. The red dust had, however, ‘embellished’ the walls with a red patina, creating a rustic and somehow ‘typically African’ impression – at least that’s how I had imagined it. I was about to get out when Olga told me that she would drive me directly to my hut. I was a little taken aback. Was it that far away? But looking at the soft, red sand paths here, it was a good suggestion. However, we hadn’t driven 200 metres before Olga steered the car off the road again and brought it to a stop in front of a small, dark brown wooden hut.
Tobias was standing in front of the hut. Tobias, a small, slim man in his early twenties, his green baseball cap pulled down low over his face, was very friendly and helpful, but I didn’t understand a word he said. He had such a strong accent that I had trouble making out any English words at all. ‘Oh shit! I hope not everyone here speaks like that!’ I quickly stowed my luggage in the hut and was then led by Toni to the most important places. Toilet, shower, dining room, fireplace and gym! A gym! I hadn’t expected that now! It was very very rudimentary, but there was a weight bench, free weights and even an ergometer! Everything was slightly rusty and the weights were not suitable for a bulk phase, but it was something!
My hut itself was very rudimentary, but at least it was a hut. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect – it might as well have been a safari tent. The furnishings were also very plain and simple, but served their purpose. A small bed, a wobbly desk, a bedside cabinet with woven compartments. Plus all kinds of open storage space. The floor was covered with thin, dark blue patterned PVC and a cold LED lamp had been attached to the ceiling. So there was electricity. Great! I looked up. The roof was just a sheet of metal, which was lined on the inside with a kind of white bubble wrap – ‘This will be interesting when it rains!’
I looked around a little more. In the corners I could see some dry mouse droppings, behind the shelf a cockroach fled from the light of my flashlight and above the shelf sat a cream-coloured gecko and looked at me cheekily ‘grinning’. ‘So you’re a roommate after all,’ I said loudly to myself. I’ll throw the gecko out later. I still had to think of something for the cockroach. But I didn’t want to be too squeamish either. After all, I was here in the bush and had expected all sorts of creatures. So first I made my bed – there was a knock on the open door. It was Becky from England, as she introduced herself. She wanted to welcome me and told me that she was my neighbour. Stefan was the only other person living between her and me. ‘If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me. I know what it’s like to be new here,‘ she said, and then disappeared back into her hut. The people here are very welcoming! I tucked the rake into the ceiling and unfolded my new mosquito net. ’Great! Now the critters can have a party here as much as they like – I’ll stay behind the net in ‘safety’.
I was brought out of my thoughts by distant laughter coming from the campfire, where some of the students had apparently gathered. ‘I’ll go introduce myself,’ I thought, shutting the squeaky door. Meanwhile, it had almost become dark and the last rays of sun were glowing on the horizon, where they conjured up an intense composition of yellow, red and purple with the gathering darkness. When I arrived at the campfire, I was greeted with a big ‘Hello’. My fellow students were super friendly but, from my first impression, also very young. I estimated the age of the group to be in their early to mid-twenties and had to smile a little. ‘Let’s raise the average a little,’ said Dominique. Apparently everyone had been waiting for me, because after I sat down next to Dominique, a young brunette, a slender black student in a ranger’s uniform immediately spoke up and asked everyone to briefly introduce themselves. The trick was to say something about yourself that the others didn’t already know. Some found this quite difficult. Some even had problems with their own name, but most of them managed to introduce themselves eloquently and sympathetically. It was easy for me. Nobody knew me. So I just mentioned my name and where I came from. I deliberately kept more details to myself for later conversations.
The meal started punctually at 6:00 p.m. One table after the other was closed and went to the friendly, black African, well-fed ladies, the ‘aunties,’ and had the food placed on a metal plate. This type of plate also exists in Germany. There they are mostly used as decoration and a stylistic device by hip restaurants. Here, however, it was simply the dishes.
There was rice with potatoes and a kind of beef goulash to eat. Most people were very pleased with that, and I was told that it was usually something with chicken. Some people can’t stand chicken anymore. It’s a good thing I’m not a vegetarian and I like chicken. Otherwise, I would have had to eat rice and salad. After dinner, we were all asked to take a seat by the fire again to sing songs and tell stories together. ‘Storytelling’ was the explicit order of the day. And it wasn’t just any old people telling any old stories, as I had initially suspected, but rather a few people had been chosen in advance to take on this task today. I have to say, there was something about sitting around a fire with almost thirty people, listening raptly to the stories of a single person. ‘Nice ritual,‘ I thought – and suddenly felt very sleepy. I looked at the clock. 7:47 p.m. ’Phew, I might as well just go to bed. How long is this going to take?” I didn’t want to come across as a loner and a misfit on the first day – that would come soon enough. As if my thoughts had been heard, the whole harmonious scene ended abruptly shortly after 8:00 p.m. Almost everyone jumped up and went somewhere purposefully, so that in the end I was sitting around the fire with just one other Kyle (seems to be a popular name in South Africa) and two other guys. ‘Well then’, I thought,‘Then I’ll go too’. I said goodbye, spontaneously decided to take a shower gel and then fell into my new bedclothes, completely exhausted but satisfied. ‘Feels good. I bought something good,’ I said, pleased with myself, as I slowly closed my eyes and snuggled up in the new duvet.
The new chapter had begun!
