This is our third day in Cape Vidal. Sonja, David, Kobus and I said a tearful goodbye to Rolene and Daddy Venter at Umfolozi and headed to Cape Vidal. Cape Vidal is north east of St. Lucia, situated in the Isimangaliso Park in Kwazulunatal. We are staying in a cute little wooden cabin. It smells a bit musty but it makes me feel nostalgic. The smell reminds me of the holidays I took as a child with my family. We would spend two weeks every summer in a caravan by the beach in Ballyheigue, County Kerry. The caravan smelled of old socks and I, my parents and three younger brothers usually spent the time arguing in the cramped space while the famous Irish rain pelted on the roof, the wind shaking the caravan from side to side. Once the rain had eased, my mother hunted us out into the drizzle when she had enough of our complaining and fighting. We’d whinge and moan, saying it was cruel we had to go outside when the weather was bad. My father would tell us to go play on the beach at the edge of the waves, saying it didn’t matter if it was raining because the sea makes you wet anyway! I guess parents will do anything for a quiet life.
Around our little hut in Cape Vidal are lots of signs which read “Beware of monkeys. Look after your belongings”. I didn’t pay much attention at first, thinking it was the usual over the top health and safety nonsense. We soon learned that monkeys are crafty creatures. We opened the windows in the hut to try to get rid of the musty smell. Approximately seven seconds later two menacing monkeys hopped in the bathroom window, ran to the kitchen and started to gather fruit from the counter top. Kobus roared at them and they scurried away with bananas and mangos in their paws, probably giggling at us silly humans for inviting them in.
That was not the only run in we had with the fauna of the area. Yesterday evening we decided to have a barbeque, or “Braai” as the South Africans call it. The braai was at the back of the hut, surrounded by trees and shrubbery. Sonja and I sat on the veranda and watched the lads as they prepared the meat. The coals were glowing, waiting invitingly for the meat to be charred by their warmth. We had laid the table nicely, the salad was prepared, wine was chilling in a plastic bucket we had filled with ice. Each of us anticipated that we should be enjoying our chow in about fifteen minutes. I salivated as I watched Kobus put the meat on the braai. No sooner had he arranged our steaks neatly on the grill, we heard a rustling sound in the bushes. Instead of investigating the source of the noise, David and Kobus raced up the wooden steps to the veranda like two little girls who had just seen a mouse! I looked at Sonja in disgust. The size of these two eejits and they are afraid of a noise? For feck sake!
We peered over the railing of the veranda. Six bushpigs were snorting and wandering around the braai. Bushpigs are like warthogs but their tails don’t stick up when they run. After oohing and aahing at the bush pigs and taking some pictures with my digital camera, the novelty of the pigs invasion had worn off. Our feast was surrounded and would quickly be burnt to a cinder if we didn’t get rid of these imposters. We discussed what strategy we should use to get rid of our sharp tusked, tufty eared, uninvited guests.
“Shall I shine the torch at them and start screaming?” suggested Sonja.
The rest of us nodded. Why not? None of us knew what to do so it was worth a try.
Sonja waved the torch around like a raver at a techno gig and whooped at the top of her voice. Six sets of beady eyes stared at her. The pigs seemed to shrug and take no notice. They continued to scratch around in the dirt around the braai. They looked at us every so often and then turned away. I reckon they were all laughing at us, thinking we were real thickos!
David and Kobus tried running up and down the steps while making ape noises. That didn’t work! We fired a couple of pairs of shoes in their direction. That didn’t work! I threw a jug of water in their direction. They scampered away for about five seconds but once the threat of getting wet had disappeared, the pigs returned. The chance of a rare piece of steak for dinner had definitely vanished!
We had been beaten! We had to wait until the piggies got bored of our company and wandered off. Kobus quickly ran to rescue our dinner from the braai and scampered up to the veranda. Four pieces of smoking, leathery meat were placed on the table.
“Have we enough milk for a bowl of cornflakes each for dinner?” I asked.
No comments:
Post a Comment