Hunting in South Africa.
Talking to a friend about South Africa, where I grew up in the 1970s, the subject of hunting came up. A white resident can not own or possess a firearm, for self defense or for sport, like target practice or hunting. Only an indigenous native can. This has been since black independence (1994) when Nelson Mandela became president. So a white landowner has to hire a black scout/tracker for his game Ranch to take out hunting tourists to guide the visiting hunter who is also allowed to have a bolt action, single shot long rifle for hunting. So my friend was telling me about a friend of his who went to South Africa on a hunting trip recently, and it went from an ordinary, but exciting, African hunting safari into a completely wild experience, that the hunter was not expecting. Basically he was a farm boy, who lived rural in the Sierra Nevada mountains of Northern California, and hunted deer, ducks and geese. He wanted to hunt something bigger and exotic, like a wildebeest, or a large antelope, maybe a Cape Buffalo or a lion. And he was prepared to pay for the experience. And pay through the nose he did! But he thought it was going to be worth it. It was a large private game reserve, stocked with lots of wild game, from antelope, wildebeest, lion, giraffe, rhino, warthog, hippo and elephant. The owners put him up in luxuary in a lodge, catered all the food and drinks, with many servants to look after his needs. Early in the morning they set out with an armed guide and 2 armed trackers. And he had his hunting rifle that he brought over from the States with him. They started off driving deep into the reserve in a land rover until they crossed over some tracks of a large Wildebeest. Then they got out of the vehicle and started following the tracks on foot. It was hot and dry, with flies buzzing. Mosquitoes attacked them incessantly. As they progressed, the scat was getting fresher, which meant they were getting closer. No talking was allowed. They were all careful to be quiet, no tree branch snapping. All of a sudden the lead tracker stopped, and consulted with the other tracker and the senior guide. After a while the guide came over to the American hunter and filled him in with what was happening. They had discovered new tracks that had been crossed by the Wildebeest tracks, and he pointed the tracks out to him. They were human tracks, smooth treads, size 12, a large man. The smooth treads were anti tracking boots used in the Zimbabwean war from 20 years ago. The guide explained that they belonged to a poacher, and did not belong there. He pointed out two other smaller tracks, also smooth treads. There were 3 poachers involved. The guide told the hunter they were going to abandon the Wildebeest hunt and instead were going to follow the poachers, and kill them. That was their mandate from the owner of the game reserve, who is his boss, and the mandate from the government, who sanctions the interception and elimination of criminal poachers. The American was shocked. He never expected to be hunting humans, and armed humans at that who could/would defend themselves. He didn’t sign up for that, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. The trackers immediately started following the poachers tracks, and he had to go with them or be left behind. So he went along. The mood got really serious very quickly. The stakes were a lot higher now. He could be in a shoot out soon. It could end badly for him, for sure it would end badly for someone. It didn’t sound like arresting the poachers was an option. The trackers and the guide chambered rounds into their rifles, and told the American to do the same. He did so. He was told that as soon as they caught up with the poachers They were to open fire, shoot to kill. No hesitation. The poachers knew what the law was, death to poachers, so they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot first to defend themselves. The American was shocked. This was real life African style. A part of him deep down was thrilled and excited. This was amazing. This was really happening. This wasn’t hunting sport, this was hunting for survival. This was for real.
