Chapter 1: Journey Through Zimbabwe

The lush landscapes of Central Zimbabwe were exceptionally generous to us. After experiencing yet another breakdown in the farming town of Chinhoyi, we were graciously welcomed by the local community.

As we finally set off towards Zambia, our tuk-tuk was stocked with a bounty of onions, blueberries, apples, and oranges. For four young men whose diet largely consisted of bland carbohydrates and soy chunks, this influx of vitamins felt like a celebration for our immune systems.

With our driver navigating the road northward, the two guys in the back took on the task of peeling oranges to feed him. At this point, we were well beyond the phase of worrying about hygiene; sharing an orange without washing hands was no longer a concern.

Having spent nearly a year wild camping across Africa, personal cleanliness was a distant thought. Just a month earlier, Jasper and I had resorted to using leaves for a week during our drive through Mozambique because we forgot to stock up on toilet paper. The thrill of discovering a particularly suitable bush often led us to boast about our find as if it were a luxurious toilet roll.

As we journeyed further from Harare, Zimbabwe's capital, the scenery transformed from flat farmlands to a breathtaking mountainous terrain. We navigated through rugged valleys until we reached a plateau where we were greeted by a view of Lake Kariba, the largest man-made lake in the world.

We decided to take a break by the roadside and stepped out to soak in the view. Just then, a sign caught our attention, and we read it aloud with orange juice dripping from our chins: "Warning — Entering Elephant Zone — No Oranges."

"Oh dear," Ivo chuckled, wielding a knife as he sliced his oranges.

"What are we going to do with all these oranges?" Robbie wondered, his oversized 'license to chill' shirt billowing in the wind.

"Eat them?" Jasper suggested, pulling out his drone to capture the moment.

As Jasper took his time with the aerial shots, we embarked on an ambitious mission to consume as many oranges as we could. Looking somewhat like orangutans, Robbie and I stuffed our faces with orange halves while Ivo devised a clever method to get the juice. He punctured the top of each fruit to drink its contents before moving on to the next one.

A cascade of mangled oranges tumbled down from the cliff as we continued our citrus feast. This absurd moment was what we dubbed a 'Cosmic Giggle', a term we used for those instances steeped in irony and humor.

The day before, we had been gifted with countless delicious oranges, and now we were driving through a region where indulging in them could potentially be fatal. Life has a way of being delightfully absurd, and embracing this unpredictability made it all the more enjoyable.

With our stomachs filled with orange juice, we returned to our shabby tuk-tuks and began our descent into the national park.

At a checkpoint, we tried to charm our way into Mana Pools, one of Zimbabwe's most renowned wildlife areas. This unique location is famous for elephants that have learned to stand on their hind legs to reach acacia trees, a sight that attracts photographers from around the globe. Gaining entry would be a challenge.

Driving a vehicle with no doors through Africa meant we had to be persuasive to gain access to the best spots. No ranger wants to be responsible for letting in four clueless guys in a tuk-tuk who could end up as lion lunch.

We had perfected the art of ‘Buttering’—using storytelling to win over officials along our journey. The woman at the desk was friendly but quickly dismissed our vehicle.

“Guys, come on. These cannot go in… but can I take a photo with one?” she asked, laughing while shaking her head.

Prestigious parks were always the toughest to enter. After snapping some pictures of her on the tuk-tuk, we had to reassess our options.

"Okay, the Zambezi River is about 20 kilometers north. We may not get into Mana Pools, but perhaps we can find someone with a boat to take us across?” Jasper suggested, studying Google Maps.

"And what about tonight?" Ivo inquired, glancing at the sun's position.

"We could camp along the road?" Jasper replied, zooming in to locate trails into the bush.

"But the elephants?" Ivo cautioned.

“Yes, they are a legitimate concern,” Jasper acknowledged.

The roads in Zimbabwe often featured narrow paths suitable for tuk-tuks, providing routes for us to camp discreetly. However, these paths were made by living bulldozers—elephants. Encountering a mother elephant while navigating these trails could spell disaster for us.

We took a chance and ventured into the bush with a quick prayer to the tuk-tuk gods.

After traveling just 100 meters, we reached a small clearing and cautiously exited the tuk-tuks. Every rustle in the wind heightened our anxiety as we envisioned scenarios of dire consequences.

Our instincts shifted to pure 'flight' as we prepared to escape at the slightest hint of danger.

The first task upon reaching a new campsite was often the most treacherous: gathering firewood. Jasper and I ventured together into the unknown, but the bushes began to rustle ominously.

“Sh*t,” Jasper whispered, freezing in place.

Having grown up in Kenya around elephants, his sudden stillness caused my heart to race.

Something was moving through the underbrush, heading our way. We began to back away slowly, fixated on the branches that concealed our fate.

Just as we retreated, Jasper burst into laughter, “It’s just a flock of guinea fowl!”

It’s fascinating how easily our minds can conjure up the worst scenarios when wandering in Africa’s wilderness.

Once we got a fire going, our nerves eased, and we slipped into a routine of cooking, sipping tea, and unwinding with a film before bed.

The following morning, we awoke with the sun, passed by the elephant dung that littered the ground, and headed towards the Zambezi River, the natural boundary between Zimbabwe and Zambia.

As we neared the small border town of Chirundu, we noticed a sign for 'Tiger Safaris', featuring an image of an intimidating fish with enormous teeth. Unbeknownst to us, we had arrived at one of Africa's prime fishing spots.

We cautiously navigated a sandy trail until we stumbled upon a herd of elephants. Our engine's sound seemed to unsettle them. This herd was comprised of young mothers and their calves. Though they were a safe distance from the road, we knew to proceed with caution.

The matriarch of the herd turned her massive head toward us, flaring her ears, signaling that we should reconsider our route while the rest of the group retreated into the brush.

After this encounter, we arrived at Tiger Safaris, where a friendly woman named Michelle rushed out to greet us.

“We heard you boys were coming! I'm Michelle; make yourselves at home.”

“Hi Michelle, this place is beautiful, but we don’t have the funds to stay here,” I replied, eyeing the riverside cottages.

“Not a problem! You made it from Kenya in tuk-tuks; you can stay as long as you like.”

“We could make a video for you?” Jasper suggested, eyes wide at the sight of the fish-rich river.

“Perfect! We’d love that.”

Michelle was a true 'Friend of the Tuk-Tuk', requiring no persuasion.

She pointed us to the camping area and briefed us on potential dangers we might encounter.

“Hippos come out at night; they’re generally calm but keep your distance. Don’t swim in the river; there are massive crocodiles… and a few young bulls are in must, so be cautious,” she warned.

Young bull elephants in must have testosterone levels significantly elevated, leading them to focus solely on establishing dominance and mating. These creatures can become dangerously aggressive if provoked.

We settled our tuk-tuks beneath three large trees on a grassy patch overlooking the Zambezi and pulled out our fishing rods. Life felt good.

After a few hours of casting lines into the river, we decided it was time to socialize with our hosts. We reeled in our lines and headed back to our campsite.

As we approached, our laughter was abruptly silenced. Ivo's tent was wide open, with a trail of his belongings leading into the bushes nearby.

“Monkeys?” Jasper speculated, picking up Ivo's headphones.

“I doubt they could unzip a tent,” Ivo replied, glancing at the small troop of vervet monkeys observing us from the trees.

We followed the clues deeper into the dense bushes, where visibility was limited to just a few meters.

“Here’s my bag… the bloody thing took my knife!”

As Ivo bent down to retrieve his knife, a thunderous screech erupted from the bushes—a hidden elephant was nearby.

The noise sent us scattering in all directions. After spending time with them, we could identify the different sounds elephants make, and this one was clearly indicating that we should leave.

I sprinted back towards the tuk-tuks, praying I wouldn’t turn around to see it pursuing us. You can’t outrun an elephant.

Fortunately, the young bull performed a mock charge and eventually wandered off in the opposite direction.

“Holy sh*t!” I gasped at Jasper, who stood by the tuk-tuks.

“Ivo!” Jasper shouted into the bushes.

“I’m fine; I was going to jump into the river,” came Ivo's voice.

He emerged, holding his belongings and brandishing his knife.

“It must have scented the knife; I was using it to chop the oranges,” he explained.

An elephant’s trunk is incredibly versatile; it had managed to unzip Ivo's tent, rummage through his bag, and find the orange juice-soaked knife.

After realizing there were no treats inside, it discarded the knife and waited silently for us to approach, knowing we were coming by the sounds of our laughter.

The situation could have ended much differently had it not chosen to mock charge us.

Just two days later, a few kilometers from Tiger Safaris, a seasoned Zimbabwean guide led a group of schoolchildren on a bushwalk when they encountered a young bull elephant in must. This time, the bull did not mock charge.

The guide's experience helped protect the children, but he ultimately lost his life in the encounter.

While this serves as a somber conclusion to a lighthearted tale, it's crucial to acknowledge the reality of coexisting with Africa's wildlife.

Many people romanticize elephants, viewing them as wise and gentle creatures based on documentaries. However, the truth is that elephants, much like humans, bear the scars of their past experiences, and each one has its unique temperament.

We must treat these magnificent beings with care, for as the saying goes, “an elephant never forgets.”