With a Bushman in the Kalahari

'If you are going to shoot elephants, beware!The nauseating smell is something you'll never forget ...' Such were the reports from friends who had returned from the Kalahari. We still loaded our vans with our shooting kits and set out for the desert.

It was a restless drive. We knew not what was in store for us. Fortunately, we hit the desert while it was still day. 'Good,'we agreed,'that would leave us time to set up a base for our shoot.'However, we had spoken too soon. Round a kerb,our van encountered unexpected slush. The engine strained to pull the wheels through.

I stepped down from the van . As I was looking for stones to place against the wheels,I saw a pair of bright black eyes peering from among the bushes. A bushman, provably drawn to the spot by the roar of the engine! Tales of bushmen are safer to deal with during the day; they are extra alert during the night and more aggressive.

Also I had come well prepared to befriend the bushman. I had some beads which I quickly offered to them as a token of friendship. The bushman accepted the gifts and flashed a set of white teeth that anybody would envy. Coming forth, he offered to give us a hand with the van. On learning that we were out on an elephant shoot, he promised, as well as we could understand, to conduct us to the game.

It was beginning to get dark. A fire stick in his hand, our guide took the lead, walking in front of our van.

How dangling, shiny, corded hair got all my administration. He led us on to a well-trodden elephant path for about an hour. The bushman being our only friend in this wilderness, we could only follow in silence. Seeing our puzzled expressions, every now and then he muttered something in his 'click' language. However, we had abandoned all hopes of understanding him. We guessed from his gestures that he would bring is to some place.

It was twilight when we reached our looking point. Among the trees was a large platform. He pointed up to it. So that was where we were to spend the night. We climbed up the rope ladder. A moment later, our Bushman disappeared. We found than rather strange.

We settled down and were just about to hit the sack when we heard a faint splashing and gurgling like that of a child's laughter. I stood up and looked in the direction of the sound. Stretched at a distance was a silvery band. Sure enough, we were very close to a river, the elephants watering hole. We set up our photography gear in double quick time. We were still at it when a loud trumpet almost rattled us off our perch! An elephant herd was visiting the river at night. We had not expected things to happen so fast. Our hands were trembling from sheer excitement.

The Elephants came trudging along, the calves walking beside their mothers. They were seventeen in all, big and small. Our cameras worked non-stop while we followed them through our lenses. This was my first wildlife shoot and nothing could compare with the excitement I felt in the wild, natural paradise. We shot for an amazing hour, during which the herd demonstrated to is spectacles like shooting water from their trunks. Some even made high-pitched trumpet calls that made us jump out of our skin.

Their thirst quenched, the herd retreated to the bush.

Our Bushman startled us when he suddenly sprang to the ground below us. We realized he had been a silent observer from the bough of a tall tree next to us. He looked puzzled. We had not fired a shot! How could we let the game go by? We showed him what we had shot on our camera screens. I could sense that he was pleased that he did not have to witness the destruction of those majestic beasts.