Death by elephant shows nature's sobering side

Recently, sad news reached me regarding the March 30 death of Fortune Mkhize, a 27-year-old ranger and "trails" guide in Hluhluwe-Imfolozi Park, a vast wilderness preserve in South Africa's Kwazulu-Natal province.

Regular readers of this travel section may recall that in December I wrote about my experience following Mkhize on a walkabout through a small corner of the 1,000-square-mile expanse of African bush. For three days last April, our six-person party, including Mkhize and Wilson MBatha, another guide, walked trails worn by animals, carrying all of our food and gear, and camping under the stars at sites Mkhize chose. Encounters with the local fauna were constant and often close-up, and we sighted rhinos, baboons, cheetahs, giraffes, water buffalo and many of the park's other wild animals.

To underscore the danger of these encounters, both rangers constantly carried loaded .458-caliber rifles.

As I wrote, the most memorable of these encounters was a bull elephant we happened upon while hiking out of the area on the final day of our exploration. As we rounded a stand of acacia trees, there he was 20 yards away. He seemed the largest animal I'd ever seen in person, his head poking among the tree tops maybe 20 feet off the ground. Regarding us warily as we slowly backed away, after a minute or so he turned and sauntered off through the thorn-studded bushes.

On March 30, 2004, almost a year to the day after our trip, Mkhize, operations manager of the park's wilderness programs, was leading a similar "trails" party through the same territory we had traversed. According to a media release and subsequent newspaper reports, on the morning of their first day, Mkhize was leading two couples, one from California, the other South African, with Thomas Mathenjwa, another park ranger acting as rear guard.

Maybe two hours into the trek, the group encountered a feeding elephant. Carefully, the group passed by the elephant, but then a few minutes later, Mkhize came upon a second elephant, a large male. Concerned that this bull seemed agitated, Mkhize said its rheumy eyes indicated it might be in musth or fevered with an impacted tooth or tusk.

According to established procedures, Mkhize hand-signaled the others to back away slowly, and as they did, he faced the huge animal while slowly retreating himself. However, with no warning, the elephant suddenly charged Mkhize, who yelled for the others to "Go! Go! Go!"

One hiker, Elizabeth Sherman, 29, spoke to a reporter from the Cape Times, "We saw him fall, apparently when he tripped over some broken twigs, and the animal trampled him and then knelt and hooked its tusks under him before grabbing him with his trunk and tossing him aside." Sherman heard Mkhize shout in Zulu: "Ngafa mina kaBaba," meaning "I, my father's beloved one, am dying."

Michael Bindei, 37, Sherman's fiance, said that before the attack, Mkhize had cocked his rifle. "The animal didn't give him a chance to fire. The whole episode lasted a split second."

Mathenjwa shot his rifle in the air as warning, but it only seemed to enrage the elephant, which turned and uprooted a tree before stomping off into the bush.

After determining that Mkhize was dead, the group hiked back to the base camp. A helicopter team was sent out to recover his body. In the 50 years wilderness trails have been offered in the Imfolozi, this was the first fatality.

Although in the days we spent together I didn't learn much about Mkhize's life outside the confines of the park, he was a soft-spoken, well-educated young African man with great skills and enthusiasm for his work.

According to a biographical article, he had grown up in the city of Durban, the son of a high government official. "A life-long love of nature and conservation was the driving force behind his turning his back on a career in the high-powered corporate world, which his childhood friends espoused." After a three-year training program, he joined the Department of Nature Conservation as a field ranger. Serving stints at several other parks and reserves, he requested a permanent posting to Hluhluwe-Imfolozi's trails program, where two years later, he was promoted to its manager. In the four years he lived and worked at the preserve, Mkhize led more than 200 of these multi-day expeditions. In addition to conducting "trails," he was responsible for management of the program's staff and budget.

Having observed his calm demeanor as he carefully conducted relative novices through this uncivilized landscape, I was impressed with his knowledge in the ways of the bush, along with his deep respect and concern for the preservation of this vast parcel of South African wilderness and its natural inhabitants.

A dedicated proponent of the "leave no trace" camping ethic, Mkhize was careful to make sure no evidence was left when we broke camp each morning. Extinguished ashes from the fire were scattered, and sleeping-bag-bent grasses were fluffed up so that no one could tell a soul had been there. Despite the many days he had spent walking among the beasts, he constantly radiated a genuine love and respect for the denizens of this remarkable realm, as well as strong enthusiasm for sharing that with others.

If someone as skilled and experienced as he was can be killed in the blink of an eye, how precarious is the bush for the rest of us? In my short time there, I came close to life-threatening risks on a half dozen occasions but came through unscathed, thanks in big part to his leadership.

Yet that it is untamed and unpredictable is precisely the reason for preserving places like the Hluhluwe-Imfolozi and experiencing them if you get a chance. No theme park or virtual adventure experience can begin to compare with reality. Even in captivity, elephants can be dangerous, as was demonstrated with the death of an employee at the Pittsburgh Zoo last year.

Mkhize's death is a significant loss to South Africa's conservation programs, as well as anyone who values nature and life.

Still, he died doing his duty, sacrificing himself to save those for whom he was responsible.

And he died in the wilderness that was his life.