As you make your way to Pafuri, one is staggered by the lilac tinged crimson of the Bushwillow seed pods that line the way. The deadly pale lime green of the Fever Tree forest is as spectacular to see. The dense shade from the Anaboom, Jackalberry and Leadwoods lining the Luvuvhu river make for an amazing picnic site nearby, easily the best in the park.
Baobabs are all suffering damage by elephant seeking moisture from the fibrous wood; no growth rings age these grand monuments. One majestic example sports a branch, curled the shape of a question mark at it’s very apex, of little help answering my doubts. The grasses bear silver feathers that bow down in dancing waves in the afternoon sunlight and seem to urge me onwards as I attempt to escape the humility of rejection. No clear path is evident and all seems lost for the moment. An addiction has resurfaced and each day a new promise is made. The spirit is weak, without control and easily succumbs to false illusion.
Punda Maria camp site was my temporary home, unprepared and unplanned. Dad’s car would do as the tent. With all windows cracked open as wide as courage allowed, the heat and humidity that followed the rain clung thickly and was only cured by the opened doors that allowed an almost existent breeze to evaporate my shower dampened body and clothes, bringing relief.
Snorting Zebra in their alarm, along with rutting sounds of Impala and wallowing, screaming
Elephant at the floodlit waterhole, in the dead of night, are doubly difficult identifying in the fog of sleep and do nothing to suppress primal fear. Frozen that way as the mind slowly wakened and drew in answers easing the effects a rush of adrenalin brought on.
Mapungubwe is the only answer I’m capable of making, to see the Golden Rhino. The next morning found me exiting the park by the Punda Maria gate. On being questioned my destination I’m advised to go back and leave by the very top of the park. Who am I to disobey a chance of more time in this Eden?
Mangled Neuron 