The Hunt

By Moffat Matenge

When he left the moody village of Motlhabaneng, Choza had not the slightest idea that this trip had in store for him precious memories that he would cherish for eons to come.

It was during his last year at primary school, precisely the last weekend before the scheduled commencement of the final year examinations. But, instead of doing the final touches of his schoolwork in preparation for the impending primary school leaving exams, Choza was on a travelling mission.

He was headed to a secluded and picturesque part within the Tuli Block Area, a small privately owned camp known to the locals as Kodolamotto, loosely translated to mean “a man’s feet.”

History has it that a shocking discovery by a wanderer donkey’s years ago – of a dead man’s foot inside his walking boot after the man’s unfortunate and fatal encounter with a pride of marauding and hungry lions roaming the area – gave rise to the camp’s name. The name stuck till the present day.

Choza would not be  alone. He would be travelling with his old-time pal, Jumbo, a short sturdy teenager with a square face and an aquiline nose. There was a three-year age difference between these friends, and Jumbo was supposed to be in Molalatau Junior School, attending classes. But after Jumbo was caught drunk at night by the boarding master, sleeping in the ablution block, the school management decided to suspend him from school for a fortnight as a deterrent. But to Jumbo, the holidays had come early.

Connecting with Choza was never a difficult mission. Jumbo simply had to walk to Lediba la Mma Sofeya, a famous pool in the meandering Motloutse River where the villagers of all ages descended in the blistering afternoon to extinguish their thirst and take a dip.

A quick scan of the area was all that Jumbo needed. Choza was there as he had expected. He spotted him climbing up a tree overlooking the pool. Jumbo saw his friend diving from the tree trunk into the deep green end of the pool, leaving white bubbles of water at the point of impact.

Jumbo patiently watched, waiting for his friend to emerge. After what seemed like eons, Choza resurfaced just a few feet from where he was standing. Choza was hitting the water so hard with his feet as he swam, the impact causing some noise that the villagers took a lot of pride in. They named this swimming style mekando.

As the water depth became shallow, Choza stopped swimming and walked the remaining distance to meet his excited friend. It had been a while since they last separated.

“The schools closed?” Choza asked, his smile revealing teeth that had not been brushed for quite some time. He had been swimming in his grey shorts – his everyday school attire, with his entire torso exposed.

“I was given some days off. I lied to them that my mother was ill, and that I was the only one who could take care of her,” Jumbo lied to his gullible friend. He did not want to be judged for his ill-fated conduct, especially by his most trusted friend.

“You are very smart, my friend. I truly envy you.” Choza could not hide his admiration.

“Don’t worry. Once you join me in Molalatau next year, I will teach you how to convince the elders,” Jumbo said, with a salute gesture.

Choza jumped up, and as he landed on the soft sand, he punched the air with his right fist. It was their trademark victory celebration.

Jumbo suddenly reached for Choza’s clenched fist and started lugging him towards the shade that was provided by the sprawling steel bridge crossing over the river. Choza could tell that his friend had something interesting up his sleeve, so he deliberately dragged his feet to make all his friend’s efforts look worthwhile. 

“What are you up to?” Choza asked as soon as Jumbo released his grip.

Instead of responding, Jumbo gave out a light snigger full of beans.

“Let me guess…” Choza said, his soggy eyes flashing with happiness as he looked above for divine intervention. At length, he hollered, “Is this the perfect time for the hunt?”

Three minutes later, Jumbo and Choza were scaling up the riverbank to reach the road that was to lead them to the heart of the village. Choza held his wet school shirt in his left hand, and he moved swiftly to lessen the stinging sensation of the scorching sand on his feet. His pair of school shoes had long given up on him.

A two-minute jog and they reached what would in the future become the village’s large shopping mall and remain what it currently was; a favourite meeting place.

As luck would befall them, they found a yellow van resting under the shade of the Motopi tree, along the two-meter fence encompassing Modeme’s shopping complex. The van was loaded with weekly stock, destined for the tuck shop that served the multitudes who worked in Tuli Lodge.

Sghobo, the yellow van’s driver, had walked into the pub to have a few gulps of fermented waters in preparation for the rough and challenging terrain ahead. It was his established tradition: for the past seven years, he had never driven past this spot without adhering to the ritual.

When he walked out of the drinking hole, Sghobo held two Ohlsson’s Lager in his left hand, and one in his right. He must have deduced that the three cans would aid him to reach his final destination, unfettered.

“Good day, Uncle Sghobo,” Jumbo greeted, bowing his head and clasping his hands together.

“Yes boys,” Sghobo responded as he yanked open the unlocked door.

“My aunt sent word for us to visit, and we were wondering if you could give us a ride.” Jumbo made his intentions known.

Soon, their trip was underway. Sghobo was alone in the front seat, leaving the two naughty friends bundled at the back of his van with his hoard. The trip was expected to last a mere half an hour in the wildlife infested terrain.

Choza had not sent a message nor sought his parents’ permission concerning this trip. It was going to take them two days before seeing him walk through the forever opened gate, still barefoot. No questions would be asked about his weekend’s whereabouts. It would be just life as usual.

After crossing the manned animal control veterinary line, they started enjoying the sightings of various wildlife including amongst others giraffes, warthogs, ostriches, impalas and zebras as the driver skillfully navigated through the thick vegetation.

The boys could not hide their smirks as they spotted elephants after the Mashatu, Lentswe-le-Moriti, Talana Farms and Motlhabaneng intersection. The colossal mammals were making their way from the drinking hole towards the shades assured by protruding enormous trees along the Limpopo River bank. Jumbo and Choza watched in silence, overwhelmed by the majesty of the colossal creatures. This was one of their many escapades in the wilderness, for this was their ancestral land.

As the yellow van puffed and rumbled through the challenging terrain towards their destination, Jumbo opened up a pack of Long Life milk and started dropping one carton at a time to the ground, careful not to be spotted. Choza saw this, but he knew better than to question his friend as that would be construed as challenging his pal’s authority. Jumbo was in control, and Choza knew that.

After alighting by the Kodolamotto turn off and thanking Sghobo for the free ride, the driver continued with the last short lap of his trip as Jumbo ran in the opposite direction with one thing in mind.

Moments later, they had climbed to the peak of the Kodolamottohill where they settled to enjoy the nutritious aftermath of Jumbo’s hard labour and ingenious thinking.

And, as the sun’s intensity dwindled to proclaim an end to the day, Jumbo’s eyes caught sight of a herd of elephants as they made their way to the river. He pointed a finger at the herd, and Choza nodded in appreciation.

By the time they reached the point where the elephants were spotted, the herd had made good progress towards their destination. But Jumbo was not worried by that. He had spotted a calf amongst the herd – which he estimated to be a day or so old – and he knew that the calf was surely going to delay meaningful progress of the herd.

They turned up their pace into a trot now. It was evident from the determination on Jumbo’s face that this was a moment not to be missed. They scurried along the river bank of the Limpopo River, which still had some shallow ravines of clear water flowing downstream, looking and searching.

Surely, the herd had not drifted very far. They could hear the rustling of trees as the elephants brushed past them, and the smell of fresh clouds of dust reassured them that they were on the right track.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, Choza saw Jumbo swiftly raising his right hand with his palm exposed, and immediately brought down his right pointing finger to his lips. With his left thumb, he signaled to his left. And that is when Choza saw it.

He froze.

In their haste to track the herd, they nearly walked past the female elephant which had wandered off owing to its baby’s slow pace. They were now standing side by side with the elephant, and to their relief, the elephant seemed not to have noticed their presence, for it pushed its baby forward with its trunk and kept walking after it.

Jumbo silently retreated, and Choza followed suit. When he thought they were out of danger’s way, he whispered, “Let’s do this,” and started hurling stones at the elephant. Without waiting for a second invitation, Choza mimicked his friend.

The elephant turned and faced its enemies. The colossal animal started flapping its ears, and kicked the dust with its front feet, whilst its eyes were fixed on Jumbo and Choza.

When the onslaught did not stop, the elephant let out a thunderous trumpet as it charged at the invaders, its ears spread wide in ultimate fury.

Jumbo and Choza spun around and ran. After a mere three seconds’ sprint, Choza realized that his engine was overheating. Jumbo was ahead of him, his shirt flapping violently as though he had sought a ride on a motorcycle.

When Choza heard a second loud bellow behind him, he tripped and fell to the ground. He realized then that his days on earth were coming to an end. With his hands, he covered his face and waited for the elephant to end his life. And when he suddenly felt a touch, he knew it was over. He was trembling as tears seeped out of his eyes.

“Choza! Choza!” a voice frantically called his name. Choza opened his eyes an inch only to see, much to his relief, Jumbo looking over him. And to his bewilderment, Jumbo was laughing as he helped him to his feet. It took Choza a second to realized why his friend was in fits of laughter: his shorts were soiled with his own urine.

As he assessed the situation, he realized that the elephant that had charged at them had returned to its baby, and the two animals had resumed with their walk to join up with the marauding animals ahead of them.

“Let’s go and hit it again,” said Jumbo, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He had recharged his arsenal, as he held stones in his left palm, ready for the second blitzkrieg.

But to Choza, the hunt was over. He turned and started walking towards Kodolamotto Camp, crying loudly as he realized how close he had come to meeting with his creator.

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Moffat Matenge, a fifth child in a family of eight, was born in Motlhabaneng, a small and secluded village in the far eastern part of Botswana, in the mid-eighties. He has developed a firm interest in peregrinating and seeing new places – mostly prioritizing the wilderness – that is nonchalantly reflected in this work of fiction. The author is a holder of a Bachelor’s Degree in Law from the University of Botswana and an admitted Attorney. But his first love has always been, and shall forever be, writing.