Skukuza Connection Is The answer To Any Communication you might Need To Make

I continued on my way. In the building in Skukuza where I sat working, I later realised that everything had gone very quiet. I peeped around the door. Nothing moved. Of course, it was past 16:00 on a Friday afternoon. I packed up and tried to open the front door. It was locked – as was every other door at ground floor level. I tried the mezzanine floor. No door leading outside. The second floor. Only offices, store rooms and toilets. When I came to the last door on the upper storey, I turned the handle. The door swung open. I went through into the upper parking area, very relieved. I felt like laughing at myself. Even with a cell phone in my pocket, Tokkie would not have been able to free me before the gate closed. It could have become a long wait in a completely locked-up building, without food or company.

For purposes of communication www.Skukuza is indispensable. For printing, the Skukuza connection is the answer. At the Stevenson-Hamilton memorial library, you simply hand in your floppy disc. A laser printer does the job at a few cents per A4. While you wait, you can read the paper (usually a day old), look through the captivating displays or visit the dog cemetery under a shady tree in front of the library building: a spot of “hallowed ground” of which few visitors are aware. I love going there. Every mound of stone or simple headstone tells the story of a deep bond between a field warden and his faithful four-legged friend with whom many adventures and campfires were shared. One feels like raising a hat in salute.

Skukuza’s golf course was for a long time accessible only to Kruger residents and their friends. A few years ago, the course was opened to the general public. Warning signs such as “Beware of lions”, “Beware of crocodiles”, etc. were placed at appropriate places. Everyone who risks going onto the course, is given written instructions on what to do when a dangerous animal should be hit by a golf ball. The simplest advice is: “Find the nearest tree and climb, quickly!” Everyone has to sign an indemnity form, even a spectator. If you should be “attacked, gored or lacerated” – yes, so it is stated in black and white – it would be for your own account. Good to know that!

I like to walk nine holes with my son Johan or son-in-law Brent. To date, no lions or crocodiles had crossed our path on any of the holes: only warthogs, giraffe and impala. But once, we did find fresh hippo tracks in the dew on the putting green of the third hole. And steaming elephant dung. But let me assure you: the indemnity form is no joke or gimmick. On the scorecard is a photo of a lion, gorging himself on a buffalo on the green of the first hole. It was not a posed photograph.

On the 19th hole many tales are told that have been eternalised in the folklore of the Skukuza Golf Club. A popular anecdote is about a bank employee at Skukuza – a proper dandy – who, just after his honeymoon, wanted to play a few holes of golf with his new bride This gentleman was always impeccably dressed and his golf swing was perfect. This time was no exception. He took his stance, checked his grip and… heard a hoarse barking sound. When he looked up, he saw a string of wild dogs approaching. He threw away his club and jumped for the nearest tree. The love of his life stood petrified. Safely on a branch in the tree, the bridegroom shouted at his bride: “Grab a nine iron – grab a nine!”

As things transpired, the bride did not require the nine iron to defend herself. The wild dogs were on the trail of something else – not newly-wed ladies. But her admiration for her spouse was severely blunted. As was his ego. The humiliation was too much for flesh and blood, when he was mercilessly derided by his club mates. Shortly after the incident, he asked for a transfer – and got it. News later reached the clubhouse that the marriage faltered. A (wild) dog’s life, surely…

Golfers at least have clubs with which to defend themselves. But what does an unarmed runner do when he is suddenly confronted by danger from the bush? Every year this becomes a relevant question when the Skukuza half-marathon takes place. Approximately 1 000 competitors are set off by a recorded roar of a lion. Then they run all around the perimeter of the personnel village, past Lake Panic, which forms part of the golf course. A herd of buffalo once obstructed the route. Field wardens had to chase them off before the start signal could be given. Our first Skukuza half-marathon (only as spectators, though) took place without a hitch. A troop of baboons, however, had a severe fright when a hoard of pumping legs, some pale white and some black, stormed down on them. A hyena emerged from the bush, took one look and hurriedly made off. A warthog joined a perspiring competitor. But not for long.

ON YOUR MARKS: Distance runners at the start of the Skukuza half-marathon.

The half-marathon deserves our support – every year.

This is what we decided. It’s a great occasion to create a carnival atmosphere. And our church, the Dutch Reformed congregation Kruger Park, is part of it. Not only does our minister (or “dominee”, in Afrikaans), the Reverend Carl Louwrens, also take to the long road, but we sell delicious snacks at stalls along the way. With our “dominee” and our church we had “shared quite a few bags of salt” since 1998.

The first was with the huge floods in February 2002, which was a crisis for the congregation. Later on we shared the woes brought about by rationalisation. At one stage the outflow of members became a threat to the future existence of the congregation. We also experienced the shock of two fatal leopard attacks in just more than two years, just a stone's throw from one another.

That we would experience such tribulations, we could hardly imagine when we stopped at the church the first time, armed with a “church permit” (an entry permit for the Kruger), in April 1998. At that very moment, a family of warthogs was testing the grass of the church’s green lawn. We were attending Holy Communion, without prior knowledge. In the intimate, dusky building, the table was laid in front of the pulpit. And the aroma of muscadel wafted in with the ceremonial preparations. Dressed in my very informal blue trousers and sandals – trousers with elastic and a white cord around the middle – I surreptitiously slid into the last pew. But then the minister surprised us. Row by row of communion takers were called to the front to take bread. I was caught out. Where could I hide? Where could I flee?

At the first baptismal service only one baby was christened. A children’s choir sang, a CD was played, and in the foyer was an arrangement around a huge feeding bottle, one with which orphan baby elephants are fed. After the service, a table groaning with cakes waited under the trees. The baptismal tea was meant for the whole congregation, we discovered, because the sacrament is so seldom served.

The Easter service takes place at a unique venue: the impressive granite hill along the H1 to the south. It was a stirring experience to sit on camping stools high above the veld, while the night slowly enfolded us, and to listen to the Easter narrative in song (with guitar accompaniment), poetry, scripture reading and prayer. The Reverend Carl is a man for symbolism. We broke bread that was baked by his wife, Sarah, and children distributed long nails to all present, to be reminded of Golgotha. Everyone was required beforehand to write down the words of John 11:25 on a piece of paper: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” Just before the end of the service, notes, cards and envelopes were exchanged. Tokkie was fortunate to exchange with Esmarie Jacobs, a teacher at Skukuza. Esmarie’s card was a work of art, reproduced on a computer, attractively framed and laminated to last a long time.

During the flood, the personnel village did not escape serious damage

Altogether 61 houses in the village were flooded. The school, where lions once slept on the stoep, lost its computers, books and other equipment. About 150 people – all members of the congregation – were homeless. For the first few days, the church had to provide food to the flood victims. “We have a crisis,” our Reverend Carl said on the radio. At Melkbosstrand we were on tenterhooks for news from Sabiepark. But our hearts went out the good people of Skukuza in their need.

In the winter of 2001 rationalization threatened the Kruger Park like “a roaring lion”. The pruning shears were applied with a vengeance among the existing personnel. For our congregation, it was traumatic to see so many members and friends leave, after receiving so-called “letters” – notice that they had lost their jobs. Sunday after Sunday we, with the shrinking flock, drank deeply from the Reverend Carl’s words of comfort, encouragement and hope. The end of August was the final deadline for those leaving the Park. The last Sunday of the month Holy Communion was served, a farewell that left nobody untouched. On our way to church, a furniture removal truck of Elliot’s entered the Park with us. It was a hard way of conveying the message that many Kruger personnel had reached the end of their road there.

The sermon was delivered according to Isaiah 43:1-3: “Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior….” As we got to know the Reverend Carl, he preached that Sunday, without notes and with a fair amount of humour. The congregation paid rapt attention. Tokkie summed up his sermon as follows: "Come out of your room.” It was based on the metaphor he used of a grumpy teenager who locked him/herself in the room, full of self-pity. He also read Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd”. In conclusion, the congregation sang the Lord’s Prayer. There were few dry eyes after that.

The congregation was always small. This incision went to its heart. After Holy Communion a meeting was held: what was the next step? The thirty or forty remaining families, only 120 people, were unanimous: they did not want to become part of Hazyview or any other congregation. They would try to manage on their own. “God will provide.” On 5 October 2001 a letter of mine appeared in Kerkbode (Church Messenger), official mouthpiece of the Dutch Reformed Church. “In crisis upon crisis – natural disaster, tragedy, human need – the congregation Kruger Park was a firm source of hope for its intimate community. Even after the flood… the congregation could rise and carry on. But this year, the drastic rationalisation of Sanparks personnel wounded it to its heart.”

My letter was an appeal for aid because, I argued, if the Skukuza church should have to close its doors, the voice of the Church in this important outpost will be stilled, possibly for ever. The loss would be enormous – not only for the guardians of this wonderful natural heritage, but also for visitors to the Kruger who seek spiritual sustenance on a Sunday.

Exactly a month later, there was a letter form the Reverend Carl in my mail: “Our congregation is going full steam ahead with a few adaptations.” Later I heard that the macro-congregation Moreletapark, in the east of Pretoria, with its six ministers and 15 000 members, had stretched out a helping hand. I wondered whether Moreleta would ever realise how far and wide the gratitude over this monetary lifebuoy stretched.

Kotie de Beer became the first Skukuza leopard victim in March 2001. The fact that we regularly saw her in church made the experience of the tragedy even more personal and real. The blond, enthusiastic housewife went running one afternoon along a route that she knew like the palm of her hand. A leopard attacked her from the rear, in the middle of a street, adjacent to a nursery which we often visit. She was killed instantly. Her neck was broken.

Two brothers had noticed the leopard in question, just after school, diagonally opposite their home. They sounded the alarm. Field wardens immediately came to investigate, but the animal could not be found. A few hours later Kotie was killed. Why the leopard should have attacked an unarmed woman, gave rise to many theories. One was that the leopard was sick. That would explain why it selected a soft target.

On Thursday, 14 August 2003, Skukuza was once more shaken by a leopard attack. A boy of 9 years, Binkie Nobela, was attacked in broad daylight, barely 400 metres from his home. In a strange coincidence, it transpired that he was one of the boys who saw the leopard that killed Kotie two years past.

On the fateful day of his death, Binkie went to do his homework at a friend. On his way home, he took a short cut through the veld, on an open, much used footpath. An armed field warden later saw the full-grown leopard dragging the lifeless body across the street. He shot at the leopard, but only wounded him. Two members of a search party then killed the attacker. It was an old animal, about 10 years of age.

Two days before Binkie was attacked, the children of Don English, a game ranger, noticed a small bushbuck in their garden. Don caught the little chap and released it where the mother would be able to find it. Things worked out differently. Don’s neighbour, the Reverend Carl, and his running mate, Gus Mills, predator expert of Sanparks, was met by the ranger after their usual afternoon run. He told them the rest of the story.

It transpired that while he and his wife, Sharon, were enjoying afternoon coffee, he had heard a noise. He went outside and saw a leopard against their fence. He walked back into the house, slowly and carefully, to call Sharon. When he went outside again, at first he saw no sign of the leopard. A few minutes later the leopard trotted past with the little bushbuck in its jaws, and disappeared into the bush.

The following afternoon the Reverend Carl and Gus Mills chatted about the presence of a leopard. What if a child should be attacked? Twenty-four hours after the Reverend Carl had expressed his concern, such a tragedy indeed occurred. On the Thursday, just before 16:00, the luckless Binkie was attacked. As Kotie, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Binkie was in the catechism class at Skukuza church, where his parents were active members. A funeral service was held, like two years before, for Kotie. On each occasion the church was packed with mourners.

Tokkie and I went to see where the attack took place. It was near a bridge which we regularly cross when we approach the village from the direction of Lake Panic. I recall telling Tokkie my hair rose when I saw people – adults and children – taking that short cut. Any dangerous inhabitant of the Park could hide there at any time. But dangerous animals are a part of life for those people.

From time to time lions roar beneath their bedroom windows. Such a roar could even have therapeutic value – at least, that is what we heard from the pulpit at a service we attended. The previous minister, the Reverend Chris Marais, was the preacher that Sunday. He told of a member who was seriously ill in a hospital in Pretoria. One evening the reverend telephoned to enquire what the patient’s condition was. The ward sister reported that he was still very ill. “Would you please give him a message,” he asked of the nurse. “Tell him a lion roared at his bedroom window last night.” The sister was rather surprised at this strange request. But not long after that, the patient started to recover…

A last lion tale comes from the Reverend Carl, who has a fine sense of humour. In a congregational newsletter he told of a dead lion he encountered on his way to Skukuza from the eastern boundary. Tourists showed him the carcass. The lion was evidently killed by buffalo. He wrote: “As it behoves a responsible citizen, I contacted one of our congregation the moment I had a signal on my cell phone. After explaining for a few minutes exactly where the carcass lay, I was satisfied I’d done my duty, and went on with my life. The information was relayed to the State Veterinarian Services.

“ Later, I discovered that the person from the Vet Services who went looking for the lion, had difficulty identifying the place from my description. Only after an extensive search, the lion was traced, and it was confirmed that it was killed by buffalo. The colleague from Vet Services remarked dryly: “If this is the way a minister shows the way, I am worried about his congregation.”

ANCHOR OF HOPE. Skukuza’s little church. The fever tree on the right is one of the largest in the Park.