TWO SIDES OF THE FENCE
The clarion call of a black-crowned tchagra woke me as sunlight streamed into my rondavel in Mpembeni, a Zulu village just outside Hluhluwe-iMfolozi Park.
I heard boys calling to each other and dogs barking. Looking out, I saw them running along the fence that separates the park from the village where I’d spent the night. Although I speak no Zulu, from their buoyant tones I could hear they were happy to be out hunting.
Like generations of Zulu boys before them, they were chasing down an animal, maybe a bushbuck or steenbok that had found its way under the park’s fence – protein for the braai that evening.
It was December, the start of the rainy season, and the hills of Zululand had turned emerald.
‘Sawubona, Scott,’ said Zamani Nkosi as she brought me a cup of coffee. ‘?
