Across the border—Zimbabwe Writer: Makhosi ‘Mak’ Ncube Photography: Makhosi 'Mak' Ncube
B
eing a guide is not a job at all; if you approach it as such you will never get any joy from it. Being a guide is a calling…it’s something that’s in you; it’s your love for animals, nature and, most importantly, our love of humans as well. Patience too is key, and most of all, a great sense of humour. As a guide you wear many hats: you’re a teacher, a friend, an advisor and a comedian. One of the most common questions I am asked as a guide is, ‘Why guiding’? What made you choose this path’? For me, it has always been in the cards I guess; it’s always been my passion and love even from an early age. Come to think of it, my earliest childhood memories revolve around visiting one of our amazing parks on weekends: Matopos (now known as Matobo) National Park, world renowned for Cecil John Rhodes’ grave and of course its great work in the conservation of rhinos. These visits made me love and appreciate wildlife so much that it got me into trouble at school. It’s a regular occurrence when in primary school to get asked what one wants to be when one grows up. For me it’s safe to say l knew exactly what I wanted to be…I just didn’t use the proper term.
My elderly teacher, a lovely lady really when we were not pushing her buttons, conducted a frequent survey to make sure none of us was finding the thought of being a criminal alluring. It was all going well with the usual replies of ‘pilot, doctor, nurse’, and if you said ‘teacher’ it’s safe to say you found yourself in her good books. When my turn came, I still had thoughts of my weekend at the park and all those amazing animals. ‘Mak, stop day-dreaming in my class and tell me what you want to be,’ she said. I stood up and with a bright, confident smile replied, ‘I want to be wildlife.’
You should have seen her expression…shock, irritation, anger and disbelief all rolled into a nice package on her face. ‘What did you say young man?’ ‘Wildlife,’ I replied. ‘No, no, no, no, there is no such job’ she insisted, but she chose the wrong day and the wrong 10-year-old to correct. This went on and on back and forth, and she went from calm to hysterical when I started schooling her on how, when you work with wild animals, your job is called ‘wildlife’. Things took a turn for the worse when I told her she was a poacher because she hated wildlife, and it’s safe to say after calling her that my day did not end well at all…but let’s leave it at that.
LIVING MY WILDLIFE DREAM 38
TRAVEL & LEISURE ZAMBIA
