Miliwane By Myself

This weekend, as my housemates were all in South Africa on various errands – running a marathon, buying flowers for a wedding, and getting drunk – I was left to my own devices. And, now that I have a car, I decided now would be the time to explore. After plucking through the Swazi tourist magazine I’d received from the Embassy, I decided to head over to Miliwane Nature Reserve, the oldest nature reserve in Swaziland.

Miliwane is not too far from my house, just down the main road through Ezulwini, on the right hand side before getting to the Malkerns turn-off. I turned off the road onto a dirt road, littered with pot-holes. Entrepreneurial young boys stood with shovels, filling in potholes in return for a few coins. After three kilometers of bouncing down the road I reached the entrance, paid a two dollar hikers fee, and proceeded to the Rest Camp, where the hike commence.

Just on the drive in I was stunned. The planes open up at the base of Execution Rock, and Zebra, warthogs, Springbok, Kudu and other four-legged grazers looked up nonchalantly as I passed. I crossed over a narrow dirt damn with a sign reading “Fishing Prohibited. Stay Away From Edge. Crocodiles.” At the rest camp, I put a dollar deposit down on a map, chose the two and a half hour Hippo Trail, and set off. Just me, my water-bottle, a map and the nature reserve.

As I walked along, I surprised a family of warthogs along the trail. Mom and her four children stopped, and stared at me. I stood still. I was so close to the family that I was both excited and nervous. I have seen the YouTube video where the warthog beats the crap out of a lion, and was keenly aware of how alone I was. But as I took a step forward, the warthogs skirted away through the tall grass.

Walking by myself through the reserve was exhilarating. To be so vulnerable, far from any one else, alone and among strange beasts was frightening. I walked over streams and through thick vegetation, taking down at least a half dozen spiders’ webs with my face. I surprised some Guinea Fowl along the trail and a crocodile surprised me, sunning himself of the banks of Hippo pond.

About halfway through the hike I got lost. This time I was legitimately frightened. I wondered back and forth along the trail for about half an hour, trying to find which way to go. Finally, I had a revelation: I was not walking around the circular trail in a clockwise direction, but rather, counter clockwise. Luckily, I was alone, and avoided embarrassment at this mistake.

When I finished the hike, I returned the map and got in my car just as clouds were gathering dense and foreboding over the valley. I drove out through the gate, trading the zebra and impala for goats and cows. By the time I got home, darkness had fallen and the sky had opened up. Rain sloshed down in unrelenting baseball sized drops as thunder deafened and lighting flashed, lighting up the whole yard. I say in the corner of the glass-walled living room, watching the lighting touch down in the valley, and then watch the electricity slowly flicker back on.