Memorable moments: Three times I nearly became part of the food chain

I love wildlife reserves. There’s something magical about them—vast landscapes, incredible animals… and the constant, underlying possibility that something might kill you. From the deserts of Botswana to the shower blocks of South Africa, these three encounters taught me that nature doesn't care about your dignity, your itinerary, or your rental car’s insurance excess.

The Botswana Scorpion Siege

At sixteen, I learned that Botswana doesn't just have sunsets; it has traps. When our tyre exploded in the pitch-black desert on the way to the Okavango, we had no choice but to pitch tents by the roadside. As we fumbled in the dark, someone casually remarked that something "soft and tickly" had just brushed his bare foot. I realized, with a sudden jolt of electricity, that I’d felt the same thing.

We flicked on the torches, and the ground didn't just move—it heaved. It was like the snake pit in Indiana Jones, only the snakes had been replaced by a carpet of scorpions the size of human hands, all tails up and ready for war.

We immediately initiated a frantic "military operation" to reclaim our territory, shaking scorpions out of tents and—to our horror—finding them already nestled in our sleeping bags. In the ensuing struggle, we suffered one very unfortunate casualty: a sting to a little toe.

The "surgery" that followed was pure frontier melodrama. With a twig between his teeth for the pain and two pretty girls holding his hands for moral support, his toe was sliced open with a sterilized blade. I’m still not sure what hurt him more—the venom or the fact that his life was in the hands of a group of teenagers with a campfire aesthetic and a very sharp knife.

The Mkuzi Naked Exodus

Years later, I was heading for a quiet shower at Mkuzi National Park. I was five metres from the block when the screaming started. Suddenly, naked bodies began flying out of windows and doors like a synchronized swimming routine gone horribly wrong.

The cause? A Black Mamba. It’s one thing to face a predator when you’re armed and booted; it’s quite another when you are at your most vulnerable, clutching a towel and a bar of soap, facing a snake that can outrun a professional sprinter.

The Kruger Standoff

Finally, there was the Elephant. With the Kruger gates closing in twenty minutes and a hefty fine looming, I found my path blocked by a massive bull elephant munching on a freshly toppled tree.

Every time I edged the car forward, he stopped eating and flared his ears—the elephant equivalent of a "Keep Off the Grass" sign backed by lethal force. It was a choice between a one-hour detour or a leap of faith. Reminding myself that fortune favours the brave (and the budget-conscious), I floored it.

As I sped past, I could swear he feigned a lunge with his tusks. I didn't look back to check. I was too busy calculating the insurance excess on a "tusk-shaped hole" in a rental car door.

I’ve since learned that several motorists have had their cars flipped by those very bulls. If I’d known that then, I probably would have just paid the fine—or moved into the park permanently.