Through the drifting dust appeared an almighty presence of a large and confrontational Elephant bull. Struck with awe from his magician-like entrance, I held my head and chest up with false confidence while my legs started to quiver with fear. He was too close and I was unprepared. Behind me the Trail group glared at my dramatic pose, they had become the spectators of my spontaneous act and anxiously awaited the next scene.
Complacency is a feeling of self-satisfaction with a lack of awareness for pending trouble. It’s a sense of confidence that tricks you into believing that everything is going to be fine. No matter what walk of life we are from, we would have been humbled out of complacency at some point. The sudden realisation that everything is going to be fine, until it’s not.
All nature guides will experience it at some point. A few are even willing to share the story of when they suddenly realized their complacency. I’m honest when I say that my first brush with complacency as a Trails Guide was not just a story. It was a mammoth lesson, which forever changed the way I look at life.
We were a small and intimate group of only four Trail participants, the tracker and me. An inexperienced and overconfident Trails Guide, right at the beginning of my career. Our route took us through a stunningly monotonous area of beautiful Mopane trees. Bright green butterfly-shaped leaves hovering over pale white sandy soils created an almost hypnotic atmosphere.
After walking for some time, our legs became heavy. In the distance we could see a fracture in the horizon. A large Leadwood tree towered above the surrounding Mopane. This would mark the point at which to enjoy some rest.
During this extended break, the enormous Elephant bull had snuck up behind us and made his grand and overwhelming entrance. He was too close for us to reposition. We had placed ourselves in the late afternoon shade of the large Leadwood tree, whose gigantic stem would also act as our barrier or point of safety. However, the Elephant appeared precisely between the group and the large tree cutting us off from our point of safety.
We could do nothing but stand our ground. My decision unleashed the boisterous rumble from Nature herself. The sound vibrated through our entire being, almost demanding the respect that was not given.
The Elephant bull with his long, thick, and blemished tusks protruding from his elevated head, locked eyes with me, gave a boundless headshake, leaned his immeasurable weight forward and catapulted towards us.
Up to this day I am not quite sure what caused him to stop, but fortunately he came to a grinding holt, not more than a few meters away. I could feel the wind from his forward flicking trunk swishing past my face and the gravel, propelled by his boulder-sized front foot, ricochet off my worn leather boots. A further high-pitched trumpet caused the leaves to shake, our pretenses to fade and our ears to wring.
After what seemed like a lifetime of standing our ground, we slowly started walking backwards. Thankfully, the timeless Elephant did not move a muscle. He just stared at us with scolding and almost disappointed eyes. It’s as if he was the messenger for whom I had unwittingly been waiting.
I had reached complacency, a point of lost respect and dangerous bravado. Attempting to measure the success of my days with how productive I had been rather than how present I had been.
We slowly retreated further from under the Elephant’s locked eyes until we melted into the tangled Mopane and headed off in contemplative silence. This was not just an ordinary close call or me gaining walking hours and encounters towards a qualification. This was a profound and powerful lesson that Nature wanted me to learn, and she had sent one of her finest teachers.
– Leighton Barnard
