in more biodiversity than any other part of
the Greater Kruger, despite comprising just
1% of its surface area. Wetlands, gorges and
woodlands throng the map, giant baobabs
from some alien otherworld loom over the
land, and a feathered rainbow of trogons,
rollers and wattle-eyes flit in the branches.
So while the Big Five are present and
correct, if less visible than they are in the
southern Kruger, the joy of a trip here is more
about wallowing in the surroundings than
ticking off I spy megafauna. “This is the largest
fever tree forest in the country,” says my
guide, the unflappable Wiseman Manganyi,
as we enter a cathedral-like jungle of pale,
slender trees. He explains that early European
arrivals believed the ghostly trunks caused
malaria, hence their name, then his attention
gets caught by a cloud of scarlet-beaked birds
gusting through the woods. “Red-billed
quelea,” he says. “People say there are more
than 33 million of them in the Kruger.
They’ve been here forever.”
If the area’s natural history is a long-
standing thing, its human history is more
turbulent. In 1969, the Makuleke people
— who settled here from Mozambique in the
1820s — were forcibly evicted from the land
by the apartheid government as a means of
expanding the national park. It was only in
1998 that the territory was returned to the
Makuleke, an arrangement that granted them
a say over its future. They opted to maintain
its conservation status, later partnering in the
opening of Pafuri Tented Camp — one of only
two main lodges in the area — which is now
almost entirely staffed by members of
the community.
This back-story means that as we venture
through the landscape, there’s far more to see
than the fauna. “My sister went to school right
here,” explains Wiseman, as we stand on the
clay-brick foundations of what was once a hilltop
building. It’s now half-swamped by the bush
and vervet monkeys cavort nearby. “It was also
the church,” he adds, poignantly. Some 200
families were caught up in the 1969 eviction and
they left behind a tangible legacy, including a
former general store and a colossal baobab tree
that served as a meeting point for more than a
century. Today, the tree’s moisture-rich bark
has been stripped by thirsty elephants, but
its swollen trunk and boughs remain a valued
link to Makuleke heritage.
Exploring again the next day, we stop for
morning coffee at the meeting point of the
Limpopo and Luvuvhu Rivers, with the green
outlands of Zimbabwe and Mozambique both
visible across the waters. The spot, long known
as Crooks Corner, was once frequented by
gun-runners and illegal ivory traders, able to
flee across either border at a moment’s notice,
although today our sole company is a snorting
pod of river hippos. Just their snouts, eyes
and ears are raised above the surface, as if in
cautious greeting.
By this stage of the trip, the daily routine
of a high-end African safari — rise early for a
game drive, unwind at the lodge in the heat of
the day, head out pre-sunset for more wildlife
— has taken firm hold. Being immersed in the
noises of the wild and the earthy, herby scents
of the reserve is intoxicating. The tents are
spacious and ludicrously comfortable. Each
day at dawn, I wake to a knock at the porch
and a woozy welter of birdsong drifting alongToday, the tree’s
moisture-rich barkhas been stripped by
thirsty elephants, but
its swollen trunksand boughs remain
a valued link to
Makuleke heritageClockwise from top left: A white rhino
calf spotted near Marataba Conservation
Camps; landscape at dawn in Marakele
National Park, home to Marataba
Conservation Camps; a male lion, one of
the species carefully reintroduced in the
Marataba reserve since 200 0; guide Max
Tindall using a radio tracking device to
trace cheetahs