These are the stories most often told around a campfire, with a drink in hand and nature as a soundtrack. The tales are all true, but often with some artistic liberty. Names have been changed for deniability.
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We’ve all heard the stories about hippos. The most dangerous animal in Africa. So aggressive, incredibly territorial, no mercy. The apocalypse will no doubt be caused by hippopotami’.
The stories are loosely based on fact. Hippos do kill a lot of people each year in Africa, usually locals using the ‘hippo highways’ as shortcuts. There is a definite risk to doing that. For tourists, however, sitting on small boats on safari, the risks are low. It doesn’t stop the rush of adrenaline that comes whenever a nearby hippo disappears underwater. Much in the same way that many tourists will have a “charged by an elephant” story (when all it did was flap its ears), it also seems as though many tourists seem to have “close calls” with hippos. As they say, never let the truth get in the way of a good story.
The reality of the hippopotamus is a little different. Most tourists motor past hippos on the edge of rivers and see them launching into the water at great speed as they pass by. We assume they are launching into the water to attack us. Typically, they are heading into their safe space to get away from the real danger: Us. Despite formidable size, incredible speed and razor-sharp teeth these incredible animals are vegetarian, munching grass both on land and in water. The reason they spend most of their life in the water is for safety. This is from both predators and the burning sun, emerging only under the safety of darkness or in cooler weather to feed.
So, as I headed out on a river paddle in remote Zambia, I was aware of the overblown reputation of the hippo. I was escorting a group of travel agents around the country. On arrival into the Lower Zambezi region, I thought it was a good idea to take them on a bonus canoe trip. We would head down a little channel off the main Zambezi river for a few hours to meet up with a vehicle. We had supplies (food, water and gin), cameras and some guides escorting us. The head guide’s name I can’t remember. Tall, blond and strong, he looked like he had stepped straight from a ‘Visit Scandinavia’ ad campaign. So, for this story, I will name him Hans.
It wasn’t quite that easy to get it organised. I had spent the morning convincing the all-female group of travel agents to come along but they too had heard the “legend of the hippo”. I assured them that it was safe and that it would be nothing more than a scenic float down the river. So, in the early afternoon we met around the river edge where Hans gave us all the briefing. He assured us that he had done this many times before. With new confidence, we all went to our canoes with each agent in their own boat, accompanied by a guide. I found myself in the lead boat with Hans. Despite the river being less than two feet deep we wore our life jackets. Safety first! And with that done, away we went.
The first minute or so were peaceful with lots of bird life calling in the trees. With the gentle splash of paddles and the sounds of the African bush, I could almost hear the women relaxing behind me.
And then came the second minute.
Like most animals, there are particular ones to look out for. Across almost all species, the risk often comes from the mothers, the teenage boys and the old men. The mothers typically have a child to protect and so are more naturally defensive. The teenagers are full of bluster from newfound testosterone, but usually lacking in confidence. The old men are grumpy, wary of their diminished status and get annoyed at anyone disturbing the peace. From elephants to hippos to lions (to humans) this situation repeats itself. You read the situation and adjust your safe buffer zone according to the animal’s behaviour. But, no matter your experience, having an unexpected encounter still can be frightening.
Barely into our paddle, we heard a loud grunt echo from the river to our right. A hippo grunt is very distinctive. If you have ever been to Africa, you would have heard the grunting of hippos. For those of you who haven’t, it sounds like someone slowly laughing inwardly, but at massive volume. Rich in bass and very resonant, it’s impossible to ignore. We had expected hippos, and hippo grunts, but this one was different. Like most wild animals it is always a good thing when you see the animal before it grunts a warning at you.
No such luck for us.
There was a flurry of movement and then a hippo charged down the bank into the water, no more than seven metres away from us. After a loud slap as he entered the river, he surfaced immediately and glared at us. It was a young male, recently kicked out of his pod downriver. Because of that action or because of our disturbance, he was angry. The guides talked to him and tried to calm him down. He grunted again as we got closer, a final warning. The noise went straight through our chests, resonating in our bones. And then he did what none of us wanted him to do. He submerged and started charging towards us. I could see the large bow wave his body created heading straight for us.
Straight for the lead boat.
Straight for me.
The feeling was like, at top speed, slowly becoming separated from your bicycle. It’s the loss of control and the gutting realisation that you could be in for some big trouble soon. Yelling loudly, the guides slapped the water with their paddles. He stopped and surfaced, confused. He was young, and not quite certain of his dominance here. They continued to yell at him and he grunted back.
Meanwhile, a few metres away, I looked at him eye to giant eye and silently worked on my game plan in case he attacked. The plan was decidedly flimsy. The river wasn’t deep enough to swim in but was too deep to run through. The trees nearby were too far away to climb. I was very also aware that he could both swim and run much faster than I could. Hell, for all I know he was nimbler up a tree as well. All I had to rely on was the skill and experience of Hans and the guides.
It is odd when I explain to people that they told him to calm down and settle, like some over-excited teenager, but essentially that is what happened. He dove again, they slapped the water some more and yelled at him to calm down. He submerged again but this time stayed put, no terrifying bow wave. His bluff had been called. He had made his point and bolstered his ego but didn’t want to press his luck. Keeping a careful eye on him we floated past until we were out of harm’s way. He gave us one last grunt as we floated away.
I looked back at my group and saw multiple pairs of eyes as wide as saucers. It was like looking into a nest of baby owls. They had all seen their lives flash before their eyes.
“That was fun ey?” said Hans with a smile on his face. “What a grumpy boy”, another guide commented. With the tension broken, the group burst out in laughter and off we went.
Hans turned back around in the canoe. He was sweating a little.
“Sorry man, I forgot to tell you,” Hans whispered. ”He is always around there somewhere and sometimes is a little grumpy. Still though, phew?”
“Yeah, all good,“ I replied, pretending the dampness in my shorts was from the splashing of the river.
And it was all good. Despite the terrifying encounter, we continued down the river for another two hours without incident. Along that journey, we passed many more pods of hippos. But these pods saw us coming and took refuge in the deeper sections of the river. Sticking to the shallows, scraping the river bottom as we passed, we enjoyed the incredible feeling that comes from being that close to these amazing animals. With the forest on either side of the river, we saw elephants, buffalo and more coming to greet us at the river’s edge. We saw baby elephants splashing in the water, crocodiles basking in the sun and this incredible world slowly reveal itself to us. Hans told us he had recently seen lions drinking at the river’s edge and how they look utterly confused as a raft of canoes drifted past, unsure of what was going on.
And that’s the wonder of Africa. There is risk everywhere in our lives, from driving a car to climbing a ladder. Yet, with Africa, you can experience a sense of adventure in a world that in reality is quite safe and easy to travel through. Like anything in nature, there’s always a reminder of our place on this wild earth and how even though we control it, we aren’t always in control of it. However, surrounded by professionals it’s a controlled risk and one that delivers an incredible payoff. It’s this skill and experience that allows you to do the most incredible things.
A few hours later, the final bend of the river brought to us the sight of tables and chairs, set up on the river bank. We could see the white tablecloths and the waiting vehicles. We could see the gin and tonics and the guides waving us in. And despite the excitement of our encounter having faded, I felt as though we had all earned a stiff drink.
