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Thanks to Alex Callen for transcribing this wilderness survival story.
Ingwe, one of the world's greatest wilderness mentors and storytellers, passed away November, 2005. You can read more about Ingwe here. He was co-founder fo Wilderness Awareness School and has story cd's and books available.
The Puffadder and the Birds, a wilderness survival story
Ndaka, an Akamba youth, came into my life when I was six years old. He taught me the ways of the wilderness, the arts of tracking and stalking. He taught me survival, how to craft bows and arrows, and how to live in harmony with the Earth Mother, but above all he taught me of the peace and spirituality to be found in the wilderness. He became my role model, my big brother. Our friendship grew strong as we roamed through the wilderness, a friendship that only those who share all can know.
One day Ndaka told me of a ravine where the cliffs rose high, and a small stream rippled over a rocky bed. The ravine was some distance away, so we would have to leave early in the morning if we were to get there and back before sunset. He told me how the hawks and eagles came to the cliffs to nest, and of the many animals that made their home in this ravine.
We planned to leave at daylight the next day, and that night I lay awake for a long time thinking of the adventures that lay ahead. However, things did not work out as planned, for my mother decided that she needed Ndaka to help out on that day, and that I would have to entertain myself. I did not tell her of our intended trip, for I felt that she would think that it was too much for a lad of my age.
So it was that on the day of the trip I set out on my own to find solace in some quiet spot where I could be alone with my thoughts. I was disappointed and angry that Ndaka had not been allowed to come with me, that the adventure to the ravine would have to be put off for another day, an adventure I had so looked forward to. So it was that I came to be walking along a dusty path through the wilderness, muttering to myself in anger, paying no attention to what was going on around me, and kicking up dust with my bare feet.
As I walked I saw a pair of fork-tailed drongos chirping excitedly in a small tree at the edge of the path. Every now and then they would dart out of the tree to harass something on the ground, but I was in a bad mood and gave little heed to what was going on around me. I have since learned that you must never enter the wilderness in anger, for if you do you will surely come to harm. You may fall, tread on a yellow-jackets nest, or walk into poison ivy. The wilderness does not like anger. If you are not to come to harm you must walk in a sacred manner, respecting all the plant and animal life that surrounds you and, above all, the Great Spirit.
Ndaka had taught me how to behave in the wilderness, he had taught me much about the language of the animals, but in my anger I walked thoughtlessly and in disrespect along that path on that day. I did not heed what the birds were telling me, and because of this I came close to terrible disaster.
Suddenly I found myself standing on the writhing form of a huge puffadder. These snakes are responsible for more deaths in Africa than any other snake. This is because of their habit of freezing when they pick up the vibrations of someone approaching, instead of gliding away as do most other snakes. Their coloration blends in so well with their surroundings that the Africans, who are mostly bare-footed, inadvertently tread on them and are injected with their deadly venom. Because I was filled with anger and was not listening to what the birds were telling me, I had done just that.
There I was, a young boy filled with terror, standing bare-footed on an African puffadder. Luckily, I had one foot just behind it’s head, pinning it down in the dusty path so that it was unable to strike me, but I could feel my foot slipping as it struggled to free itself. Just how I did it I don’t know, but somehow I had managed to jump up and land on the side of the path. Then I saw the snake lift its diamond shaped head high out of the dust and strike blindly in my direction. The strike fell short, but I was unable to take this chance to escape. I just stood there rooted to the spot, and it was only when the snake turned away from me to make its way into the bushes that I was able to leave the place where I had come so close to death.
On that day I learned two of the greatest lessons of my life. Firstly, never enter the wilderness in anger, for if you do you will not see or hear what the wilderness has to tell you, and because of this you are courting disaster. Secondly, listen to the language of the animals, for they will tell you of the presence of the great cats, of snakes, and of many other dangers that could be lurking nearby. If I had not been filled with anger I would have been aware of what the birds were telling me, and I would never have trodden on the snake.
The path I followed led me to a little stream where I sat down to dangle my dusty feet in the water. The coolness of the water and the music of the stream brought a great peace to a young boy who had been badly frightened. A tear made its way down my cheek when I realized how close to disaster I had come, but wiping it away I continued down the path a much wiser boy. That day I learned that experience is a great teacher.
You can read more about Ingwe on the Wilderness Awareness School web site. We will post more of Ingwe's amazing wilderness survival stories soon.
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