judge me by (some of) the
companies I keep

MASIWA'S JOURNEY

as told by Stef du Plessis

Whenever the noise becomes too loud, I escape in pursuit of some quiet space. As I write this, I'm at the Tweerivieren camp in the Kalahari Gemsbok National Park - a magnificent stretch of arid desert land, which transforms itself to a lush paradise after the rains.

Having taken to bird and wildlife photography, I've learnt that there is no better place to hide than in the bush - in fact, if you get far enough away from the noise, you can even reach that nirvana where there is no cell phone coverage! Although, if truth be told, it's become a race between me and the cell phone network operators: the faster they expand the coverage area, the further I must go to find quiet space!

Out in the bush, I'm always reminded of the fact that it's become a bit of a contradiction in terms that we continue to refer to ourselves as "human beings". We should rather be called "human doings". After all, we're forever busy doing. Doing, doing, doing. We're simply too busy "doing" to "be".

Why outdoor photography - Well, it's this woman I live with - the one who gave me the best three things in my life: the band of gold on my ring finger, Dani, and Jessi. She also gave me back my self-respect. She's the one who proposed to me while I was still working at the gate. Me: the near school drop-out, who'd risen to becoming a gate-guard at a dog food factory. Her: recent graduate from medical school. Some match, the two of us.

Let's be honest here: she also has a down side. She has this toothpaste tube cap habit - although that's a contradiction in terms. Calling it a "habit" would imply that she replaces the cap, which she doesn't. Never has, and doesn't seem like she'll ever acquire the skill. Which, in itself, is one of life's lessons: don't sweat the small stuff. But we'll go there some other time.

She's into bird-watching - in a big way. She is now permanently attached to the looking-in side of a pair of binoculars. Not good enough just to know what the name of the feathered specimen in view is - she has to commit its Latin name to memory - and she doesn't rest until she knows its migratory patterns. In detail.

Not for me, this Latin stuff . I still look at the bird and go: "Oh, look! It's that pretty one!" But, as with most things, there was a way to make this work for both of us. Relationships are like that, you'll find.

So she watches birds, while I'm a techno-freak. I'm not any good with any of the gadgets, but I love collecting them. And by getting into bird photography I got to kill two birds (ouch!) with one stone: I spend more time with her, and I have indemnity to acquire lots and lots of fancy gadgets with which to zoom in real close.

But, for now, let's get back to the bush. Enter Masiwa. Last of the great African trackers. Direct descendant of a great Nguni chief. Illiterate. Wise man. Guru.

Here's some perspective: a while back I was invited to speak at the MDRT in New Orleans, where I got to meet Mitch Albom (also there to speak). OK, let me come clean first: whilst I only got to do an afternoon session, Mitch was a main platform speaker. But it's a bit like the Olympics - it's great being on the team, even if you don't make it to the rostrum! Anyway, as you probably know, he's the author of "Tuesdays with Morrie", in which he tells of the lessons he learnt from Morrie, his old varsity Professor, during the last few months of Morrie's life. It's a "must read"! Morrie was a wise man, who understood many of life's secrets. And while I don't mean to be disrespectful, I am compelled to add: Masiwa could have given Morrie a run for his money. Any day.

In my study, I have a wall filled with photographs of sunsets, which I've taken all over the world. Before we go any further, let me just point out that you don't just get to take a great picture of a great sunset. You have to be in just the right spot, at exactly the right time.

The Perfect Picture

The sun disappears in a matter of minutes. Very short minutes, if you're still panting up the hill to get the shot - or trying to get your fingers to do what your brain wants them to do in a desperate fumble to change spools. Although most people who see my sunset collection marvel at the spectacular sceneries that I've been fortunate enough to capture on film, I've never managed to get the perfect shot. I'm waiting for that one moment, when everything will finally come together: I'll be at just the right place... the clouds will be just right - the rays will fall perfectly through the gaps - illuminating just the right spot in this canvas of colour...

I've been looking for the perfect picture for a long time. I've sat for hours in remote locations, waiting for just the moment... and then, regardless of how picture perfect the shot turns out, it's always a disappointment. The people who see the final framed result on my study wall marvel at the colours - while I think: "Perhaps next time"?

Last December I added a photo to the collection. It's not a great shot, but not bad. Definitely no awards riding on this one. Sure it's a pretty picture. But technically, it's not great. The aperture setting was wrong, and the picture is grainy. The balance is wrong - the scene is "heavy" to the one side. The colours aren't great. And I should have changed the angle, so that the log in the foreground could have been cut out of frame. Now that I look at it, I also realise that if I'd waited just a few moments longer, the fire in the sky would have glowed even more radiantly through the cloud streaks.

It all happened like this: Masiwa and I had come across the spoor of a small pack of wild dogS. It was late afternoon already, almost dusk... they were moving fast, so we knew that they were getting ready to hunt. This is what I'd been waiting for - an award-winning moment in time: a wild dog kill - an endangered species - against the backdrop of a majestic sunset!

I'd never witnessed a wild dog kill - few people have. But I knew that it was gruesome: unlike other predators who kill their prey first, and then feed, a pack of dogs go into a feeding frenzy, attacking the animal from all angles, while it's alive!

We lost the spoor, found it, lost it. Found it. Lost it. We could hear the bleating of a herd of impala not far off - it sounds almost like a bark. We changed direction, and soon picked up the spoor of the dogs again. By now, they had split into hunting pairs. But the sun was fast setting - if these dumb hunting dogs didn't get it right - and soon, they'd spoil my chances of getting that picture. Masiwa could see that I was becoming very irritable. All he said was: "Darkness comes too soon for the hunter". Then he patiently turned his attention to the task at hand - looking for snapped blades of grass or other give-away signs of where the dogs had passed. I couldn't be bothered with his philosophical outburst of African Wisdom, and chose to ignore him.

Then we had sight of the herd of impala - they were in a large shona (a large clearing). Clearly, they were anxious - a particularly large female was nervously peering into the now almost dark bush. Then, suddenly- with no warning, we encountered a big lioness, just to our left. She was focussed on something else - and didn't pay any attention to us. We followed her gaze - and there they were: the dogs! She crouched, motionless. The dogs saw her. They were panic-stricken! They leapt into the air with loud yelps. This was my picture! A lion hunting on a pack of dogs! But there was too much going on, and it happened too fast - all I got was blurs. The lioness made a mock charge, which put pay to the dogs.

Joined now by another lioness to make up a hunting pair, she could refocus her attention on the impala.

Now we saw the male. Majestic. Powerful. He came to lie down just behind the lioness. I managed to get one shot of the two of them against the sunset. But it wasn't a great photograph - I knew that as I heard the shutter snap closed. Although we would probably witness the kill, it was now too dark to get a shot of the action. Damn!

We saw the kill. It was magnificent, being able to witness the flow of nature- just as it had been on these vast African plains a thousand years ago. But I didn't really live the moment - I was too annoyed that things hadn't worked out. I'd have to wait to get that perfect shot.

We lost sight of the lions for a while, and then came across the male again. By now he had taken the kill from the females, and was easily carrying the small impala in his powerful jaws. Making an almost fatal error, we got too close to the male: it dropped the kill, turned on us, made a short charge, and growled loudly - clawing at the air. Masiwa knew that we'd be OK - it didn't see us as food. It already had enough - and simply wanted to protect it. As the lion charged though, my focus shifted from having yet again missed the perfect shot, to considering the possibility of never taking another one again. It's all just a matter of perspective, you see.

Weeks later, when I finally had the spools developed, I was looking at the shot of the two lions against the setting sun. Not a great shot, but good enough to make it onto my sunset wall. Looking at the photo, I wondered if I'd ever get the perfect shot- God knows, I deserve it by now! And then I thought of Masiwa's words: "Darkness comes too soon for the hunter". Not only for the hunter: for all of us. Also for me.

Finally it dawned on me - I'd been so busy for so long waiting for the perfect moment, that it came, and went, unannounced. This was the perfect shot of the perfect sunset! And, hanging on my wall, was a vast collection of perfect shots of other perfect sunsets. Now I could get on with the business of living my life. And the strange thing is that, having now taken the "perfect shot", I realise that the rest of my collection isn't half bad either. In fact, some are technically even better than this latest addition. Pity it took so long for me to understand this. That's all it took: for me to decide that this was it - I could stop waiting, and enjoy what I had.

So this picture may not be technically great. Yet, it is the perfect picture. It's mine. I was there. In fact, I don't even need the photo - it's just a copy anyway. I was there when the copy of the original was made - and I can remember what the original looked like. It was way more magnificent than any guest in my study could ever imagine. And I can remember what it looked like in the moment. One day, when I can no longer see, I'll still be able to remember what it looked like. Finally, I could stop waiting. I'd found what I was looking for.

Perhaps the great sage who said that "fulfilment comes when what you have, is what you want", was right. And it took an illiterate tracker to teach me this.

Motho ke Motho, ka Batho

This Nguni proverb, loosely translated, means: "You are only a person through other people".

But we sometimes forget this. And there's good reason. You see, as we make it up the ladder of success, we sometimes think that we did it all alone. We lay claim to the accolades that attest to our greatness. And we think that we are self-made.

Yet, we are not.

Remember where you came from, and those who helped you get here. Remember those nearest to you, who sacrificed as much as you - perhaps more - to make it all possible. Isn't it strange how you don't realise how much something is worth, until you lose it...

There is another great African saying: Share your trouble with someone else, and it will be halved. But share your prize with another, and it will be doubled.

Eat the Elephant

"What do you mean"?, I enquire as Masiwa proclaims this.

We're watching a flock of sociable weavers make their communal nest. He adds: "They toil until their task is done - they do not lose heart, even when it seems like progress is slow."

"And", he continues, "you can eat a whole elephant. Just take one bite at a time - and then don't stop until you're done."

"Never worry about how you'll manage to eat the whole elephant. Start with the trunk", he says. "It's the smallest part. Focus only on the trunk - soon you won't see the rest. And what you don't see, can't scare you.

And once you've consumed the trunk, one whole part of the elephant will be gone. Then the law of the dung beetle will reveal itself" it rolls the smallest ball of dung that you can imagine. The ball grows. And grows" soon it is twice the size of the beetle. Just so, a tiny bit of hope will build more hope; energy builds more energy, and trust builds trust.

Look back, not ahead. See what you have accomplished. Take heart, and start eating the next piece of the elephant - then the next, and then the next. And with each bite, your appetite will grow."

It's true. Everything is impossible. Until you decide that it's not. So tuck in, and start chomping.

Oh yes- before I forget. Masiwa also says that you have to know exactly which elephant you're after - otherwise you'll just end up following the herd, and never take action. I suppose he's right. Again. Without clear goals, you ain't goin' nowhere. It's that old rule: Dream. Do. Have.

The Zebra doesn't care for Spots

This is what he whispers as we witness the birth of a baby zebra. Within minutes, it manages to stagger onto its feet - nudging its nose at its mother's underside.

They say that no two zebras have the identical striped pattern - it's like our fingerprints. And they believe that the zebra foal knows its mother by memorising her pattern.

"Now what do you mean"? I ask.

"Look," he says. "they seems to be happy with who they are. They do not look at their stripes and say: "Wish I rather had spots. They just are what they are."

And we humans are supposed to be at the top of the food chain. Yet, there is much research that indicates that all people are in some way unhappy with their self-image - some to the extent that they leap off buildings. Others to a lesser degree: "Wait!", they shout. "Take my photo from the other side - my left profile is so much better!"

When will we understand that our self-image is our most powerful tool - or our worst enemy? It can set you free - or keep you hostage. What you see when you look in the mirror, will determine the outcome of your life. And while we may think that our self-image is a picture that we form of our "self", it really is almost the opposite- it's a mirror reflection of what other people tell us of who they think that we are. And all the while, they don't even have a clue of who we are inside: yet, they get to mould our self-image, based only on their perceptions.

Break free! Stop believing them. Undo the programming. Introspect. Look at your past, so that you may learn who you were. Then you may be able to understand who you really are - so that you can become who you were meant to be.

You choose your own Path. Choose it well

Masia's words on the first occasion where I get to follow the spoor. Again, his wisdom relates to our everyday lives...

Accept that there is no better than here. Stop wishing for stuff you never had. Learn that true fulfilment is when what you have is what you want. Get to know who you are. Make peace with your flaws and shortcomings. Like yourself. And then get on with making the move from success to significance.

Stop blaming. Take responsibility for your own actions. After all, your life is where it is because of choices you made - or choices you failed to make.

Chietau Ombaze

While once in Namibia, Masiwa learnt a great wisdom from the Ovambo people. And he passed it on to me.

You can have pretty much whatever you want. All you have to do is heed to Masiwa's code: Live in the moment. Realise that you can't do it alone. Your self-image is your most powerful tool. Stop blaming. Take responsibility for your actions. Choose your own path. Stop living by accident. Live on purpose. And stop waiting for it to come to you. It won't. Go to it.