Safari, on Elephant Time
on Feb 17, 2026Safari teaches many lessons, but patience is the first to arrive and the last to leave.
We set out early, armed, of course, with sundowners and that familiar safari optimism: today would be the day. Our goal was a perfect sunset over the Sabie River. Upon arriving, we came across a whole herd of elephants…
We slowed to a stop, the engine idling softly, and watched as grey shapes emerged from the bush like moving boulders. They crossed the road with unhurried authority, calves nestled between towering adults, ears fanning gently, trunks swinging with deliberate purpose. There was no frustration, no hurry to move them along. You simply wait. You always wait. This is their land, and here, time bends around them.
Minutes stretched as we took photos until we simply watched the elephants interact - some rolling and tossing dust over themselves in playful, effortless dust baths.
Eventually, the last of the herd disappeared amongst the trees, dust drifting behind them like a curtain falling at the end of a performance. We exhaled, smiled, and prepared ourselves to move on, only to realise the road wasn’t quite ours yet…
A lone bull elephant stood ahead, unbothered by our presence.
He was massive, scarred, and completely uninterested in our schedule. He faced us sideways, chewing thoughtfully, occasionally glancing over as if to remind us of who was in charge. This wasn’t a dramatic standoff; it was a lesson. The kind that says, slow down or miss everything.
So, we waited again.
In that stillness, the bush seemed to breathe louder. Birds resumed their chatter. A breeze carried the smell of earth and leaves. We talked about grass and the terrain watching and identifying birds. The delay, once an inconvenience, became a gift, space to notice, to settle, to be fully there.
When the bull finally moved off, we continued, slightly behind schedule and completely unbothered by it.
That’s when patience paid its quiet dividend.
Low to the ground, near an anthill, something shifted to the extraordinary senses of my tracker. I nearly missed his slight wave of the hand to signal slow down. At first, as we all looked it barely registered, a shape too odd, too armoured, too improbable. Then it moved again. Pangolin.
Time stopped in a different way this time. The pangolin shuffled deliberately, scales catching the light, utterly unaware of the rare magic it was delivering. One of the most elusive animals in the wild, revealed not through pursuit or urgency, but through waiting.
Had we been in a hurry, frustrated by elephants, annoyed by delays, we would have driven right past it. The pangolin wasn’t a reward for searching, it was a reward for surrendering.
As it disappeared back into the bush, I realised once again that safari isn’t about ticking species off a list. It’s about learning to move at the pace of the land, to accept detours, and to trust that stillness often brings more than speed ever could.
And patience introduced us to a pangolin.
Blog by Ronald Mutero (Selati Camp Ranger)
