“You'd better put on an old jumper as you might get some blood on it,” said our driver, with a grin, as we clambered into the Land Rover to visit the lion sanctuary at Legends resort, deep in Limpopo Province, in the far north of South Africa.
By Charles Starmer Smith. Published: 9:00PM BST 04 Sep 2009I laughed it off as casually as I could, before slipping on the most padded jacket I had. This was a date with a lion after all.
Sitting alongside the camera crew and my fellow presenter, here with me to make tourism videos on South Africa, I took solace from the fact that the lion I was going to visit was called Mapimpan, which means “little baby” in Shangaan, and it was little more than a year old.
The lion was just a few days old when Arrie, the sanctuary’s resident lion expert, found it wandering the roadside, injured and malnourished.
It had been raised with a view to being released back into the wild. It was made clear that if I wanted to go into the lion’s enclosure it would be entirely at my own risk. It was a chance I was prepared to take.
“You cannot show him any fear. And, above all, don’t turn and run. He’ll think you’re prey,” said Arrie as we approached Mapimpan’s enclosure. I gulped and nodded.
Arrie entered the pen, as the cameras began to roll. Heart surging, I slipped inside and the gate locked behind me. I approached slowly and bent down to stroke Mapimpan’s wiry underbelly. It pawed at my shoes, rolling on to its back. “He likes you,” said Arrie with a smile.
I began to relax, chuckling with disbelief. Then Mapimpan emitted a low growl as it circled around me. “Remember it just wants to play,” said Arrie, sensing my fear.
That was when the lion clamped its jaws around my calf, its teeth sinking into my flesh.
It rose on to its haunches, towering above me and I was spun into a waltz with a 300lb predator – as I pushed desperately at its throat to keep away its jaws. This did not feel like playing.
With a series of fierce clips to Mapimpan’s nose Arrie managed to get it to release me. I had to fight the overwhelming urge to run. But I remembered Arrie’s warning. So I stood there motionless, my heart thudding, my lungs gasping for air.
Mapimpan seemed to be more docile now. I exhaled with relief. But then it slipped back through Arrie’s legs, and was on me again, its teeth bared as it lunged towards my neck. I raised my forearm to divert its jaws from my face, then felt razor-sharp teeth ripping into my shoulder.
The next few seconds were a blur of claws, teeth and shouts as I stumbled around, helpless against the power of this animal.
Not a moment too soon, Arrie managed to free me from Mapimpan’s clutches, cornering it on the far side of the enclosure. It was my cue to leave.
A week has passed since my encounter and people ask whether I blame Arrie for putting me in that predicament, and my answer is still no. It was my choice to go in and it is an experience I will never forget, despite the stitches I needed after “playing” with Mapimpan.
In fact, I look forward to the day I can return to see it in the wild, although this time from the safety of a Land Rover. For that is the lesson I will take from this: too often on safari, tourists dismiss rangers’ warnings and get out of vehicles for a closer look. “They assume it’s safe because the ranger has a gun nearby,” said Arrie. “But they’re wrong. The speed and power of the lion is quite phenomenal – they wouldn’t stand a chance.”
As Frank Bruno, the British boxer, would say when he left the ring to be interviewed after yet another bruising defeat: I know what you mean Arrie.
(http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/6139806/Daily-Telegraph-writer-mauled-after-entering-lions-enclosure.html)
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