ACCORDING to wildlife biologist Joe Wasilewski, the black mamba is the most-advanced of all the snake species in the world. Its combination of speed, unpredictable aggression, and potent venom make it an extremely dangerous species. To South African locals the black mamba bite is known as the “kiss of death.” TERRY MWALE in a typical James-Bond-like-movie describes his dramatic experience with the dreaded serpent.
THERE was a crashing sound from above the huge tree under which I was sitting. In a split second, this was followed by a heavy thud on the ground, as though a heavy object had been hurled from the tree to the ground.
Instinctively, I looked up. What I saw made my world come to an abrupt stop.
My senses were numbed and my body system stopped functioning.
I was staring at an object that was standing straight on its tail; its black tongue was flicking out as though ready to strike; its big oval shaped eyes were rolling in their sockets and it was staring straight in my face.
I could not do anything as I sat frozen on the stool. Its dancing tongue and blinking eyes sent a thousand electrical volts into my blood stream. At this moment, I stopped thinking.
For a moment we held each other’s gaze as if we were sizing up; true instance of eye ball to eye ball. Suddenly, in a move that was as fast as lightening, the huge serpent went down on the ground. It left me gasping for breath. The supersonic speed at which it glided and pushed itself forward was a marvel to watch.
All this took place in one quick motion. Slithering on the dry ground and looking as if it was being propelled by some powerful force, it headed towards my dwelling place. The one thought that immediately struck my mind as soon as I regained my senses, was to arm myself.
In a few leaps and bounds, I had entered my house. I knew precisely what I was looking for and fervently hoped no one had removed it. I was soon relieved, for propped up against one of the corners in the dining room, was my ‘deadly’ weapon. Quickly, I grabbed it. Before long, I had dashed out again.
I had marked the exact position where my uninvited guest had taken refuge-among a clump of flowers. What I was debating about to myself was whether there was a hole there and it had gone in, which would make it difficult to flush it out.
Firmly, I held my weapon in both hands and with all the force that I could muster, I struck. Nothing stirred except the flowers. Then something sent me into panic. My ‘deadly’ weapon had disintegrated
into two separate parts; the broom itself was lying among the flowers while the broom stick was in my hand.
I soon realized how foolishly I had acted. Supposing that snake had reacted at this point, what would have been my chances of warding it off? How could I have pounced on an enemy I had not really seen?
A whisper far behind me brought me back to reality. ‘’There it is…” I knew that voice. I followed her instructions until I saw it. Its enormity sent shivers through my body. It was lying as still as it could along the wall of the house, just about three meters from where I thought it had earlier hidden.
Now, I had not only its horizontal, but full view of it as well. It was about two meters long. Its body was a hue of grey and black, at least according to my observation. As I backed away, I stumbled on something. Immediately, I realized I had an arsenal of more effective weapons around me than the disappointing broom.
The rear of the house was always water- logged during the rainy season. To mitigate the problem, I had heaped layers of loose stones, right on the entrance to the kitchen. With my gaze fixed on the unmoving reptile, I stooped down and collected a good number of my new found weapons.
My first shots, stirred my adversary to life. In a one movement that was mesmerizing, he stood up on his tail, eyes blazing; the tongue lashing out and its eyes blinking intermittently. I aimed again. It went down in yet another move that was astonishing.
The moment he went down, he swiftly slithered along the wall for about a meter. He was up again, never forgetting his fighting spirit intact.
He was leaning against the wall, head straight and ominously lashing out. From the constant supply reaching me from a distance, I realized my maid must have been joined by a friend.
I piled up pressure and attacked once more. To sustain my attack, I launched more shots, hoping to catch him either as he raised his head or ducked down. My foe seemed to have a perfect timing device for, as a shot was about to land, he ducked down at a terrifying speed, glided along the wall before he stood up again on his tail. Each time he was in this position, his tongue was out as though performing some strange dance.
I did not relent and kept on pursuing him. I knew at this point that if I gave him the slightest chance, he would do his worst. My technique therefore was to keep up the tempo. “Throw more stones,’’ I ordered my suppliers, not letting off my guard.
As my foe popped up his head again, I aimed and let go, but for that enigmatic ducking that completely took away my breath. No sooner had he once more displayed his antics than a series of blows followed him.
This time, I had changed my attacking tactic. I was now throwing my shots even when he was gliding along the wall. I was now becoming desperate at my failure to bring him down.
He had rounded one bend of the house and he was now standing close to my bedroom window. My heart leapt into my mouth because I saw that the window was wide open. If he got in there, it would be impossible to flush him out.
Could I hit him this time around? I wondered to myself. The blow landed far above his head. The silence that had characterized our battle was momentarily broken by the splinting and clattering of broken glass.
The window, instead of my target had taken the full impact of the blow. I was stunned. He had gone down, glided a few metres and round another bend. This meant that he had now shifted the arena to the front of the house.
By now, my energy levels were dwindling. I wondered how much longer this was going to last. I was panting, but got surprised at how my strength was replenished. It was as if some invisible force had increased my quantity of energy.
So the battle raged on with me as the aggressor. I was particularly concerned with the supply of weapons because I realized that any slackening on this would spell doom for me. It delighted me to see that the supply so far was sufficient.
From the corner of my eye, I could tell that there were more spectators watching this battle of wits. The question that tortured my mind was, why were they not giving a helping hand? In our African setting snakes are intensely detested.
An encounter with one meant that all the other people who were around would ensure a quick and decisive demise of the origin of man’s suffering.
By now I could tell that my adversary was getting very infuriated. I could tell this by the way he was now behaving! He had developed another element that initially was not included in his defensive style.
As he reared his head up, with the rest of his body stretched up against the wall, he moved his head right and left and stiffened his body as if about to take off.
This, in a way, put the fear of God into me. I was certain he was fed up with defending and now wanted us to exchange roles. He was bobbing his head even before the blows could arrive!
My blows rained around him. One landed just where a moment ago, his head had been. A very close miss, I swore under my breath.
His ducking once more was such a mesmerizing display of agility. Hardly had he ducked down and glided along the wall covering a distance of about a meter or so than he swung his head up again.
My body mechanisms were equally galvanized to match the tempo of his defensive technique. On my part, the onslaught continued with my weapons flying incessantly. My blows were raining all around him.
It was as if both of us wanted to get over with what we were engaged in.
I wondered if the epic moment would ever come. I wouldn’t tell whether it was the precision of my aim or a mere stroke of luck.
My adversary had just taken a new stance and had his head up-as usual flicking his tongue furiously and bobbing his head when he met his fate.
What I remember and vividly to this day, was seeing the slumping of his head as though in a bowing ritual.
It was an odd deed that I still do not understand, many years after that brawl. One lethal stone had got him on the head and I noticed that he was making a frantic effort to stand up, but to no avail.
Then I knew for certain I had dealt my foe the coup de grace. The weight of the stone seemed to have pushed him hard against the wall and the double impact had sapped him of his strength.
I stood watching him with the greatest relief I ever felt in my life. He was twisting and writhing from what I was sure was excruciating pain from the blow. I stepped forward so I could have a closer look.
“Don’t go near it,” warned a man’s voice. “It’s not dead yet!” I stood back. Overwhelmed with anger and desperation, I resumed my assault like a man in frenzy, raining more blows mainly to his head as
his body was so large and thick that a stone would have little or no effect at all. I hit him so hard I saw the head split.
Surprisingly, despite the crashed head, the rest of the body was still twisting and writhing as though it was performing some kind of dance. I wondered what powers were contained in that body. By now a large crowd had gathered.
The same man, who had warned me about the snake, stepped forward, a big long stick in his hand. He started to hit the reptile’s body as rapidly and as hard as he could.
More and more people were converging. My mind was in a confused state. What did they want? Had I offended anyone? I was engulfed in these thoughts when a group of elderly women started applauding and singing in praise of me. Why? A labyrinth of answers cascaded through my mind.
The answer to this enigma was soon to come.
An elderly man, probably in his 60s, came forward. A hushed silence descended on the large crowd. Again the question came, had I committed an abominable act? If so, what would be my fate?
‘’Do you know what you have done?’’ the old man addressed me in a guttural voice. My heart sunk and my knees buckled. Words failed me.
“This snake you have killed is a Black Mamba!” I stared at the speaker in utter disbelief.
The crowd broke into an indescribable frenzy; there was jubilation, ululating as I stood watching, partly in shock and partly in great relief. According to them, by the act whose evidence lay before their own very eyes, I had turned into an instant hero.
I was later to learn that the shrill sound emanating from the pump as I was inflating the bicycle tyre had been mistaken by my victim for a call from a female mate.
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