Never Have I Ever

This is a guest story (generously shared by Sharon Smith), one of the moments our guests bring back from the bush and are generous enough to let us share. We loved this one so much we’re making guest stories a regular feature — so if you’ve got a sighting, a sunrise or a story that’s stayed with you, we’d love to hear it!

Saturday, 18 July 2026

Greg and I had been dying — well, not literally — but we couldn’t wait to get to the bush. We’re beyond lucky to visit Rhino Post often (not often enough, in my opinion), but life and work happens.

Anyhoo, I’m digressing, because I really do have a story to tell.

So, back to that morning. We get our friendly knock on the door from our guide, Sorta — she has muffins for us. Greg is always the one to respond; I’m not a morning person, and he acknowledges that we are awake… well, he is.

He jumps out of bed and brings in the warm, delicious smell of home-baked muffins, and starts putting on “yesterday’s” clothes — don’t judge, it’s our attire for morning drive. I’m so snuggled in bed, this is a day off for me. Electric blanky is on, I’m toasty, and I’m thinking “uh-uh” — meaning nope, nara, zilch, zero is going to get me up for a game drive. But being the “pensioner” age I am, my bladder is talking louder than my brain, and I have a minus 5% chance of ignoring that, so I have to go to the loo.

As I’m having my morning tinkle, FOMO kicks in, and that’s me — decision made. Before you can say 1, 2, 3, I’m dressed in “yesterday’s” clothes, teeth brushed, deo sprayed, I’m ready.

We are first out at the deck area where everyone meets for game drive, like two eager honey badger hustlers. Once the rest of the group arrives, we all head out to the vehicle. At Rhino Post you get hot water bottles — it’s an absolute treat to have these on your lap, because when you’re first out of camp and that wind-chill factor hits you, it’s flipping cold. The plus side is you’re awake in an instant, and any thought of catching forty winks is long gone.

Sorta is bumbling along, and there are eager chatters amongst all of us, wondering what’s in store for the morning. Next minute we hear Fabian on the radio:

“Sorta, Sorta — come in for Fabian.”

I can hear the excitement in his voice, and I hear the Shangaan word for “lion.” I’m not going to tell you what it is — you’ll have to ask AI, or come and visit to find out and experience the lingo for yourself.

Sorter does a safe emergency stop, leans over towards us and says, “Guys, we’re turning back.”

Everyone is a little confused, as no one else has heard the radio comms. She casually does a U-turn, bush-style, and off we head back towards camp.

If any of you have been to the bush, you’ll understand that impala are particularly interesting but equally as boring, because you tend to see loads of them. Driving past them becomes the norm — in fact, we had driven right past this herd two minutes before, right outside the staff village. And this is how the bush can change in less time than you could possibly ever imagine…

Sorta stops. Now the impala have split — some on our left and some on our right — and they’re no longer grazing quietly. They’re alert, afraid, and alarm-calling. To say they’re in a frenzy is an understatement. In her casual way, Sorta says Fabian saw a lion cross the road, he’s lost the visual, keep your eyes open. She starts the vehicle and we slowly drive, everyone looking. Suddenly she and I both see something leap past our vehicle. It was so fast that we looked at each other, and she said “impala.”

My jaw hanging open, I think I managed a nod, but we were both convinced that’s what we’d seen. But guess what — we were wrong. Because there, once she had her prey, was a female lioness with an impala hanging from her mouth.

Within seconds the second female appeared, and they casually, in full view of our vehicle, started to munch their snack before breakfast. That’s how fast they were devouring it. I want to add here that in all the years I’ve been travelling to the bush — and it’s many — I have only twice in my life witnessed an actual kill. This couldn’t count as the third, as we never saw or heard a thing — it was way too fast. These ladies were obviously hungry.

We all sat and watched them rip the flesh and devour what they could, as quickly as they could. Then we heard the first whoop from behind the vehicle — incoming hyena. He’s part of the mafia, no doubt, in to take what’s not his and on a mission.

But suddenly he’s not alone — hyena come out of every possible direction. I kid you not, I think there were eventually eight of them.

By this time the lionesses had ripped what was left of the carcass in two and headed off in opposite directions, leaving the hyena to sniff and scratch at the scraps. One hyena managed to grab part of the rib cage, which staff later found on the walkway in camp when they arrived for the morning shift.

I can’t recall how long we sat and watched this. I didn’t take too many pics, as I was literally gobsmacked at the sighting. There was a really friendly chap called Yuki sitting behind us on the vehicle, and he had his hand on his heart, saying, “Oh my God, oh my God, I can’t believe this.” In all honesty, none of us could.

Sorta turns to us and says “WOW” — literally summing it up in one word. As all the action was now done and dusted, she said, “Let’s see what else we can find.” We were all kind of like, right, yip, how are you going to top that one?

And that’s the bush for you — one moment ordinary, the next utterly extraordinary. A kill, a frenzy, lions and hyenas in the dust — a sighting etched forever in memory.