“The original concerts were nothing like the slick operation they are now.”
Elephant don’t generally get chased, but when they are they can be quite accommodating, providing there is a good reason. They are nevertheless quite curious and will venture only so far, before meandering back to see what’s going on. And what was going on was, for an elephant, a very strange sight.
Six musicians lined up, gently tuning their instruments and a harp being settled on a black mat. The soft pips of the flute could be heard against the backdrop of roosting birds and the silence of a setting sun, the rays caressing the bush like a loving mother. The huge beasts recognised that, for now, the surrounds of their waterhole was being utilised so they graciously melded into the bush, tearing some branches from the mopani to emphasise that this was their choice to leave, and not ours. But they didn’t go far and in fact last year, and unknown to concert-goers, remained just out of sight and enjoyed a musical soiree.
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