There is a Rhinometer in the local newspaper. It
tracks the number of rhinos killed. It is the kind of thermometer you see
when people are fundraising, where you want the red to reach the top,
signifying your fundraising target.
Yet with the Rhinometer the red symbolizes the blood of rhinos, you pray it does not keep rising. We are
in Kwa Zulu Natal. On Monday the meter indicates 54 rhinos killed in the Province
and by Friday it reads 60. Despite the noble efforts of scouts,
agencies, concerned citizens, and conservation groups, the slaughter
continues. Each day we hear of one, two killed. One every 13 hours in South
Africa. A guard sits on a rock, holds his head in his hands, distraught.
These are the brave men putting their lives on the line to protect these
mighty mammals. Another day we hear from the head of security, 'We
just got another report, one is shot, still alive, she has a baby with
her.' These are the realities in the bush. Leakage points have been
identified at the Mozambican border. They move in quickly, well
trained, one shot, horn hacked, boiled to dissolve the micro-chip and they go
back across the border. Done. In 2005 South Africa lost 14 rhinos.
Last year 668 were poached, these are only the known deaths. This year the
projections put poaching at over 1,000, a horrific number. On our
drive out of a reserve we see two rhinos peacefully grazing. These enormous,
prehistoric creatures have thrived for centuries. We watch as
they eat, in silence. A rhino was poached that morning in the same reserve.
Watching these rhinos now feels different, sacred. None of us speak, but we
are all thinking about the same thing, their future, their survival.
