Injasuthi – Hair of the Dog, South Africa

Injasuthi – Hair of the Dog

The wild little dog snarled and nipped at my heels as I manhandled the two-man croc into the water. Overhead the clouds growled like a large, plaintive stomach as the Injasuthi river snatched up the rafts like small, yellow treats.

The well fed dog, or rather the Injasuthi, winds down the Dragon Mountains of KwaZulu Natal in South Africa and offers the adventure seeker a thrilling river rafting experience – if one dares to tempt the hound.

The icy water bit my ankles as I squeezed my rear end between the pontoon sides. I grabbed at the paddle and thrashed it at the dog to prevent it pulling me into faster waters. For now we were to SIT and STAY; to await the guide’s instruction to HEEL at his command.

One by one the inflatables bucked and spun their way through the first couple of rapids, white water snapping at our faces like many sharp white teeth.

A thunk against my helmet alerted me to a pack of local youngsters enjoying a bit of sport with the rafters. They howled and yelped their delight each time a projectile made contact with a paddler or when the little dog grabbed a participant and tossed them about mercilessly. Once the stone throwing had lost its appeal, the pack kept pace with the paddlers, trotting along the banks above, baying with laughter.

At the next rapid, the little dog swallowed the first raft, then the second and as mine approached the drop off, the remains of upturned rafts cycling in the water greeted me.

Panic!

My raft folded in two and spat its occupants into the belly of the beast. It was as if I was being pressed down by a giant paw as the pressure from the waterfall held me under. With oxygen being rapidly utilized through fright and flailing, my lungs burned as I clawed my way upwards through the water. I felt the graze of the emergency rope on my knuckles as it was thrown into the maelstrom. My panic swelled when I pulled on the rope and there was no pressure behind it. Discarding the flaccid appendage I managed to grasp a piece of nylon. Salvation! I hauled myself upwards as my life depended on it.

I surfaced beneath an upturned raft boiling on the surface of the tumultuous waters beneath the rapid. I gulped wet air into my furry lungs until thought returned. I was yet trapped in the obstacle and would need to push myself out from under the raft. It would entail me allowing the dog to sink its teeth into me once more.

Pushing under and away from the raft, my head pressed up against the underside of yet another raft. Clawing frantically now to manoeuvre myself past this impediment I felt the delicious relief of someone grasping my lifejacket from the back and physically prying the dog’s jaws from me. I was hauled unceremoniously out onto the rocks.

I lay limply, my ragdoll limbs unable to move. No thought, only breath passed through my body. After some time I crawled over to the small brown beach where I shook and cried weakly. I was determined to end this adventure; I insisted I would walk back.

The guides wore sympathetic faces, but in this corner of Africa, we were too far away from anywhere for me to consider walking. There were no roads for a vehicle to collect me either. I would have to face the vicious little dog again.

It was on that particular brown beach that I found within myself the courage to continue after being beaten down. I had survived the rabid dog without succumbing to its disease. I was after all: gratefully alive and breathing! I appreciated the sweet air I was inhaling and the firm ground under my feet. I was exhausted but not defeated. I could do this! I would call the dog to HEEL.

The pack of little boys had found my paddle. They quietly crept up to this now contemplative woman and held it out like a peace offering, like an apology.

I gave them a shattered smile and they gibbered happily away in Zulu – the game was again on!

There is now, indelibly imprinted on my mind, a certain brown beach along a fat little dog where I am grateful that I know my strength, my courage, my inner hero.

Pronounced: In-juh-sue-tea

Injasuthi is Zulu for the ‘satisfied dog’ as in: well fed.

About the author: I love my name Kerrith, but prefer to call myself Kerry! I have a healthy appreciation of how overcoming challenges in life sets a person free. Overlanding and adventuring through a fair bit of Africa, I’ve learned that unplanned events can often be the most liberating!

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