I got butt blisters trying to be a hero.

Location: Zakouma National Park, Chad Feb 2014

It’s early 2014, I’m on an assignment outside of my usual stomping grounds but on something that I am super passionate about: animals and the environment. I was a biology major in college, focus on animal behavior and conservation; no I didn’t study journalism.

This was mostly a success story, of how the Zakouma national park in Chad, under the management of African Parks, managed to get poaching under control although the potential threat from poachers was getting more sophisticated. We saw baby elephants, and I died from cuteness.

More importantly, it was a big deal because the elephant population had been so traumatized by all the poachers hunting them down, they had not had babies for five years.

One day, we’re puttering around with the park director, Rian Labuschagne and one of the rangers and we see two guys on horseback who are not supposed to be there. Now the park did have a mounted patrol, we’d gone out with them.

This was not them. All I was thinking was “poachers!” along with “why can’t we just have a chill shoot”.

We chase after them in a 4x4, but these horses are flying. They are going to fast we can’t catch up and they disappear into the brush. Then we find a camel (stay with me it’s going to make sense). Ahhhh, maybe they aren’t poachers, maybe they are from the local community, looking for their lost camel. Regardless, they are still not supposed to come into the park on their own, they are supposed to notify and then come blah blah. So Rian leaves the ranger with the camel and the radio so he can communicate with park HQ.

We decide to drive around and see if we can find these intruders. Suddenly we spot one and the 4x4 takes off again. Before you know it, we’re in muck that just gets deeper. The horse is stuck; the rider jumps off and runs away. Rian tries to chase him, but this tall white man has no chance of catching up with the lithe and nimble local.

So, there we are. We have a stuck vehicle we unsuccessfully try to dig out. No radio because it’s with the ranger with the camel. We do, however, have a horse. Me and my big mouth pipe up with “I know how to ride, I’ll just ride back to HQ and get help.”

Now, mind you, unlike the patrol horses, this horse does not have a saddle. And it’s really skinny. And the bridle is just a rope. I mean I’m a really good rider, I once was floating the idea of going pro. I’ve ridden bareback loads of times before, no dramas. I’m hoisted on the back of this poor creature, I give it a gentle cluck and tap with my legs and it just bolts. And I mean bolts. Remember when I said the 4x4 couldn’t catch up? Yeah.

I’m doing everything I know to slow it down. Pulling on the reins is useless. I try to turn it (if you ride a horse into a circle it will slow down), the horse trips and suddenly I’m hanging off its neck, I can see the ground and the stones whizzing past and I’m having to make that split second calculation of “do I let go and risk getting hurt but there’s no one around or do I try to find superhuman strength and scramble back up.” I went with option two, eventually ride it into a bunch of bushes and phew we’re back to a manageable walk.

I head back to where I left the crew who were walking in my general direction totally freaking out that they were going to find me in a heap. I hop down and realize my ass really hurts. It’s getting dark, lions are out, we can hear them roar and we’re basically walking along with their dinner. Not good.

Eventually we make it back and my ass is killing me. I try to use a mirror to see what’s going on. Can’t tell. In the shower I put my hand between my butt cheeks, and it comes out bloody and pussy. Someone must look for me. I have two choices, producer Brent Swails or cameraman Ben Adams. They were having beers when I rocked up.

“Guys someone has to look in my ass.”

“What?”

“It’s all bloody and pussy in there and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Brent it’s you.” There is no way Adam was doing that and well, Brent at the time was junior to the both of us. The curse of youth.

Ah Brentie. Brent was one of the best producers at the network based out of CNN’s Johannesburg bureau. I did all my Africa stuff with him, we were super close, and really good friends, the kind that just look at each other and burst into giggles.

Still, I mean you never want to end up face down on a bed with a colleague having to spread your butt cheeks to see what’s going on. I couldn’t stop laughing. Brent was mortified and legit traumatized. It was disgusting. My butt cheeks must have cracked open over the skinny horse’s spine during our mad gallop and my even crazier attempt to stay on. I had massive oozing bloody blisters all up in there close to my butt hole. Poor Brent had to clean and bandage them for me twice a day. Me being me, I was telling everyone the story and one of the pilots said I should use Vaseline. Brent got spared, I could handle that on my own. But let me tell you, it sucks to be running around in that heat, sweating buckets and then have that sweat mix in with Vaseline and run down your legs. And I couldn’t sit down properly. I was miserable.

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Postscript: I find this whole story utterly hilarious. Brent doesn’t understand why I tell everyone because its so mortifying. There is a male horse in Zakouma named Arwa. Brent got nicknamed Butt Boy by his manager.

Here is some of the coverage we did.

Chad elephant poaching article

Chad elephant poaching video report

Coming next: That time when my mama blocked my live coverage from a firefight