Firstly Selomie did not pay me, my British Lady was to be funding the whole thing. So my loyalty lies with her. I worried about this right from the start, is this a “build guest house on Lodge care of Britain”? On pretext of making an APU? I keep these thoughts to myself and file them for future reference. The Mexican Way.

Because of the hills and the wind, Jan and I heard the sound echo and were in the wrong place, Lucas, closer to the sounds pin pointed it correctly but could not tell Jan and I in time as we were in a dead zone, no cell reception for some time. The farm behind us is not a game farm, perhaps they shot some pigs….

Point of this story? Any one that has worked with me in the bush before will verify that I am quite capable of doing this job, BUT, I am severely handicapped in my efficiency by lack of equipment and manpower. This was made glaringly apparent today. I need money to get firstly radios and then at least two more men, housing for them, food and pay. And a bloody vehicle to deploy them as fast as possible.

You can contact me Wayne Bisset. On facebook or email wvbisset@gmail.com if you would like to help.

The Hut

I have quoted on a few occasions about the journey of a thousand miles and that first step. I do believe my own first step was about 4 months ago when I wrote that post Private Military Company vs Anti-poaching. My, I did not know that at time, for every step forward I would take three back. However, as I am a tenacious little chap, not stubborn mind you, tenacious, and I had a lot of help from various people, I am finally in the bush, where I belong. The last Rhino Wars blog was a thank you note to all those concerned and another is due for those that continue to aid me as they can.

Now I have The Hut, as seen in the photo, my first BIG step. This is thanks to Salomie and Neil the owners of the property. Together with help from my lady in Britain we have a base and a two man team. Jan is the tracker, born and bred in the area and his knowledge of the area we patrol, is unsurpassable.  Jan speaks only Afrikaans and Pedi, so my rusty Afrikaans is getting a work out.

There is much work to be done and a lot of things needed to make this base camp, which now consists of the Hut, and that is about all. Jan and I can cover only a certain area per day and we shall need more people. Before we can do this we need to sort out a lot of things, my priority is communication, firstly radios. The radios need to be charged so we need solar power. Then we need to complete the shower and toilet and get water up to the hut, again using solar power. This is not cheap and we have to do it little by little. My lady in Britain is taking most of the burden of financing what we need, oh yes, she makes sure I get food too! On weekends Salomie feeds me. I have noticed that my intake of food has dramatically increased ever since I got my butt off a chair in front on this infernal computer and started patrolling. To my soldier friends: You get “gym fit”, we know this is a joke compared to “Bush fit”, but hell, here in the Waterberg you have to be, “Mountain Bush fit”! You are all most welcome to come visit and try it out with me for a few days, bring your own camping gear.

I will not give detail to exactly where I am, or what I am doing on an open forum, for obvious reasons. At this stage if you would like to contribute, either equipment or funding for this project or coming to visit, you can contact Selomie, on the Palala Rhino Sanctuary page.

You know I will use it well……. The first monertory contributions will be put aside for the purchase of a vehicle which will be used for rapid deployment and to extend my patrolling to the roads around my area.

Regards

Wayne.

Just so you know; I don’t ONLY think about Rhinos!

1. They will always smell good even if it’s just shampoo

2. The way their heads always find the right spot on my shoulder

3. How cute they look when they sleep

4. The ease in which they fit into my arms

5. The way they kiss me and all of a sudden everything is right in the world

6. How cute they are when they eat

7. The way they take hours to get dressed but in the end it makes it all worth while

8. Because they are always warm even when its minus 2 outside

9. The way they look good no matter what they wear

10. The way they fish for compliments even though we both know that I think she’s the most beautiful thing on this earth

11. How cute they are when they argue

12. The way her hand always finds mine

13. The way they smile

14. The way you feel when I see their name on the caller ID after you just had a big fight

15. The way she says “lets not fight anymore” even though you know that an hour later….

16. The way they kiss when I do something nice for them

17. The way they kiss me when I say “I love you”

18. Actually … just the way they kiss me…

19. The way they fall into your arms when they cry

20. Then the way they apologize for crying over something that silly

21. The way they hit me and expect it to hurt

22. Then the way they apologize when it does hurt. (even though I won’t admit it)!

23. The way they say “I miss you”

24. The way I miss them

25. They feel so soft

26. The way their tears make me want to change the world so that it doesn’t hurt her anymore….. Yet regardless if I love them, hate them, wish they would die or know that I would die without them … it matters not. Because once in my life, whatever they were to the world they become everything to me. When I look them in the eyes, traveling to the depths of their souls and you say a million things without trace of a sound, I know that my own life is inevitable consumed within the rhythmic beatings of her very heart. I love them for a million reasons. It is a thing not of the mind but of the heart. A feeling. Only felt.

Apart from setting up the camp I shall be rather busy, patrolling, learning the area from the Ranger and setting up observation post. Then meeting my neighbors in order to expand the area of operation. Small beginning but as they say, “A journey of a thousand miles…….”

PS No TV or radio post me books to read at night! Ha ha.

From Muizenberg I moved to Blaauberg staying with a man that I had never met before, soldiers network, thank you Ian. Here my lifelong friend gave me funds so I could eat and buy cigarettes, old soldier and Game guide. Thank you Mark.

I was told that I could get a job and set up a unit at the Rhino and Lion Park just outside Johannesburg. I needed to get there and a lady bought me a ticket to fly up, thank you Shirley. But when I got there I did not go to the Park as I thought! I was dropped off at another man’s house in Benoni, old soldier network; here I stayed for some time. Thank you Wayne.

At this time I found out that the guy that was doing, or so  I thought, all the paper work and setting up of the Section 21 company, was not 100% honest with us. The whole idea collapsed. In these dark moments my British connection kept the idea and momentum up, plus made sure I had funds in order to feed myself.  Thank you!!  Another old soldier also sent me some funds, thank you Kobus.

All the while my British connection was looking for an opening where we could start something to save the Rhino. I moved to Valhalla and was put up by yet another old soldier. Thank you Nicky. Then my British connection made contact with a lady that runs a Rhino Sanctuary, I had been in contact with her before but somehow we did not connect. My British connection, all those miles away facilitated a meeting. And so now we are here, my original idea was to do something Nationally, I see now it shall work much better if we start in one area and have a long term plan to expand once we have something set up and running. Just happens that the area is Dawie Groenewalts backyard……

Not all the people that have helped are mentioned here, but I am grateful for the help that has gotten me this far, I shall endeavor to do my best to set up something, on the ground, that WILL make a difference in these Rhino Wars, one step at a time.

Then my friends gave me an ultimatum: I had to quit drinking or leave the premises. I could not promise to stop drinking so I asked if I could store my box of wood in the workshop. This was acceptable and I was able to leave my few electrical appliances in the cottage too. I packed a bag, taking my patterns, a wood saw, small tin of varnish and some sandpaper with which I made two violins on the streets. Then I met an old friend of mine, Vince, he has a high intellect that is reflected in his piecing blue eyes.  He also has a “Mosses” beard that hangs halfway down his chest. He said he had a place I could stay so we took the money I made and bought booze. Turns out he is sleeping on the street too! Two days latter I found Vince dead…. stabbed to death for his cheap cell phone. I had to get of the streets and walked to a Christian Homeless shelter. They offer a safe place to sleep and some food. Not only this, the also offered a rehab program to help me with my drinking and would find me a job. There were four of us seeking entrance that morning. We were made to wait outside the gate on the pavement for the Pastor to arrive, not very dignified at all. We had nothing to do but chat and introduce ourselves. There was me at the age of  45, one chap older by a couple of years and two youngersters. One had a drug problem but the other neither drank nor smoked! The older guy had some military background, I saw this by the logo on his shirt, but he said he was into nature conservation not the army. The Pastor eventually arrived and “interviewed” us one by one. The youngsters got in with no problem and I had a bit of a hard time. The older guy got hit in the chest by the rather large Pastor and told that he looked like trouble. When he no aggressive reaction the Pastor hit him again and said he could come in but if he gave any trouble the Pastor would “moere hom/” (beat him up)

When I read the rules of the place I saw that one had to donate 40% of any income to the shelter and I mentioned this to the brother helping me sign in. Hearing a cynical laugh behind me and a voice saying, “Just like the Ark, but these guys must be better at it, look at all the Pajeros!” I gave the obvious unbeliever a dirty look he just smiled back at me.  The shelter is a converted jail and the dormitories are the old jail cells. Made of thick sandstone with strong iron doors and tiny windows, most of which cannot open any longer. The bunks are in a stack of four and there are six on each side of the cell. I gave my smiling friend another look, with slightly new eyes. He was throwing his stuff on a bed then pulled out a can of coffee, asking who had sugar? I happened to have sugar but no coffee. There was a kettle but the cells have no electrical sockets, one of the brothers told us where we could plug the kettle, he not only told us but also offered in a brotherly fashion to show us where the place was. While walking there he caged a cigarette of my newfound cynical friend. The electrical sockets were in open sided room; there were only three, on one wall one that had an extension plug in. The other two were on a right-angled wall, they had a large shelf, above that two sockets and a sign that said, “No boiling of kettles, ironing only. By order of Pastor Stephen.”  We made coffee and as it always is in places such as this, the scavenges appeared, as you see I have been in shelters before. I sat and chatted to my new friend, he had a few oranges and shared them only with the other two new men, both very young, and myself; he too must have been in places such as this.

That night it was difficult to sleep, the fact that a tiny TV was blaring, the lights stayed on and the cell was airless and hot were some of the factors involved. Early the next morning my friend was up and boiling water for coffee.  We had a thin porridge and, was it tea? for breakfast. Later all the people that did not have jobs, a day job outside the Shelter had to attend a compulsory daily devotion service held in the area where the sockets were. A cripple Pastor held the service, once that was done the main Pastor arrived and first was informed of all the people that had committed some offense or other. He shouted and hit them in turn, then divided us into work groups. All the new chaps and myself were put in one group.  My new friend murmured that there was a lot of unnecessary shouting done by the Pastor and his minions, they were more like army NCO’s than men that followed Jesus. So far I had not discussed my faith much with this man and decided I had a lot of work to do to get him to accept Jesus in his heart, with his cold cynical eyes I also knew that I would have to approach this subject very delicately.

Our work party was given a foreman and lead to the rear of the old prison. Here we found wire gate and a narrow path. A young man came to tell us not to go through the second gate until he had chained up one of the dogs there, apparently it was vicious. We all looked warily at each other. The second gate consisted of a wire gate that was so bent out of shape that it could not fully close and a wooded pallet to fill in the gap. The work crew consisted of the four of us that had arrived yesterday and; an older coloured man, a young coloured man, a young black guy and a beaten up looking older white guy. Most of his teeth were missing. The young man that told us about the dog went in and chained up a big black Labrador. The yard consisted of a huge pole and tyre obstacle course/jungle gym that was taller than the jail and about 8 or 10 meters long. Just behind that was a square fenced off area that contained two American Pit Bulls, one Bull Terrier and a puppy of unknown mix. On the left the sandstone wall of the jail building and on the right a chain linked fence topped by razor wire. A major road, dual carriageway, was past the fence.  It would seem that our job for the day was to dismantle this gym thing, the main Pastor came and told the foreman he should work us very hard, we were allowed to have tea at 11:30am and lunch at 1pm, the rest of the time we were not allowed to leave the yard. As the gym was bolted together we needed spanners, it took the foreman about an hour to produce two shifting spanners and a crowbar. My cynical friend took the one spanner and I took the other. The beaten up looking guy, let us call him Ben, took the crowbar and started attacking the one platform with a vengeance.  As we had but two spanners the rest of the crew could just look on. We started rotating the spanners as the sun was very hot and all but the black guy took turns. As the platform was shattered by Ben’s vicious attack there were pieces of chipboard and smaller poles to be cleared away.  Some of the larger poles were coming down they also had to be carted off, I saw that on the black guy had done nothing but sit on his arse, some worked harder than others but he did absolutely nothing. At this stage I should mention, I take Prozac to keep myself calm and I have not been able to organized any of the pills in the past few days, my temper was rising.

At 11:30 we had the milky tea and some dry bread with a half an hours rest. Back at the yard one of the guys sprayed the dogs with the hose, they loved it and it cooled them down. Worked continued until lunchtime. Then we   could have an hour off, as the poles and tyres were heavy we were all very tired and dirty, except for the black dude, whose T-shirt was still spotlessly white. Back at the yard the Labrador has gotten free, he stood pretty far from us and barked but his tail was wagging, I did not think he would bite anyone and crouched down and called him. He wanted to come but was too scared.

A while later to very Butch women from the SPCA arrived, apparently someone in a passing car had reported we were spraying the dogs with a hose! This to them was unacceptable and carried a fine of R500.00 as spraying dogs with water causes them to fight. The owner of the dogs, his wife and his son were called. The one woman took photographs of the child holding the puppy. We kept a surreptitious eye   on the proceedings. My cynical friend remarked about both the person that reported the “incident” and the SPCA women, “Some people just have not got enough shit in their lives and make trouble about nothing out of boredom, we should hand them some of our shit.”

He has had a few calls during the day and when I ask who is calling him, he tells me it is from a friend in England and one from another old soldier. He tells me he will not stay around here long.

I went to get a drink of water and the black guy was sitting messing about with his cell phone. I asked how come he got to be a Larney? He laughed and told me to shut up and push off. I then lost it and threatened him. His reply was did I know that he was a killer? This made me even madder, he has a flawless skin, I have a few scars from knife wounds, two on my neck and face. The foreman keeps us apart. The work continued, by 4pm those of us that had worked were exhausted and we decided to leave the last four poles for another day, Monday.

I had by now made friends with Ben and so he and my cynical friend sat drinking coffee and chatting. Turns out Ben has spent 30 of his years alive in prison for crimes like armed robbery and murder! I have never been in a prison, a lot of holding cells but never The Big House. Ben spent a lot of time in the notorious Polesmore prison and has all the Cape Gangster tattoos even though he is not a coloured. He also likes to smoke marijuana and we decided to get out tonight and find some of the weed. My cynical friends declines to join us and tells us that dagga, as it is known in South Africa, just makes him loose his legs, feel ill and sleep. He also tells us he will be out of here on Sunday, his English friend has arranged for another soldier to give him a place to stay, but the man can only pick him up on Sunday.

After supper Ben and I go to the gate, as we are new here we are not allowed to leave the premises for the first week, the brain dead guard will not let us out, but the main Pastor is there and tells the guard, “Let them go, they are not in prison.” Some irony there as this IS the old Boksberg Women’s Prison. We find a score in minutes plus a bit of cheap booze and go to the lake to smoke and drink. Half of the Shelter’s people are there, doing exactly what we are! Later we all go back and the place is full up with people that are either drunk or high, more likely both. My cynical friend looks even more angry and cynical than usual, if that is possible. Not a good time to try convert him to Jesus, I think. I get into a fight with someone in the toilets, he is all mouth and quickly folds, the Pastor on duty just sits inside the Library playing games on his computer, maybe my cynical friend is right, these people do not care about really helping anyone but themselves, he maintains that as long as the person goes to work on Monday, pays his 40% on Friday they are quite content. The forcing everyone to attend daily devotion and the mass bussing of the people to various churches on Sunday is just a show so the donations come in, money for jam.  And Pajeros.

Saturday morning. A lot of grumpy people, some still drunk and/or high. The main Pastor holds the service; he says nothing about what transpired in the night or the condition of his flock this morning. We do clean up detail and the rest of the day is ours. As we need smokes my cynical friend and I waltz through the gate followed by a long term, a few years, inmate follows us, he actually sleeps in the bunk above mine and is smoked up constantly. He joins us and him and I decide to make a score, buy some weed. I speak to my cynical friend about Jesus, telling him that other people and what they think are not important, neither is which church you attend, it is your personal relationship with Jesus that counts. He says nothing, just buys us an apple each from a street vendor.  We go down to the lake and as last night many of the inmates, learned to call them that from my friend, are there. There is beer, cheap spirits and dagga in abundance. My cynical friend tells me how his friend’s wife prays for drugs or money to by drugs for “her man” and how He provides every time.  Then how she yells, “Praise the Lord!” He does not come right out and say it but I can see what he is getting at. He gets offered all the stuff mentioned but declines, asking what time lunch is? This is unusual as he eats very little, giving myself and the one other young guy we came in with most of his food. We think it is at 1pm and leave in time to have lunch, but when we get there the kitchen is closed. They ate at 12pm, I steal some bread and share it with my cynical friend. He is still getting SMS’s and calls from England, or he claims that are from England. I ask him about it and he tells me that the lady in England always is true to her word and she will get him out of here. The other old soldier has phoned him once again, he tells me the man says he has an anti-poaching job and he was waiting for the guy to call him back. I told him that I can see he does not fit in here, I know how to operate in this environment but with all his cynical outward show he was to trusting and too soft, then I gave him a lecture about how he gives all his cigarettes away and how the people that he gives to, none will return the favour.  He said, “I know.”

Saturday afternoon I slept, I actually slept till early evening. Then I met up with Ben and we organized some stuff to numb our brains a bit, like most of the inmates. My cynical friend was busy on his phone most of the time; he was determined to leave this place and it seems he had people that were as determined to get him out. He mentions that he has never met these people, just knows them from Facebook and some pages he belongs to. I tried to speak about religion and Jesus to him and all he did was point out what he saw around him. He asked if I knew what the shortest verse in the Bible was? I did not. He told me, “Jesus wept.” I asked what Scripture it was. He replied he had forgotten, but if I looked I would find it. Later that evening a kid came back, very, very drugged up. He mad a nuisance of himself and when everyone was trying to sleep, the light and TV were actually off for once, he kept sitting up and shouting gibberish. Eventually I heard a quiet voice coming from the bunk below his. It said, “I have had enough of your shit, I am asking you politely, shut up and stop bouncing this bunk about. If you do not I will come up there and break your fucking neck.” The cynical friend was not so soft after all. The kid must have believed him because he stopped his nonsense and we all thought that was that. However at approximately 1:30am the lights snapped on and the kid burst in shouting, followed by two of the Shelters security guys. He was claiming someone in the dorm had grabbed him, held a knife at his throat and taken his cell phone. A lot of noise and palaver with the kid looking to see if he could recognize his attacker. The guy that was supposed to be the “Leader” of the dorm fell out of bed and started shouting too. He was upset the kid called security and did not tell him about the incident first, as he grabbed for the kid, the kid fled. Things quieted down, the security left and the lights went out again.

But it was far from over about a half an hour later the kid rushes in again, this time followed by not only the Shelters security but the South African police too! One is caring a machinegun. My cynical friend informed me later it was not a machinegun, it was an assault rifle called an R5. The situation breaks down further, we are ordered by the police to get off of our bunks and line up. How can they take this little goofball seriously? The “Leader” makes another grab at the kid a policeman shoves him back. The kid peers at all our faces. My cynical friend points out he should know if the person was black or white, even in the dark we sort of stand out differently.  One black policeman finds this very funny. Finally the police and security leave taking the kid with, for his own safety. The kettle is put on and a lot of babbling starts.  Finally we all go back to sleep.

Sunday morning. We all get up later than usual. There is tea early than usual; I suppose this is because everyone must be ready to go to church by 8:30am. Everybody. I speak to my cynical friend, I offer him my wooden cross, he thanks me but says I need it more than him. I then ask him if I can give him my bank detail and if he comes right will he put some money in my account? He tells me the way his life has gone the last few months he is not hopeful of coming right in the near future but to give him the details. The main Pastor comes past, chasing the people to the buses, he sees my friend and shouts, “I thought you were leaving brother?” My friend mumbles, “I am not your fucking brother.” Then loader says, “I am on my way.” The Pastor shouts at him to hurry up. I say goodbye to my cynical friend and go get on the bus that will take me to church and be one of the crowd that will make the Pastor richer than he already is. I wonder……

October  16, 2011

This caused problems, they care not about the rhino, just want to get their hands on the money. I think this is what happened to LAPS. Leeway Anti Poaching Unit

Vincent Stewart whom I “met” on a page in facebook saw what I was trying to do . He offered to set up a Section 21 Company for us. I graciously accept his offer as I am no paper pusher. He started feeding me information on how it was progressing and I passed this along in good faith.

Then Vincent got caught in a lie. He was telling people that he was paying me R2000.00 a month. The people that I stay with are also on the facebook pages and saw this. Once called on the lie a lot of other lies came out. Then the man began slandering me shamelessly! Eish!

He then withdrew from LAPS.  Just there is no LAPS, he lied when he said the Company was registered. In fact he has lied about everything, the equipment, the paperwork, the contracts.

There is another man that has assured me he has the weapons and the paperwork necessary for us to transport and carry said weapons. He is always “just too” busy to talk to me. All things considered ,  I am wary to believe anything right now. All I do know is: I have the CV of a lot of good men, and I am willing to carry on trying.

I am devastated that such a fine concept had to end this way. The only apology I would like to make is to the people that thought we would get work, and to the people that have given me so much support. The apology is for been such a dumb, naïve F-ing idiot.  So I disassociate myself from both LAPS and Vincent Stewart. Any queries about them can be addressed to:

Vincent Stewart

083 259 4220

blueleader62@yahoo.com.au or rhinolaps@gmail.com or vandcstamps@gmail.com

http://www.facebook.com/vincent.stewart3

My mission remains the same though; I want to do something about the plight of our rhino. I will just find another way. 

PS.

Regards,

Wayne Bisset

Extremely Important!!!

Please read this link after finishing this one.

The Raise and Fall of LAPS

“Poaching in South Africa has reached “epidemic” proportions with the almost daily slaughter of our natural resources and future generations heritage.”

Michael da Silver Member of LAPS.

If we don’t step up and do something now, we will all but witness the extinction of big game as we know it and be collectively responsible for allowing the butchery to have happened unabated. The time has come to take a stand and change the way we approach the “disease” that is poaching and also get up and stand unified in the fight against the senseless killing of our big game.

Rhino LAPS is not a new concept, we are not selling a new product nor are we claiming to have all the answers to poaching. What we do stand for is a new approach to the anti poaching industry through proactive actions as opposed to purely reactionary. This is , we are not merely here to keep a tally of the already slaughtered animals but to actively investigate , interact and pursue those guilty of propagating the slaughter. We propose to install teams on the ground that can investigate and interview all those personnel that could be open to collusion with poaching syndicates, interact with the local population through a hearts and minds program to gleam information on the movement and intentions of potential poachers in the area, the pursuit and arrest of the poaching “foot soldiers” for questioning and intelligence gathering of those individuals bank rolling the poaching operations and finally to ensure the intelligence gathered be disseminated to the relevant authorities for further investigation and arrests. The “organizers” of the poaching groups must be identified and brought into the public arena. The need for affecting arrests of poachers is of utmost importance for a successful outcome and imprisonment of guilty parties.  This task will not be without its dangers and therefore dedicated, loyal and previously trained professionals will be utilized in the field. We are not a military/militant unit but will if the needs arise defend ourselves within the constraints of the laws governing the republic. We are average ex military personnel who have decided to stand up for our natural heritage and do something about the senseless slaughter of Rhino’s within our countries borders. This will be a daunting task and will be both physically and mentally/spiritually demanding on the members of the anti poaching teams who are under no illusions as to the discomfort, dangers and distances they will be from their own loved ones. The reality of the situation is that if we don’t do something immediately to stem this eradication of our big game we will have nothing to show our future generations other than pictures in books.

It is time we stand up and do something and that is what we as Rhino LAPS propose to do. We are leaving the safety and comfort of our homes and online discontent pertaining to the poaching dilemma and are physically moving into the field to meet the challenge head on. I have stated before that we are not a militant unit but we are under no misgivings that there is a very real risk to the unit and will defend ourselves within the legal framework. Our mission is to arrest those involved in the on the ground killing with the sole purpose of garnering information of those higher up the ladder and ultimately bring them to justice. Poaching is big business and therefore we aim to eat at the bottom line, this is; make it a non profitable enterprise for the poaching “bosses”. A business’s sole purpose is to generate profits and if we can hamper the profitability of the business it will cease to exist. We are under no illusions that this is not going to be an easy task or walk in the park and that the teams lives could invariably be threatened but it is something each member will fully understand and accept. We are doing this for more than financial gain. Our natural heritage is at stake.

Rhino LAPS.( Leeways Anti Poaching Syndicate)

Our name may be controversial, however it takes a syndicate mind set to tackle a syndicate. Our members are all ex military and thus will be fully able to conduct themselves in the field if the need arise.

I reiterate: We are not a mercenary outfit and will operate within the laws of the country.

written up by Michael da Silva.

More info on LAPS:

How LAPS will stop the Rhino Poaching