Within five minutes the cobras would be back, nosing their way onto the bed to settle around my warm body for the night. It was in those first frightening weeks that I learned to sleep for only minutes at a time, training myself never to move while I slept, and to awaken ridged as I was, not moving a muscle until I had established where all the cobras were positioned. Most were usually pressed in tight along the length of my torso, while others were settled under my pillow. Sometimes, most frighteningly, a few might be snuggled up a trouser leg. This dangerous scenario I later prevented by sleeping with socks on and my trouser legs tightly tucked into them.
Snakes in general, even highly venomous species, will not attack simply for the sake of doing so. Provoked or hurt in some way, they will naturally defend themselves. Lying motionless, I presented no apparent danger. The cobras simply crawled and pushed their way in under me as though I were no more than a log in the forest. The essential rule of course was not to make any sudden movements, and in my particular case, not to accidentally squash any of them when maneuvering myself off and onto the bed. Those first weeks were terrifying; thinking back now, it is just simply a miracle that I was not bitten within the early period of that crazy adventure.
It was of course important that my attempt at a world-record snake sit-in be well publicized so as to generate as much interest as possible; thus I was forced to endure continuous bombardment from the media. One morning, still within the first weeks of entering the cage, I was greeted by the sight outside of a television crew laden down with what looked like tons of filming equipment. Fortunately I had completed my ablutions for the morning and had even managed to rush down a bowl of cereal while most of the snakes gathered together at the front of the cage, eager to absorb the early-morning rays as the sun slowly warmed the earth.
Gathering around the viewing area, the crew gaped at me in open-mouthed astonishment. Unimpressed, I stared back at them. Never at my best early in the morning anyway, that day I felt grumpier than usual, having just survived a night of dodging cobras in the bed, puff adders on the floor, and mambas and tree snakes on the chair, where I had eventually ended up dozing until sunrise in an uncomfortable, upright position. I estimated that I was averaging about two to three hours of broken sleep each night, and this particular morning I felt it in every bone of my body.
While I stared at the television crew, an urgent rattle came at the back door of the cage, followed by a voice: “Any snakes near the door?” I glanced briefly in that direction. “No,” I called back, burying my face in my hands. Jack entered a second later, perky, freshly showered and shaven, making me feel all the more grubby, uncomfortable, and irritable. My little portable wash basin served rather inadequately as an all-in-one bathroom.
“Good news,” Jack spoke excitedly, pointing at the crew outside the front window. His overly cheerful manner immediately aroused my suspicions. Still gesturing towards the team outside, he continued: “This is an international TV crew! They want to film and interview you right here in the cage to show the world exactly what you are doing and why.”
I sighed. True, this was indeed good news. It meant that the fund might get a good boost once brought to the attention of an international audience. However, I felt little enthusiasm, only fatigue. Jack beamed at me, a smile spread all over his face. My suspicions increased.
“Exactly what do they plan to film?” I asked slowly. I knew the newsworthiness of my venture all right, but an international film crew, weighted down as they were with equipment, did not come all the way from wherever it was just to film me sitting in a cage of snakes. Sensationalism was what sold news, and I knew only too well how Jack loved sensationalism. Certainly I would try everything possible to interest the public in what I was attempting, but there were indeed limits. After all, my life was at stake here. Jack viewed things differently however, and he let me have it all in one fast sentence.
“I told them you were prepared to drape mambas all over your body and hold cobras and puff adders with your bare hands while being interviewed and filmed,” he said as he stared at me innocently.
“What?” I blurted out, shocked at his statement. Jack took an involuntary step backwards as I jumped up and got right in his face. “You know these snakes are still extremely nervous,” I said. “Handling them now means taking risks that could end this sit-in a little prematurely.”
Despite my icy tone, Jack remained unfazed and unrepentant, as though I had not even spoken. “Think of the news value,” he responded. “Our cause will be broadcast around the world!”
I continued to protest, pointing out brutally that, with me dead, there would be only one big news item and no hundred days. Blandly unaffected by my statement and with a shrewd glint in his eye, Jack quickly responded: “This could mean the first big step to a mate for Kaiser.” I felt all the wind drop out of my sails. If I was going to contest that, then surely I should not have agreed to start this whole thing in the first place. I went into this knowing there would be risks, and I had made the decision to go ahead, as I was the only one who could make this work. Obtaining a mate for Kaiser was in my hands, and it was something I very badly wanted to achieve.
So it came to pass that some forty minutes later I found myself perched nervously on the edge of my bed, gently cradling two snouted cobras and a puff adder across my arms while, from a safe distance away, using a long pair of snake tongs, Jack delicately draped a three-meter mamba around my neck. Jack was of course adept at handling venomous snakes, and I trusted him fully, as he did my ability to handle the situation. However, we were both acutely aware of the thin margin that separated ability from accident. One false move and all hell could break loose.
In the corner opposite me, squeezed back as far as was possible, was the cameraman, nervously preparing his equipment. Next to him, microphone in hand, was the director, carefully going over his notes before the take. With the aid of snake tongs, Jack had as best possible shifted all the more troublesome snakes to the far end of the cage, assuring the crew he would keep a constant watch on them while filming was in progress.
This was indeed a professional team; to risk the potential danger of snakebite in the line of duty was proof enough. Lights mounted on tripods were strategically positioned in opposite corners, ensuring that I and the entire cage were now fully illuminated. From outside the cage, other crew members operated a second camera that was directed at me through the glass. With me now covered in highly venomous and somewhat agitated snakes, filming was about to begin. The cameraman and director inside the cage were briefed on how to behave in these rather unusual circumstances.
“Make no sudden moves, no matter what happens.” Jack told them emphatically. “You are in no danger as long as you remain quite still.” Nervously they nodded, and the shoot began.
Having the snakes all over me was not a major problem. Keeping them on me was, as the powerful lights soon warmed their cold-blooded metabolism; I found myself desperately clutching at lithesome bodies as they continually attempted to remove themselves from my person. The more erratic my attempts to control the reptiles became, the more agitated they grew, and I could see a situation developing that was less than safe.
Eventually, having detected the source of the warmth, the snakes began to escape towards the lamps, some of them using the video camera as a handy bridge with which to span the distance. This came much to the dismay of the now wide-eyed, perspiring cameraman. I tried in vain to keep the snakes with me but within minutes found myself alone on the bed while the tripods and lights, as well as the cameraman, were surrounded by writhing reptile bodies—an unexpected turn of events. As we all stared in horror, one of the largest snouted cobras, a heavy-bodied specimen almost two meters long, made a final bid to position itself on top of the most accessible lamp, already laden with writhing bodies . . . and this proved to be one too many.
Jack, who meanwhile was vainly attempting to remove snakes from their close proximity around the petrified cameraman, realized
what was about to happen, and dived forward, tongs outstretched . . . but it was too late. Top-heavy with the added weight, the lamp, tripod, and mass of writhing bodies came crashing down onto the floor with a resounding bang as the hot lamp exploded, showering sparks, shattered glass fragments, and snakes in all directions. And my original fears were realized as all hell broke loose! Considering what we were attempting, with so many snakes and people present in such a confined area, in retrospect, it was naïve to have expected that all would proceed smoothly. That some snakes would take to the lamps, however, was a scenario that I had not even remotely imagined.
On the way down, cables attached to the tripod snagged the camera lens, jerking it forward and prompting its operator to grab out instinctively to save it. Overbalancing, he stepped forward involuntarily, only to find himself suddenly, in mid-stride, feverishly back-pedaling to avoid the mass of startled, angry serpents below his feet. Until now the director had remained quite rigid, either with amazing self-control or pure fear. Transformed now, however, he leapt straight up into the air and with a piercing yell lunged for the doorway, where he connected head-on with Jack, who was desperately trying to redirect snakes that were escaping via the same route.
Within seconds his well-planned film shoot had turned to shambles, with enraged serpents speeding around the cage; confused, frightened, and eager to kill anything that moved. And if ever a snake had reason to attack something, this was it!
The terrified cameraman’s feet meanwhile became entangled in the mass of cables jumbled on the floor. He toppled forward to crash down unceremoniously beside me where I sat on the bed with my legs held high in the air in the hope of avoiding snakes as I watched the pandemonium erupting all around.
The fast, erratic movements of the mambas attracted the cobras, who struck out randomly. This movement in turn caused the puff adders to flare up in anger, puffing and blowing, ready to unleash their long fangs with lightning speed. Terrified out of his wits and deciding that the bed was not safe enough, the cameraman lunged headlong straight out the door to land in a crumpled heap on top of Jack and the director, who were still struggling to disentangle themselves just beyond the opening, somehow managing to slam the cage door shut as they did so.
Oh bloody wonderful! This now left me alone, the only human resident in a cage filled with thirty-six highly venomous and extremely agitated serpents bent on revenge.
Suddenly, two cobras, one chasing the other, scrambled up onto the bed and came racing towards me. Still tilted backwards and holding my legs off the floor, I froze. One cobra slithered quickly over my chest, while the other passed directly between my legs where it stopped, head poised up high looking straight at me, as though seeing me for the first time. I held my breath. Suddenly my suspended legs felt impossibly heavy, but I dared not move. The serpent’s glassy little eyes seemed to bore into my own, and I could not help but wonder what vindictive thoughts may be passing through its brain. Then, as if having considered the possibilities and deciding in my favor, the hood folded and the head turned sharply away, disappearing from my view. Slowly, I let out my breath and lowered my legs. From outside the cage came a small splattering of applause, drawing my attention to the all-but-forgotten fact that the outside crew had been rolling a camera all the while.
The cameraman, the director, and Jack now unanimously decided that all further filming would be conducted from outside the cage, from behind the safety of the glass. I myself remained on the bed, quite still, exhausted and praying that the snakes would soon settle down to their normal routine. Ten minutes later, Jack’s head appeared through the doorway, a mischievous grin on his face.
“The film crew says they have some spectacular footage, but would you mind reenacting the part with the cobra between your legs?” And he ducked back out the door as I hurled a cushion at his face. I was not up for humor at that particular point in time. The recent incident could have ended in disaster, and I still had some ninety days to get through to achieve the designated new world record—plenty of time for more of Jack’s harebrained publicity schemes to get me killed. I lay back and closed my eyes.
A few minutes later I felt the first nudge under my back. Soon there came another, followed closely by another. The cobras were back, come to once more lay claim to their bed, to snuggle up cozily beneath their “log in the forest.” This was a sure sign that all was forgiven. I took another deep sigh and tried to relax.
Outside the film crew, after having collected their equipment, packed up and left, excitedly discussing the unique scenario they had captured on film (and the very fact that we had all survived it). The gap they left was soon filled by the first visitors of the day, who gathered around to stare in awe at the crazy man locked in the cage of venomous snakes, while beneath the bedcover the cobras relentlessly pushed and shoved their way in under my back as I thought to myself, Oh Lordy, why do I let these things happen to me?
As matters turned out, I eventually completed 107 days and nights in the cage, but not without a few close calls and one serious mishap. The latter occurred on day ninety-six, while I was doing a photo shoot for National Enquirer magazine of the United States. It was a time when I was close to exhaustion, having endured three months of living in the cage of venomous snakes with little sleep to speak of and the constant daily pressures of gawking visitors and the media. Of course this was all to be expected as part of the operation—and I accepted that—but this did little to ease the strain. Eating, sleeping, reading, writing, scratching, bathing—all were done in full view of the daily gathered crowds, with my only privacy being the few minutes I might spend each day hidden behind the tiny canvas enclosure that was my toilet. Even here everybody knew exactly what I was doing and, undaunted, waited expectantly for the “snake man” to return.
The National Enquirer photo shoot had gone well considering my state. Having completed a series of varying poses with numerous snakes, I was preparing for a final shot with a large snouted cobra, when, for reasons best known to itself—perhaps startled by a movement or the flash of the camera—the snake suddenly turned and struck at me without warning, both fangs penetrating my wrist, where they injected their deadly venom.
So close to achieving my goal of one hundred days, more than anything else, I remember experiencing emotions of shock and disappointment flooding through my thoughts. I had endured so much over such a long period of time. In spite of the severity of the situation, to give up now was simply unthinkable. Within minutes Jack was at my side, removing all snakes close to me with the aid of a hooked snake stick. After a quick discussion, it was decided that our stand-by doctor would be summoned to administer treatment right there in the cage of snakes, with the agreed understanding that I be removed and brought to a hospital only if matters deteriorated to a critical level. I could already feel the venom affecting my cardiovascular system, with my breathing reduced to short, sharp intakes. My eye focus began to blur, and I felt nausea setting in. Whether these early symptoms were brought about by a reaction to the venom or from shock was not immediately clear. I was acutely aware of the risk I was taking, but thoughts of my goal to raise funds for a mate for Kaiser loomed overwhelmingly, strengthening my resolve.
Fortunately, the antivenom, at the time produced by the South African Institute for Medical Research, proved to be a formidable product, and within minutes of its being introduced into my veins, I felt relief. In the case of snouted cobra, the venom is largely neurotoxic, with little or no cytotoxic effects to cause tissue damage, as is the case with adders. This made recovery much quicker, with less damage to my body. Two days later I was out of danger and declared fully recovered, though I was to be on the watch for any sign of returning symptoms.
A positive spin-off resulting from all the publicity that this little episode generated was reflected in the park attendance records, as the gate ticket sales soared to previously unheard of heights, with people streaming in to see the snakebitten “snake man” as he lay recovering in his cage. Suc
h is the way of human nature. Prompted by this and rationalizing the opportunity, Jack was not shy to subtly point out the possibilities. And so it came about that I announced my intention to extend my stay in the cage to 107 days. This statement was greeted with astonishment and surprise by the press and general public at large. One would imagine that spending more time in the potentially dangerous surroundings of the snake cage would worsen my condition. But in truth, after having lived for over three months in the cage of snakes, it was actually the more familiar territory. The prospect of leaving the security of my protected environment and daily routine to once again face the crush of the outside world now loomed as frighteningly as the day I prepared myself to step into the cage. I am ever amazed at how the human body and mind can adapt and grow accustomed to even the most deplorable of situations or conditions.
Thus it came to pass, 107 days and nights after first stepping into the cage of venomous snakes, I finally stepped out to the tumultuous applause of thousands of well-wishers and a horde of media personnel. Needless to say, champagne flowed freely and a multitude of interviews appeared in newspapers and on television news around the globe. It was indeed a time to celebrate and remember but—I swore an oath—a time never to be repeated.
To this day my record remains unbroken.
CHAPTER 5
A COBRA IN THE BATHROOM AND A BLACK MAMBA IN THE CAR
Reptiles—particularly snakes—are a greatly misinterpreted and misunderstood group, and it is largely a lack of knowledge that is to blame. Reptiles consist of a large collection of interesting, colorful, evolved species, most of which, contrary to popular belief, present little or no threat to humans. The fact that a small percentage of snakes are venomous has unfortunately precipitated the general condemnation of all the species. With just 10 percent of the roughly three thousand species of snakes occurring on this planet being potentially dangerous to humans, there is relatively little to fear. Of the thousands of lizard species on our planet, just two are venomous, with possibly a third, if one considers the toxic, bacteria-laden saliva of the Komodo dragon to be included. (The first two are the Gila monster, located in the southwest United States and northwest part of Mexico, and the beaded lizard, located in Mexico and southern Guatemala.)
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