Paul Templer was living his best life. At 28, he was conducting photographic safaris in his native Zimbabwe, a career he’d embraced after a stint in the British army and years of travel. He’d returned to Africa’s bush country “and fell back in love with it. The wildlife, the flora, the fauna, the great outdoors, the space – just everything about it. I was at home,” he told CNN Travel.
Templer said Zimbabwe’s guide certification program was rigorous, instilling a sense of pride among those who passed. He relished sharing the area’s majestic wildlife with tourists – including the often-territorial hippopotamus. “It was idyllic,” he said. “Life was really, really good – until one day I had a really bad day at the office.”
That day was March 9, 1996. Templer learned a friend was ill with malaria and unable to lead a scheduled canoe safari down the Zambezi River. He agreed to accept his place. “I loved that stretch of the river. It was an area I know like the back of my hand.” The expedition included six safari clients – four Air France crewmembers and a German couple – three apprentice guides, and Templer himself. They navigated the river in three canoes, with clients in the first two and a guide in the back, and one apprentice guide in a single-person safety kayak.
Initially, the trip went smoothly. “Things were going the way they were supposed to go. Everyone was having a pretty good time.” They encountered a pod of about a dozen hippos, a common sight on the Zambezi. Templer attempted to steer the group around the animals, but the third canoe fell behind and drifted off course.
“Suddenly, there’s this substantial thud. And I see the canoe, like the back of it, catapulted up into the air. And Evans, the guide in the back of the canoe, catapulted out of the canoe,” Templer recalled. The clients remained in the canoe. Evans was swept toward a mother hippo and her calf, roughly 150 meters away. Templer immediately turned to facilitate, instructing another guide, Ben, to secure the clients on a rock in the middle of the river, inaccessible to hippos.
As Templer paddled toward Evans, he noticed a “bow wave” approaching. He suspected either a hippo or a large crocodile. Remembering that a loud noise could deter the animal, he slapped the water with his paddle, momentarily stopping the wave. He continued toward Evans, but they were drawing closer to the female and her calf. “I’m leaning over – it’s kind of a made-for-Hollywood movie – Evans is reaching up. … Our fingers almost touched. And then the water between us just erupted.”
What followed was a terrifying ordeal. “My world went dark and strangely quiet,” Templer said. He quickly realized he was partially submerged, with his lower body in the water and his upper body enveloped by something warm, and constricting. “I was up to my waist down a hippo’s throat.” The hippo spat him out, but then attacked again, inflicting severe injuries. He was pulled under a second time, his legs trapped while his hands were free. He attempted to reach for his gun, but the violent thrashing prevented him. The hippo then attacked a third time, clamping down with immense force.
“For me, fortunately everything was happening in slow motion. So when he’d go under water, I’d hold my breath. When we were on the surface, I would take a deep breath and I would try to hold onto tusks that were boring through me,” Templer said. He described the attack as resembling a “vicious dog trying to rip apart a rag doll.”
Apprentice guide Mack, in the safety kayak, risked his life to reach Templer, pulling him to safety on the same rock where the clients were waiting. Evans Namasango, however, was nowhere to be found. His body was discovered two days later, approximately one kilometer from where the attack began. Authorities determined he had drowned, with no evidence of further animal involvement.
Templer sustained 38 serious bite injuries, a degloving injury to his left arm from the elbow down, a punctured lung, and a torn Achilles tendon. It took eight hours to transport him to a hospital near Bulawayo. Doctors initially believed he would lose both arms and a leg, but ultimately saved his right arm and both legs, amputating his left arm at the elbow.
After the attack, Templer underwent months of physical and occupational therapy in Zimbabwe and the United Kingdom. He eventually returned to the United States, married the sister of a journalist who had covered the Zambezi trip, and wrote a book, “What’s Left of Me.” He now works as a speaker and entrepreneur.
Experts emphasize the importance of caution around hippos. Rebecca Lewison, a conservation ecologist at San Diego State University, explained that hippos don’t typically hunt humans, but attack to defend their territory. Philip Muruthi, chief scientist at the African Wildlife Foundation, advised following the guidance of professional tour guides and avoiding encroachment on hippo territory. Hippos can run up to 30 mph, making escape nearly impossible. If attacked, experts recommend fighting for survival and attempting to target sensitive areas like the eyes, though the sheer size and power of the animal make such efforts difficult.
Two years after the attack, Templer and a team completed the longest recorded descent of the Zambezi River, covering 1,600 miles. He attributes his resilience to a shift in perspective, focusing on what was still possible rather than what he had lost. “If you look for what’s possible, it generally is.”
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