Even The Animals Cry

Brilliant whispers, “Look off in the bush, there is a small group of the Cape Buffalo”.   Someone else remarks, “Look further to the right, in that very dense bush, a lone buffalo is grazing”.

Eight lions also watch the buffalo.  These lions, full of magnificence and freedom surround us, oblivious to our existence. A single lion, a male, is looking very alert in the direction of the lone buffalo. He moves to the front of the truck, continuing to watch in the direction of the single buffalo, his mane and lean body shine in the glow of the soon setting sun.  Unexpectedly, less than a football field away, a sudden rush of dulled brown color, with a loud, deep clamor, crashes through the bush into the clearing, the lone buffalo bellowing a panicked and high pitched scream. The eight lions are upon the buffalo, surrounding, mounting and biting at the victims’ heels. The buffalo lows in terror.

Watching as the lions circle and lunge, with the females jumping on the back of the buffalo trying to bring it down, we are aware of the buffalo's moan and sorrowful bellowing. Brilliant keeps saying, softly, “The buffalo, he is crying”. As the sun finally sets, the lions succeed in pulling the buffalo to the ground. They are feeding even before he is down or dead. He moans and cries while they hold him, gouging his side with their teeth.

Again Brilliant whispers, “Listen, the buffalo is crying”.

Months later as I watch the nightly news, the broadcaster sits in front of a world map. Appropriately it is a map of the night traversing the world. Clusters of city lights are arranged around the heavily populated areas on the different continents. I never noticed the map before the trip. But now I am aware of the continent behind the news anchor’s left shoulder. It is completely dark except for a small strip of light running along the eastern edge of the coast.  I marvel that this dark land is Africa, sitting so starkly silent behind the commentator.  Flying over this entire continent, as I made my way to South Africa, I was aware of the immensity of the land below as well as the barren terrain, a gigantic wilderness that beckons intrigue.   If there any villages, settlements or roads, and surely there must have been, I did not see them.

Africa beckons to me still. I wonder about Brilliant, driving new visitors to the bones to tell our story, there in a part of Africa that still experiences nature in a most primitive form. And while those bones of Manyeleti grow whiter, the strife and conflict among the people in other parts of the world continues unabated. As the young lions continue to flawlessly exercise their natural instincts, the people continue to perfect their acts against civilized existence.

This is my story about that perfection.  It began across the globe from Africa and many years ago.