Scarred Lions (12 page)

The sound shattered the night. First the loud bang, and almost immediately after the thud! Then all went quiet. No birds, no crickets or scurrying animals. No voices, no breathing.

Just silence. And billowing dust.

I lay there on my back, watching the moon slide out from behind a cloud. The cloud seemed almost translucent, the moon somehow magical.

I was alive! Alive! Once this incredible thought had struck me, I slowly tried to
move my limbs. As if to make sure that it wasn’t just a dream.

There was a heavy weight on top of me. Themba and the lion. Seeing them both from up close was strange. It was as if I had snapped out of a nightmare, only to realise that it was all true. I’d been attacked by a lion and Themba had saved me.

Themba.

Was he okay? His eyes were closed. His body as still as the lion’s.

No!

Hurried footsteps kicked up some more dust around us. ‘Buyi! Themba! Are you hurt?’ I was thankful hearing Lwazi’s voice again.

‘Okay … I’m okay,’ I whispered, my mouth dry and throbbing with pain. I had bitten down on the inside of my cheek during the fall.

‘Themba?’ Lwazi stood astride us. His arms strained at the lion’s heavy body, trying to drag it aside. He clenched his teeth against his own pain. His shoulder had not healed completely. Heaving the mighty lion off my dad, he called out to him again: ‘Themba!’

I finally managed to free myself completely. Lwazi rolled Themba over on his back. Solemnly. Silently. He shot a quick glance at me, and then placed his ear to Themba’s mouth. Listened …

‘He’s alive!’ They were the sweetest words I’ve ever heard. ‘We have to get him to a hospital.’ Lwazi ran back to the Land Rover. I heard him calling for help on the radio. His voice the only sound in the clear night.

I kneeled beside Themba. ‘Dad …’ I whispered. It was the first time I’d called him that. The word felt strange on my tongue. ‘It’s going to be okay. Just hang in there!’

I looked down at his body. It was covered in blood. His clothes torn, exposing deep gashes. And then the cut on his forehead …

Just like the scarred lion’s.

‘Ngonyama …’ The first word Themba said, as he slowly opened his eyes in the hospital. ‘Ngonyama …’

I frowned as I looked down at him. I didn’t know what he meant.

The doctor had given him something for the pain. He was calm now. The operation to fix his internal wounds had been a success. The gash on his forehead was closed and bandaged. ‘It will take time for it to heal. There’ll be a scar. But we can fix it later with plastic surgery,’ said the doctor.

I smiled at Themba. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Fine,’ he whispered bravely. The word fragile, like porcelain. ‘And you?’

‘I’m okay. Just a few cuts and bruises. Mama Unahti has been taking care of me.’

He nodded slowly, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep again, smiling.

Waking up the following day, he had more of his wits about him. His eyes seemed more alive, he could even move his arms and legs.

‘You still here?’

‘Yes, Dad. I stayed through the night.’ We stared at each other for a while. ‘
Go-ya
-ma …’ I said. ‘That’s what you said yesterday. When you came around.’

He frowned at first, but then realised what I’d tried to say. ‘Ngonyama.’

‘Yeah, that, what does it mean?’

‘It’s my surname.’ Of course! I had heard André calling him Mister Ngonyama once. ‘It is isiZulu for lion.’

‘Oh?’

He took a deep breath. His lip quivered. ‘My ancestral tribe had been assigned the task … the sacred duty of protecting lions. And taking care of the other animals living with them. Ensuring that they didn’t come to any harm.’ His voice was now filled with strained emotion. ‘And I’ve failed … I’ve failed the lions.’

I took his hand. It was warm in mine.

‘No, you didn’t,’ I said softly. His eyes looked at me, questioningly. ‘You protected me.’

‘Buyi?’ He still didn’t understand.

‘Okay, I know my surname is Johnson, that’s how Mum registered it. But I’m your son. Ngonyama – I’m one too. A lion. And you saved me.’

His hand tightened around mine. I could see him biting back the tears.

‘I’m sorry I ran away.’ My voice was soft, trembling. ‘I … I wanted to go back home to Mum. After everything that happened … I just didn’t want to stay in South Africa anymore.’

‘I was too rough on you.’

‘It’s hard for me to say but I … I felt like I didn’t belong, that you didn’t want me here.’

Again he bit back the tears, but it was no use. They were now streaming down his face. He turned his head away. His shoulders were shaking.

‘It’s okay,’ I whispered.

Composing himself, he looked at me again. ‘You know, it’s funny, the Swahili people say that when a lion roars, it’s actually saying: Whose land is this? Mine, mine, mine! And it should be yours too.’

A jolt went through me.

‘I’ve watched you these past couple of days,’ continued Themba. ‘You’ve changed since you came here. Africa has been good for you. You belong here.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It’s true – Africa can be a tough place. It’s been that way since Man could remember. A lot of blood has been spilt here. These people, all of them, black and white have known hardship. But they are real people. Warm. Loving.’

You weren’t, I wanted to say, but didn’t. I only stared down at his hand. He must have sensed what I felt. ‘I was so scared,’ he said, his voice trailing off to a thoughtful silence.

I frowned. ‘Scared?’

‘That I would lose you.’ Again the silence. ‘Having you here has been hard on me too. I’ve never had to care for anybody but myself.’

‘And the wild animals in the resort,’ I added.

‘Caring for animals is different from caring for people. Then you came along. And boy, was that a shock!’ He smiled. I did too. ‘That first day I saw you … I got scared thinking that you were now my responsibility. And I was clueless. How do you care for a child? Your own child!’

‘I thought you didn’t like me.’

‘That’s not true. Please believe me. I liked you since I set eyes on you. But it was so strange having you around when I came home. You must remember that I have always lived alone. During the day I entertained lots of people, telling them about the bush, the animals. And when I got home, there was always this silence. Loneliness.

‘It all changed when you came. And I felt like a failure, not being able to talk to you like a father would talk to his son.’

‘I didn’t know what to say to you either.’

‘I am sorry for not making you feel more welcome, Buyi.’

I nodded.

We stared at each other for a while. That terrifying moment with the lion had changed things between us. Staring death in the eye does that to people. You take stock of your life and begin to see what is important to you.

‘Has your mother ever told you how we met?’ Themba asked.

‘No.’

I could almost see the memories come flooding back to him. ‘I was a young man. In my early twenties. I had barely finished my training as a game-ranger. I got a job at a game resort. Not Isigubhu where I am now, one further to the north. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

‘And then one day a group of tourists arrived. From England. Your mum was one of them. She was so beautiful. We hit it off right away.’

‘Soul mates?’ I asked.

‘Yes, some people call it that.’ Themba sighed. ‘But it was not to be. The resort forbade any contact, other than professional, with guests. But how do you forbid love? As the devil would have it, we got caught. I was given a disciplinary hearing. I lost my job. Your mum had to go back to London …’ Themba’s face dropped as if he could still feel the pain.

‘Why didn’t you go with her?’

‘I had no money. And times were different then.’

‘But did you at least keep in contact?’

‘Yes. And then one day she phoned me with the news. She was two months
pregnant. I was overjoyed. My parents, however, were not.’

‘You still have parents?’ I asked.

‘Not anymore. They died a few years back.’

‘Oh.’

‘They forbade me to see your mum. They wanted me to take an African woman as a wife. And so it was that we drifted apart. We each got on with our lives. I found a new job. In the back of my mind I began to realise that I might never get to see my child. Your mum phoned me again the day after you were born. I asked her to call you Buyisiwe.’

‘Returned.’

Themba nodded. ‘And for years we lost contact, until …’

‘… recently when Mum ran into money trouble.’

Themba nodded.

‘Do you still love her?’

‘I don’t know. It’s been so long. But I have never loved anyone like I did your mother once.’

Taking stock of our lives: that is what the lion attack did.

A knock at the hospital room door made me look up.

‘What is this? Are you still in bed, Themba?’ cried Lwazi cheerfully. ‘But it was just a scratch!’

The others crowded behind him: André and Simoshile, followed by Mama Unahti, carrying flowers and a tin of cookies.

‘Not everybody is as stubborn as you are, Lwazi,’ said Mama Unahti, clicking her tongue. ‘Can you believe it, Themba? He still hasn’t taken all his medicine.’

‘I am as strong as an ox,’ said Lwazi. ‘I don’t need medicine!’

‘Eish! I wish there was a pill for stubbornness!’

Mama Unahti and Lwazi laughed heartily and put their arms around each other. I had always thought there was something going on between the two of them. But now I was sure.

‘Don’t mind them, Mister Ngonyama,’ said Simoshile, rolling her eyes with shame. ‘They’re like two school children these days. How are you?’

‘I’m fine thank you, Simoshile.’

‘Tell us about the lion!’ said André. His face was alight with expectation.

‘Didn’t Buyi tell you?’ asked my dad.

‘Yeah, he did, but I want to hear your side of the story now. Just in case the Englishman left something out.’

‘Englishman? I don’t know if you can call him that anymore, André. After the lion attack, I think he is more African, than English. What do you say, Buyi?’

I shrugged and smiled.

Then Themba became more serious. ‘But there is something you guys need to know. Buyi told me that he would like to go back to London.’

‘No! You can’t!’ cried Simoshile.

Everybody stared at her in amazement. She became shy suddenly.

‘Oh, it’s the love thing again,’ grinned André, elbowing me.

‘Love thing, André?’ frowned Themba.

‘Didn’t you know, Mister Ngonyama?’

‘Don’t listen to him, Dad. He’s just teasing,’ I said.

‘No, I’m not!’ cried André. ‘I saw them holding hands!’

‘Well, well,’ said Mama Unahti clasping her hands. ‘Lwazi, your little girl is in love!’

Lwazi looked a bit confused. But his face lit up as he shifted his gaze to Simoshile. She smiled, took my hand and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

‘Oh no!’ cried André sticking out his tongue and screwing up his face.

A warm jolt of lightning went right through me. It was strange being kissed by a girl. Even a quick kiss like the one she gave me. I could still feel her soft lips pressing against my cheek. ‘Thanks,’ I said and smiled sheepishly.

Thanks. Was that the best I could do? But what else do you say?

The others just laughed at me.

‘Looks like you have no choice but to stay a while longer, Buyi,’ said Themba. ‘You wouldn’t want to break a young girl’s heart now, would you?’

I gently squeezed Simoshile’s hand, looked into her kind eyes and said, ‘You’re right, Dad. I couldn’t do that.’ Simoshile smiled. ‘But …’ Her smile faded again. My troubled gaze shifted back to Themba.

‘Your mother …’ he said. I nodded. ‘Why don’t you give her a call when you get back to the resort.’

‘Call her?’

‘Yes. Tell her to come over for a visit. I’ll somehow scrape together some money to pay for the plane ticket. It would be great to see her again. And if she still likes South Africa as much as she did back then … who knows, we’ll take it from there.’

Driving back to the game resort later that afternoon, I thought about all that had happened to me. The hard times and the good.

I gazed out at the sundrenched sky, the rustling trees, the gracious land and I thought: Africa is more than a landscape – it is a sense-scape. It beckons you to listen, see, smell, touch, taste and experience.

I looked at Simoshile sitting alongside me and I knew I would be all right. I belonged here in South Africa. And I could roar it loud, just like the lion: Whose land is this? Mine, mine, mine!