The Brothers

The disruptions in the night. The roars, the snarling, the sniping, the growling. The push and the pull. Anyone within at least a dozen miles (20 kilometers) could hear and know: two brothers were fighting, jockeying for power, tearing each other apart. Two brothers were fighting for control, for position, for dominance. When I awoke, I felt the energy, knew that something was different; wrong, somehow. 

As the bystander, what was I experiencing? 

Suddenly, a knock on the door. “Kate! Wake up, Kate! We need to check the plains.” I quickly dressed, performing the bare essentials of my morning routine (brushed my teeth, tied my boots). 

Climbing into the buggy, I asked, “What happened?”

My guide, Moses, confirmed, “The brothers.” 

I knew, immediately: LIONS. 

When you experience life on the African plains, you know when the universe has been upended. The guides, in particular, know when the universe has been upended; it’s part of their job.

In this camp in South Africa, there were three prides, or pods, of lions. Their roles cemented and specific: the males protect the pride and their territory, and ensure reproductive success; the females oversee the pride, birth and raise the cubs, plus hunt/collect the food. One alpha male only, per pride. It should be noted that lions operate in symbiotic, matriarchal societies, where the pride’s long-term survival depends on the cooperation of its female members (females remain in the same pride from birth). A beautiful arrangement, from a female’s perspective.

Each pride pushing for food, for breeding, for power. Of course, this synchronicity is upended in a timely manner. There’s only so much food and territory to go around.

In this instance, it was that the cubs were coming of age. To be specific, two male cubs – brothers – had just turned three. It was their time to demonstrate their dominance, or lack thereof; cutting ties with their youth and establishing themselves as alphas and betas. Who would be rewarded with their own pride? The fourth of the plains? How will the other brother survive? Moses had been monitoring them for some time, anticipating this very situation.

Moses, a person who was given the chance to break out of poverty (poverty is 90% of the population in that part of Africa, as among many, many other parts), was an expert in reading and understanding the plains. Having studied this very subject for four years in secondary education to become a safari guide, his career centered on discovering, protecting, and explaining all the activities of the wildlife in the plains (much of the vegetation, too). And stepping in, when needed.

The buggy lurched to a quick pace, and I held on as the dust and heat hit my face. We traveled quickly toward the source of the chaos I had heard the night before: northwest of where I had just recently slept. 

Suddenly, we found him. 

Impatiently resting in the grass: the beta. He was beat up. He had giant claw marks across his face, blood dripping out of his eye, his torso also a mess of torn flesh. He had lost. The alpha had been established. 

Moses further explained, “It happens every time: the jockeying for power. They hit 3 or so years old, and someone has to come out on top, establish their own pride, find their own female partners.”

He went on to explain that his job was to assess his injuries and work with the plains’ vets to help him, save him, fix him, or euthanize him. Those are the facts. 

Suddenly, I heard the whir of helicopter blades. The vet had arrived. Slowly easing himself out of the helicopter upon landing, the vet approached the weary, injured lion cautiously. Assessing as he neared.

As the casual bystander, I knew to stay quiet and still. The first thing you learn in the African arena is that your life is tenuous; you stay still and silent to stay safe. And alive. Stay in the buggy, out of sight.

Moses and the vet put their heads together, determining a plan of action. Slowly still, they approached the injured lion. The vet pulled out a sizable needle – to quiet the power, to loosen the lion’s association with reality. The lion acquiesced, but only after emitting a few half-felt snarls. Having administered the shot, the vet and Moses (along with the helicopter pilot) hoisted the helpless lion onto a tarp and into the helicopter. 

As Moses explained, the vet would assess the wounded beast and determine whether his injuries were viable to repair, or whether his time on this earth had expired. 

Sadly, that was the last I heard of this situation, of this lion. 

I flew home the next day, too afraid to ask. 

NEED: Third character: the witness: the safari guide. Each animal will require a witness/protector.