LIONS IN CAMP
Lions roaring in the dark
“Gather wood, build a fire, stay up all night with the fire and stars.” — Antler
Fires are mesmerising, especially out in the dark in a wild place. There were many nights out in the bush when I sat at a smouldering fire of leadwood branches, stars scintillating, lions roaring, hyenas laughing and jackals yipping in the distance. The comforting calls of owls and nightjars — ‘Good Lord Deliver us’ crooned over and over again, a musical refrain.
We would crouch around the fire, faces dimly lit and share tales of our lives and experiences. The smell of woodsmoke and the blaze of sparks when the fire was poked, the scent of coffee boiling in a tin kettle and voices drifting, sometimes into song, sometimes into reminiscences or interspersed by ruminative silences, became it’s own story.
I remember one night particularly. I and a group of friends made an open camp and camp fire in the Klaserie Private Nature Reserve. The lions started calling to each other quite early and a way off. As the night progressed the calls circled closer and closer turning into full blown roars announcing to us the lion message — Who is Lord of this Land? I am, I am, I am — and we knew that for truth. There is an atavistic shiver that runs down your spine at the sound. Our ancient ancestors passed on their fear of the night and it’s predators to us.
…. A campfire`s Paleolithic experience we can all still have.” — Antler
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The stories we told around our small fire were about our adventures in the wild places we loved to spend time in or some of the crazy people we knew. The lions drew ever closer and we added more wood to the fire until it blazed like a bonfire and sparks flew up to join the multitude of stars in the Milky Way that wheeled above us. We could track the night hours passage by Orion’s Belt and the Southern Cross. To avoid night blindness some of us turned our backs to the fire and looked outwards into the dimly lit tangles of thorn branches and twisted trees.
Silence enveloped us as the first lioness emerged, a greyish ghostly shape, smelling us and our fire. Another padded to the edge of our clearing. Then another, until five lionesses surrounded us. Finally the male moved in, his mane huge in the shadows. In a quiet clear voice of command, our friend Les told those near the fire to grab a burning branch and wield it in the air.
All four of the men in the party took point around our little camp. They worked in private game reserves and were accustomed to shepherding tourists on game walks and drives. Running is the very last thing you must do in such a situation. Stand your ground and look as big and intimidating as you can. The lions stood their ground for several, very long and terrifying minutes, then slipped away, as quietly as they had arrived.
Wild animals will suss out a situation and assess their chances of success before making a move. If we had been only one or two they would have probably taken us out and we would have made the front pages of the local newspapers as victims of a lion attack. Our numbers and the fire counted in our favour that night.
An audible whoosh of relief and a few nervous giggles broke the grip of the lion spell we had been under. The Canadian visitor with us collapsed in a shivering heap. This was far more than she had reckoned on. Chattering broke out about the experience and how everybody had felt. The deep throaty roar of the alpha male reminded us once again that the lion was lord of the land and we merely temporary visitors, insignificant as mice.
That memory has been shared many times since then, around tables and fires. It is emblazoned on my mind and heart thanks to the adrenalin high at the time. Our physiology helps us to remember peak moments in our lives.
“We are all storytellers. We all live in a network of stories. There isn’t a stronger connection between people than storytelling.” Jimmy Neil Smith, founder of the International Storytelling Center.
