Musings of A Third Culture Brit

I couldn't ever forget the last time I saw Lions. Real lions, Kings of the African plain, not the lonely beasts consigned to a square of grass in some zoo, diminished from their glorious indifference as rulers of the jungle to attractions for families.

They were two males, lazing in the sun on a hot afternoon day. We were on our way out of the Kruger, my Dad was driving and my sisters and I were sitting in the back. It was my Mother who spotted them first, screaming frantically at my dad to slow down. And there they were sprawled in the middle of the road. Two huge beasts with brown manes littered with dark tufts of thick hair. They were the embodiment of indifference, relishing the sun-heated road. Our presence meant nothing to them, they couldn't care less.

That didn't stop my dad from chastising my mom for taking pictures. She stuck half her body at of the front window of the Mercedes Gl. Adjusting the lens of her Nikon FM10 and snapping away at the reclining brothers.

This would be the last time we'd drive up from Pretoria as a family to spend a week at the Kruger. We were due to leave South Africa next month for Windsor. In a way it seemed these two kings were here to see us off in a way that was truly African. Because that is Africa. It's as majestic as these two lions were, lying in the middle of the road at three in the afternoon soaking up the sun. Yet it is not to be touched. There is a pride in that magnificence and a danger in that indifference.

We watched the lions for about ten minutes , not staying too long to let the cars behind us pull up to the two kings. The lions themselves never moved the whole time we were there. One was fully asleep and the other lazily flicked open an eyelid to examine us before deeming us unworthy of his attention. They both had golden brown hair, and graceful feline figures with their heads resting on their powerful paws about three meters apart.

Later that night they would rise from their slumber and roam their kingdom. Staring out from the stuffy backseat of that car there was no doubt in my mind that it was their kingdom. The sleeping hunters, relaxed but undeniably dangerous. When we drove off into the sun my heartbeat slowed. My mother excitedly showed my sisters her pictures but I stared out, watching the elephant grass brush by the car. I've never been back to Africa but I carry the feeling of the heat and the lions in me always.