I didn’t need to think hard about today’s prompt. In fact, the image of my country animal came to me instantly and it sent shivers down my spine
As the sun sets over the savanna, the jovial laughter and joking around the campfire are suddenly silenced by a roar. The sound rips through the peaceful African landscape and temporarily silences the “hunters” around the campfire. They freeze for a moment, startled by the mighty sound. Then they laugh. The fattest one of the lot very proudly declares “That one is mine tomorrow! Let him enjoy his final roar this night”
From the encampment behind them, the old and sicky lion roars once more, softer this time – a little desperation mixed with a lot of sadness and surrender to this desperate fate. The once-mighty King of the Jungle has been reduced to no more than a bag of bones, flies clumping around sores and broken skin. His big black mane that once stood proud as he roared to welcome the day, now hangs in tangles and knots.
I ran this prompt by a couple of people to get a sense of how they felt and what animal would represent our country. The responses varied from skunk to (a very generic) Springbok. One even told me I’m being far too dramatic. If I am, be that as it may, but my heart aches for our country as it does for that canned lion.
How did our country go from a young, virile, strong black-maned lion to this – a sickly, sad, desperate and hopeless creature sitting in the spotlight waiting for its end as politicians with their corruption and nepotism and fraud circle in to draw the last breath from it?
There is a lot to be said over South Africa. I don’t like to talk politics, but you don’t need to look far to see the desperate state that is now our State.
What future do I promise my child? How do we restore this lion to health and make it free once more? Is that kind of restoration even possible?
I don’t know. I don’t have the answers.
The only thing I know for sure is that my heart breaks for South Africa. No matter what happens or where I go from here. No matter whether I stay or go find a future somewhere else. No matter what, Afrika will always and forever be in my blood. My blood will run green and gold until my last breath. Afrika my love
As I have this vision in mind, the sounds of Johannes Kerkorrel rings in my ears.
Halala Afrika – ewig is ons Afrika