GOLDEN GLOW
You can be anything in life that you want to be. An open ended idea which gives everyone hope and kills them at the same time. What unbridled pressure?
Oscillation, duality and juxtaposing beliefs accurately describe my personality. I am a really calm person at the same time as being in a constant state of anxiety. I wake up inside a cosy, snug fog of grey but within seconds my mind is abuzz with thousands of flashing images, my stomach fills with bile, poisonous panic swamps me. I dread the light of day. Yet I have found my passion. I love my life with lions.
So there it is, the dichotomy of Andi Rive.
What I am doing is really important stuff to the lions in my care, but it is also very basic. In fact, the daily drudge of life with lions includes ….
- Fetching carcasses, cutting up carcasses, throwing cut up pieces onto the back of the bakkie, moving the pieces from the slaughter area to the storage area then either loading the pieces into bags to be frozen or applying supplements to the pieces to be fed to the lions.
- Waiting for hours on the back of the bakkie whilst the lions decide if they are going to go through the gate into the management area. Cleaning up all the remains of the food pieces we worked so hard to get into the enclosures in the first place. Washing out the waterhole. Cutting the grass along the fence line.
- Walking around the perimeter of the fence line scanning every wire and joint. Visually following the electrified line going into each bobbin and coming out the other end. Checking for faults. Staring at the fence whilst not stepping on snakes, tripping over tufts of veld or overbalancing into the fence. The lions in stalk position waiting for just such a blunder.
- Taking visitors for a tour, telling them everything about the lions (which I do not mind doing at all), answering the same questions again (which I do not mind doing either), cooking for guests, washing dishes for guests, washing bedding, making beds, sweeping floors, chopping firewood, sitting up with guests until whatever time they choose to retire to their tent and being up in the morning to greet them at what ever time they get up. Talking to them patiently even though I have a dozen pressing tasks I have to attend to but can not do until they are ready to leave (and I do not begrudge them hanging in here until the last minute.)
- Admin, admin, and admin. Wasting half of my admin day trying to get the laptop charged on our solar system, or walking around looking for a spot where the dongle receives signal or hiding in a corner of the tented sitting room to avoid rain. Working from inside our tent or on the deck alongside the tent on a mountain is truly special but it brings with it a load of technical issues which make me, in many brief spurts, wish for an office with a roof, walls, electricity and a level, dust free, dry desk surface with lighting.
Another day of working on the laptop going through bank statements, formulating budgets for the next project, catching up on thank you letters and not, to be completely honest, completing any one of these tasks as I jump from one to the next prematurely.
I am sitting here on the deck of our tent surrounded by verdant green. The sun shines on leaves in the depth of the bush exaggerating the lushness of my surroundings in a magical way. The light touching on leaves which I cannot myself reach in the dense foliage cossets me in the knowledge that there is more to this. Layers of green. Layers of sound. Plenty of time. The birds sing and the insects buzz and I am cocooned in a secret full of life I cannot touch but I know is all around me.
The sunshine itself touches me now in the late afternoon just as it is no longer too hot, only a gentle warmth; welcomed as it is about to leave me. Because it is about to leave me. Now, at the end of the day I wish to hang on to it.
The sun sinks into the low sky, it draws my mind with it and I think, for the first time all day, of the lions behind the bushes to the west of my tent. They are there. They have been there all day but I on my laptop have neglected to think of them or to venture out and look at what they have been up to.
Now the sun highlights their side of the camp and shadows close in behind me, drawing my mind to them, I hear their thudding foot falls as they come out of their daylong rest and enter into late afternoon activity. That is the way of lions. They sleep all day and begin adventuring at sundown.
Closer to me the golden light catches dust motes in a nostalgic shaft of light in a way that makes me, well, nostalgic. For what I do not know. I feel that something is remembered just as it is about to be forgotten. I sense urgency and get up, to grab hold of the day I have wasted.
I set off towards the lions.
I should have taken the time to change out of my flip flops and into proper shoes. I should have taken the time to put on a warmer top. I do know better than this. It is certainly not the first time I have walked out at sunset jacketless in the wrong shoes.
Golden light catches on the long grass in tawny streaks. Gusts of movement sway through the veld, the waves flow swiftly from the distant hills and past me in silence.
Oscillation, duality and juxtaposing beliefs accurately describe my personality. I am a really calm person at the same time as being in a constant state of anxiety. I wake up inside a cosy, snug fog of grey but within seconds my mind is abuzz with thousands of flashing images, my stomach fills with bile, poisonous panic swamps me. I dread the light of day. Yet I have found my passion. I love my life with lions.
So there it is, the dichotomy of Andi Rive.
What I am doing is really important stuff to the lions in my care, but it is also very basic. In fact, the daily drudge of life with lions includes ….
- Fetching carcasses, cutting up carcasses, throwing cut up pieces onto the back of the bakkie, moving the pieces from the slaughter area to the storage area then either loading the pieces into bags to be frozen or applying supplements to the pieces to be fed to the lions.
- Waiting for hours on the back of the bakkie whilst the lions decide if they are going to go through the gate into the management area. Cleaning up all the remains of the food pieces we worked so hard to get into the enclosures in the first place. Washing out the waterhole. Cutting the grass along the fence line.
- Walking around the perimeter of the fence line scanning every wire and joint. Visually following the electrified line going into each bobbin and coming out the other end. Checking for faults. Staring at the fence whilst not stepping on snakes, tripping over tufts of veld or overbalancing into the fence. The lions in stalk position waiting for just such a blunder.
- Taking visitors for a tour, telling them everything about the lions (which I do not mind doing at all), answering the same questions again (which I do not mind doing either), cooking for guests, washing dishes for guests, washing bedding, making beds, sweeping floors, chopping firewood, sitting up with guests until whatever time they choose to retire to their tent and being up in the morning to greet them at what ever time they get up. Talking to them patiently even though I have a dozen pressing tasks I have to attend to but can not do until they are ready to leave (and I do not begrudge them hanging in here until the last minute.)
- Admin, admin, and admin. Wasting half of my admin day trying to get the laptop charged on our solar system, or walking around looking for a spot where the dongle receives signal or hiding in a corner of the tented sitting room to avoid rain. Working from inside our tent or on the deck alongside the tent on a mountain is truly special but it brings with it a load of technical issues which make me, in many brief spurts, wish for an office with a roof, walls, electricity and a level, dust free, dry desk surface with lighting.
Another day of working on the laptop going through bank statements, formulating budgets for the next project, catching up on thank you letters and not, to be completely honest, completing any one of these tasks as I jump from one to the next prematurely.
I am sitting here on the deck of our tent surrounded by verdant green. The sun shines on leaves in the depth of the bush exaggerating the lushness of my surroundings in a magical way. The light touching on leaves which I cannot myself reach in the dense foliage cossets me in the knowledge that there is more to this. Layers of green. Layers of sound. Plenty of time. The birds sing and the insects buzz and I am cocooned in a secret full of life I cannot touch but I know is all around me.
The sunshine itself touches me now in the late afternoon just as it is no longer too hot, only a gentle warmth; welcomed as it is about to leave me. Because it is about to leave me. Now, at the end of the day I wish to hang on to it.
The sun sinks into the low sky, it draws my mind with it and I think, for the first time all day, of the lions behind the bushes to the west of my tent. They are there. They have been there all day but I on my laptop have neglected to think of them or to venture out and look at what they have been up to.
Now the sun highlights their side of the camp and shadows close in behind me, drawing my mind to them, I hear their thudding foot falls as they come out of their daylong rest and enter into late afternoon activity. That is the way of lions. They sleep all day and begin adventuring at sundown.
Closer to me the golden light catches dust motes in a nostalgic shaft of light in a way that makes me, well, nostalgic. For what I do not know. I feel that something is remembered just as it is about to be forgotten. I sense urgency and get up, to grab hold of the day I have wasted.
I set off towards the lions.
I should have taken the time to change out of my flip flops and into proper shoes. I should have taken the time to put on a warmer top. I do know better than this. It is certainly not the first time I have walked out at sunset jacketless in the wrong shoes.
Golden light catches on the long grass in tawny streaks. Gusts of movement sway through the veld, the waves flow swiftly from the distant hills and past me in silence.
The sound of the wind is not synchronised to the movement. The sound belongs against the cliff behind me and to the annoying hair that flicks and sticks to my face. While the swathing chorus of grass silently does its own thing as if independently alive and nothing to do with the wind.
And then here are the lions, they materialise out of the grass as solid, substantial beings where I only saw slender wisps of veld moments before.
They come towards me even as they are studiously ignoring me. Their eyes do not alight on me for I am beneath their interest. I really may as well not be here.
I walk down the length of their fence-line heading towards the deeper shades of blue which the distant mountains have painted beyond the bright green of the crunching grass I walk through. The reality of the ground under my feet is much harder than the beautiful view around me would have you believe. The sharp blades pierce the sides of my feet where the flip flops provide no protection. Tufts of veld have to be stepped over and the undulating terrain forces me to concentrate on the immediacy of where exactly to lay my next step rather than allowing me to take in the majesty of the lions romping through this spectacular scenery.
These lions are the three lionesses from Ukraine. They have only been here for 4 weeks. They have taken ownership of their space as only true royalty can, with absolute aplomb and no pretence. No one else is welcome. This is completely their territory. Every rock and termite hill has been claimed. They sniff ahead of them even taking ownership of the scents that arise from the earth around them. The two youngsters, Frida and Diya burst forwards in a sudden spurt, run 3 dozen strides and then flop down to rest as if they have been busy all day. Demira seems uninterested, she walks steadily onward, slinking across the hillside at a pace which belies the nonchalance of the motion. Silently lifting a head and yawning, Diya is up and moving without apparent effort. Frida joins her, catching up to Demira, Frida's canter turns into a stalk whilst Diya is already leaping and mock striking the bigger lioness. Demira elegantly side steps and Diya lands clumsily alongside of her query. Frida darts forward to slap Diya and the two roll over in a cuddle of lion. They hug and wrestle gently until Diya rolls away in what appears to be sleep and Frida reaches out to Demira who has looped back to flop down alongside the youngsters. Not once do any of the three acknowledge my presence or glance over to me. But their play hunting moves steadily across the hillside in alignment with my progression down the fence-line.
I stop at the western side of the enclosure now facing back to the mountain on whose slope our bushy camp is tucked. Our tent is in deep shadow but the mountain is lit up at this hour in absolute rose tinted splendour. It is unreal and it is fleeting. The rocks will only stay this way for minutes. I view this moment of surreal grandeur almost every day yet still it takes me by surprise on each viewing.
What! I think as my eyes look up to see the huge gleaming rock. My goodness gracious me, it is a mountain of rose gold rock standing just over there! Oh my word, let me take a photo to capture this moment.
And then I see lions in front of the enormous rocky back drop. What! my mind exclaims in even further wonder, there are beautiful lions draped over smaller rose gold boulders in front of the unreal glowing mountain. Oh my word I must take another 50 photos of this magnificent scene that can't be real unless photographed.
The lionesses moan in lion talk to one another and get up to stalk-walk away into the long grass. I have stayed in one spot for too long, we need to do as lionesses do and move on. So I do, but this means I have to pay attention to my footfalls again so as not to twist an ankle.
I look up to check that the mountain is still there and there it still is. A million swallows zoom this way and that silhouetted infront of it. Two black eagles spiral so slowly that they are not moving at all. I stop walking and look for the lions but they have gone from view. I concentrate on getting myself around the corner of their fence and up the small hill to the South of their enclosure from where I can see better. I successfully do not slip while climbing the hillock because I add thrust and speed to my steps and lean forward in a practiced motion that I taught myself after the first few months of slipping onto my bum whenever I walked here. I think back on how funny it was that whenever I slipped, I would feel embarrassed and would quickly spring up, looking up to see if all of a sudden there would be a stranger happening by on the cliffs where there was never a soul.
I glance back to the mountain. The mountain is at that exact silent moment when the intensity of the glow pauses briefly before leaving. The light does not disappear nor the Golden Glow fade. It is simply gone. The mountain is not in shadow. It just returns to normal. Daylight still exists and the rock is visible as befits the daylight nature of the sky, the ethereal glow of a moment ago is a figment of my imagination.
I hastily turn back to face the lion enclosure because I know that the sun sets in that direction. I know I will stand on this grassy bank, as my feet grow cold and watch the oranges and reds behind rolling blue clouds and charcoal hill-scapes be transfigured by the appearance of lion silhouettes as they silently appear on top of their shelter roof. And I do watch this as they do appear as they always do. Well now that they live here and not in cages in Eastern Europe anymore.
And then here are the lions, they materialise out of the grass as solid, substantial beings where I only saw slender wisps of veld moments before.
They come towards me even as they are studiously ignoring me. Their eyes do not alight on me for I am beneath their interest. I really may as well not be here.
I walk down the length of their fence-line heading towards the deeper shades of blue which the distant mountains have painted beyond the bright green of the crunching grass I walk through. The reality of the ground under my feet is much harder than the beautiful view around me would have you believe. The sharp blades pierce the sides of my feet where the flip flops provide no protection. Tufts of veld have to be stepped over and the undulating terrain forces me to concentrate on the immediacy of where exactly to lay my next step rather than allowing me to take in the majesty of the lions romping through this spectacular scenery.
These lions are the three lionesses from Ukraine. They have only been here for 4 weeks. They have taken ownership of their space as only true royalty can, with absolute aplomb and no pretence. No one else is welcome. This is completely their territory. Every rock and termite hill has been claimed. They sniff ahead of them even taking ownership of the scents that arise from the earth around them. The two youngsters, Frida and Diya burst forwards in a sudden spurt, run 3 dozen strides and then flop down to rest as if they have been busy all day. Demira seems uninterested, she walks steadily onward, slinking across the hillside at a pace which belies the nonchalance of the motion. Silently lifting a head and yawning, Diya is up and moving without apparent effort. Frida joins her, catching up to Demira, Frida's canter turns into a stalk whilst Diya is already leaping and mock striking the bigger lioness. Demira elegantly side steps and Diya lands clumsily alongside of her query. Frida darts forward to slap Diya and the two roll over in a cuddle of lion. They hug and wrestle gently until Diya rolls away in what appears to be sleep and Frida reaches out to Demira who has looped back to flop down alongside the youngsters. Not once do any of the three acknowledge my presence or glance over to me. But their play hunting moves steadily across the hillside in alignment with my progression down the fence-line.
I stop at the western side of the enclosure now facing back to the mountain on whose slope our bushy camp is tucked. Our tent is in deep shadow but the mountain is lit up at this hour in absolute rose tinted splendour. It is unreal and it is fleeting. The rocks will only stay this way for minutes. I view this moment of surreal grandeur almost every day yet still it takes me by surprise on each viewing.
What! I think as my eyes look up to see the huge gleaming rock. My goodness gracious me, it is a mountain of rose gold rock standing just over there! Oh my word, let me take a photo to capture this moment.
And then I see lions in front of the enormous rocky back drop. What! my mind exclaims in even further wonder, there are beautiful lions draped over smaller rose gold boulders in front of the unreal glowing mountain. Oh my word I must take another 50 photos of this magnificent scene that can't be real unless photographed.
The lionesses moan in lion talk to one another and get up to stalk-walk away into the long grass. I have stayed in one spot for too long, we need to do as lionesses do and move on. So I do, but this means I have to pay attention to my footfalls again so as not to twist an ankle.
I look up to check that the mountain is still there and there it still is. A million swallows zoom this way and that silhouetted infront of it. Two black eagles spiral so slowly that they are not moving at all. I stop walking and look for the lions but they have gone from view. I concentrate on getting myself around the corner of their fence and up the small hill to the South of their enclosure from where I can see better. I successfully do not slip while climbing the hillock because I add thrust and speed to my steps and lean forward in a practiced motion that I taught myself after the first few months of slipping onto my bum whenever I walked here. I think back on how funny it was that whenever I slipped, I would feel embarrassed and would quickly spring up, looking up to see if all of a sudden there would be a stranger happening by on the cliffs where there was never a soul.
I glance back to the mountain. The mountain is at that exact silent moment when the intensity of the glow pauses briefly before leaving. The light does not disappear nor the Golden Glow fade. It is simply gone. The mountain is not in shadow. It just returns to normal. Daylight still exists and the rock is visible as befits the daylight nature of the sky, the ethereal glow of a moment ago is a figment of my imagination.
I hastily turn back to face the lion enclosure because I know that the sun sets in that direction. I know I will stand on this grassy bank, as my feet grow cold and watch the oranges and reds behind rolling blue clouds and charcoal hill-scapes be transfigured by the appearance of lion silhouettes as they silently appear on top of their shelter roof. And I do watch this as they do appear as they always do. Well now that they live here and not in cages in Eastern Europe anymore.
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