From my book...

Chapter Five - The Lion and the Stars

On the morning of Christmas Eve, we had a chance to relax under the shade of a palm grove. We had no plans for the day and expected no interruptions. I needed a break and so, I was sure, did Joe.

Three month's mail had caught up with us and as we read our letters, Joe exclaiming “Son of a bitch, this is unbelievable” startled me.

“What?” I snapped, drawn from my own introspections.
“This letter tells me that I’m a finalist in the Publisher’s Clearinghouse million dollar sweepstakes,” he chuckled, “So what’s new in your world?”

I began hesitantly to fill Joe in on the latest developments in my family. Denise, the eldest of my two daughters, sent a postcard from her honeymoon. This being her second marriage, I was informed of both events, the divorce and the marriage, from this postcard. The postcard was a picture of a lion yawning or roaring. She and her new husband had gone to the National Zoo in Washington D.C. A lovely place.

And I was just about to tell him, when Joe, seeing the picture, said, “Male lions are pretty lazy, did you know that?”
“How so? I asked.

“I was able to see prides of lions at a distance while living with the Masai. Got to see a young female lion a little too close for comfort, as well,” he added.
“Oh?” I said, a little skeptical knowing a thing or two about lions myself.
“Sometimes I find myself laughing to myself while hearing some teenager complaining about how very hard life is or how bad she or he has as an American high school student.

“To enter manhood, a thirteen year old Masai boy must show his people that he has a strong heart and will defend his family’s cattle from any predator. They make a big deal of the day he becomes a man. Early in the morning, he leaves his family and enters an area where the elders are seated. He is then expected to drink or eat nothing but a revolting concoction of goat blood, fermented millet, a kind of yogurt made from goat milk, and the urine of the elders mixed with some herbs which I later learned to be capable of delivering a neurotoxin. After a diet of this stuff, the kid’s body is as numb as a corpse and his brain is elsewhere.

“During the day, every male member screams at him, slaps him around, not causing too much pain but to keep him awake, and if this doesn’t work, he has to jump up and down in place for hours. Any Masai woman does not see him during this time.

“When twilight arrives, he’s led to a circular enclosure of deadfall, similar to their goat pens but thicker. In the center are two of their spears stuck in the ground. Two points of a triangle but the spear points don’t touch and they’re at a 30° angle above the ground. These six to eight foot spears are extremely sharp. I brought one back with me after my Peace Corps service was complete, still have it.

“They position him between these spears and he stands there very still, very rigid, like a guard at Buckingham Palace. Surrounding the enclosure, everyone, including the women and children, are chanting or singing, whooping, cat calling, making a lot of noise. This noise distracts the soon to be a man from what is taking place elsewhere.

“Other Masai have captured, and I presume, starved a young lion, which has been kept somewhere else during the day. Bound feet and mouth, the elders carry this lion into the enclosure behind the boy’s area of vision, untie it and secure the enclosure. Someone, I suppose the boy’s father, throws some raw meat a couple of yards in front of his son to get the lion to walk around and be in a position to face the boy. After this tidbit, the lion notices the boy and smells him due to the stream of urine the ‘soon to be man’ releases as a completely natural reaction to seeing a lion standing in front of him.
“Completely understandable, Joe”, I said. “Know the feeling”.

“It’s hungry, somewhat angry at its captors, and the boy smells delicious. What happens next does so very quickly. The lion starts to trot in ever increasing circles, sort of like an old dog getting ready to lie down only in reverse. It stops, and slowly gathers itself into a position that every cat owner has seen, whether his or her cat is preparing to pounce on a frightened bird or a favorite toy. The boy knows that he must not move because this action will definitely be seen in an unfavorable light by his tribe.”

Joe shifts position in his chair, stands up and walks over to the window near the front door. “It gathers itself, sprints and jumps onto the boy, who, overweighed by at least 100 pounds, is thrown backward, and lands on his back with the lion on top. Almost like they were lovers. The difference being that the lion now has two spear points protruding upwards through both shoulders. Later, I saw that the spears had sliced the lion’s heart in quarters in an ‘X’. Death was instantaneous.

“A very short time thereafter, a shout is heard, the tribesmen, enter the compound, savagely pulling the corps of the lion off the boy. They pick up him up and carry him out of the compound as he passed out. I would have too. They carry him into one of the adjacent huts, shouting victoriously. Caught up in the activity, I entered the hut and then witnessed a costumed figure circumcise the boy. The boy is very much awake at this point. Still silent, he watches as another costumed figure pours the same mixture that he drank onto his lap.
“Whoa, Joe, no. Stop right there.” I said.

Joe, still looking out the window, ignores me and continues. “The boy screams, duh, are you still with me? Of course he screams. Ouch! Anyway, this scream is greeted by shouts of laughter by the men assembled. I later learned that the scream was a good thing. Showed he was alive and also began his journey into manhood. They explained it as being the same scream that he gave up at childbirth or something like that.

“Much later, at the feast of broiled lion, I was able to talk with the ‘new man’s’ father about most of what I’ve described so far. Then the chief elder approached me and through several interpreters explained that I should prepare myself to become a man since I would be living with them. I seriously thought that he was joking with me, you know, like the new kid at school. No, he was very serious.

“I had purchased a lion’s tooth in Nairobi, which I wore on a chain under my shirt. In a flash of inspiration, I dramatically unbuttoned my shirt, showing the tooth to all, while unbuckling my pants and pulling down my underwear. It’s none of any body’s business to know that I’m circumcised, but there was my dick hanging out for all to see.

“Been there, done that! I said. Then I pulled the chain and tooth over my head, and handed it to the chief elder. I told him that I was so brave; I punched the lion in the mouth as it tried to kill me, knocking this very tooth out.

“He looks at me inquisitively, pauses thoughtfully and asks me whether or not he understood me correctly. I tell his the story again, only this time I couldn’t help but laugh at myself for trying to pull one over on him. He thinks a moment, starts laughing so hard that he almost chokes himself. Once he got over this, he calls for silence and explains to everyone what I had just told him. They thought it was pretty funny, but later on, many of them would pass me while walking, point to their teeth and laugh.”

“That’s quite a story, I take it that you avoided a second circumcision”, I said.
“Yeah, but the point, Steve, is that a lot of American kids have it pretty easy sometimes. And yet, they bitch about some really small stuff,” he concluded.

Chapter Six – The Mwalimu

By the end of his story, we were both pretty hungry and went off in search of food. We walked for about a half an hour and were finally seated at a table, under the protection of a grove of trees at the restaurant ‘Nataly’. After our first round of drinks arrived, Joe said, “Talking about the Masai, reminded me of something. I spent one holiday during a break from teaching on an island off of the northeast coast of Kenya, very close to Somalia, somewhat above the equator. Lamu. Beautiful Lamu. I could live the rest of my life there and enjoy every minute of it.

After about a week of fishing, relaxing and generally fucking off, the locals became aware that there was a ‘mwalimu’ (teacher in Swahili) vacationing nearby.

“One day a middle aged man approached my campsite. He introduced himself as Ali Kiru. He explained that he was a fisherman, had a small dhow (a one mast dugout), and asks me to teach him how to say ‘I think so’ in English. When I questioned him for further details, he told me that often he would be asked by others to take tourists on short fishing or sailing trips. He wanted to be able to shake his head up and down thoughtfully and say ‘I think so’. Since there are a lot of British and Australian tourists, the odds would be in his favor to get a ‘fare’ if he gave them the impression that he knew how to speak English. Standard repetition and fifteen minutes later he says in perfect American English - ‘I think so, Sir’ I added that last word to increase his vocabulary. What followed was basically a lesson in conversational English until we enter into a discussion on the subject of the land, sky, and time.

Ali explains to me in Swahili, that time is measured by the position of the sun as it revolves around the land, and that during the night, the stars revolve and uses a small saucer to express this visually. He explained the phases of the moon as being God’s hand as he rotated the stars. It’s very clear to me that the sun’s movement could be seen as an infinity symbol, I was told to expect that from others living on the equator. But it was obvious that we were on opposite ends of a cross-cultural experience.

“In the hours that follow, I go on to presume that my knowledge of the universe is the one he should believe. I then proceed to explain Copernicus, Galileo, and in conclusion, reach into my backpack and take out an 8" x 11", black and white photograph of Neil Armstrong stepping onto the Moon’s surface, and another taken by Apollo XIV, showing the Earth behind the curvature of the Moon, (Earthrise) on its way back home. Thus, I explained that the Moon revolved around the Earth, the Earth and the planets of our solar system revolve around the Sun and that the Sun is slowly revolving around the galaxy, of which the sky he sees is a very small part of.

“He stops me from continuing and walks home, clearly deep in thought.”

“Wait a minute, you can’t be serious. No body could be that naive,” I said.
“I’m as serious as a heart attack. So, I retire to my sleeping bag and am suddenly awakened, hearing someone shouting ‘mwalimu, mwalimu’. It’s about four in the morning, my tent flap is open and standing in front of me is one of Ali’s sons. He’s shouting at me to get up and follow him to their home. From what I gather as I get dressed, is that it is time to fish and that his father refuses to leave his bed because the spinning earth will make it impossible for him to get his footing and that without today’s catch, the family won’t eat, etcetera.

“During this time, I’m thinking about gravity, centrifugal force, tides, much of what was left out of last night’s conversation. Once in his bedroom, I try to explain all of this stuff as well as magnetism and directions, stuff like east and west, north and south. He still won’t budge. He has me explain the tidal forces again and got up, told his sons that they would have to be responsible for today’s fishing because he had to consult with the mwalimu.

After another week of intensive navigation instruction, thanking my high school teachers who drilled relative bearing calculations into my head and for giving me a keen understanding of celestial navigation, we were able to take his dhow out for two days and not get lost on the ocean. I saw him applying his trade and speaking English rather well before I left Lamu.”

By this time, we had eaten most of our food and were well into our third round of drinks, and since nothing was planned, ordered another round. Finishing his third, Joe sighs and says, “Remember when I spent that weekend with Alan Shepard Jr. and his wife Louise, back in ‘82?”

I remarked that I did remember him telling me but that I really couldn’t say much about it. He continues after the drinks arrive. “I really admired that man. I admired his courage, being the first American astronaut and all that. Did you know that he was a pretty good golfer, so good, that Richard Nixon awarded him the ‘Lunar Duffer Award,’ remember? He hit two shots with a makeshift six iron while on the moon during Apollo XIV or XV, I forget which. But sitting here, I was thinking about a story he told me. Supposedly, this is the truth. Al and Louise were Christian Scientists, so I suspect that he told the truth most of the time.

“The story is about Werner Von Braun. They had met during the Mercury Space program. This story begins with a little background information about Von Braum. Apparently, while attending elementary school in Germany, Werner’s mother would meet him every day after school at their front door, with a plate of cookies and either hot chocolate or milk. The snack would keep his energy levels high while he completed his homework, a task he was required to complete before being allowed to play elsewhere with his friends.

“One day, young Werner, deeply interested in his rocketry experiments, decides to skip school and work out some trajectory problems. Around noon, a school official, sort of a truant officer, walks the short distance to the Von Braun home and asks Werner’s mother if her son is feeling better. Since she knows that he is not ill and did in fact leave for school that day, she becomes worried. The official assures her that he will get to the bottom of this and leaves.

“As time passes without word, she shifts from being a worried mother to an extremely worried mother. At three o’clock, the end of the school day, she is told by one of Werner’s young friends that Werner is fine, but the youngster is sworn to secrecy as to Von Braun’s whereabouts. She shifts from worry to anger.

“Four o’clock, no Werner. Five o’clock, no Werner. Now a furious mother and a very angry father now await Von Braun’s return.

“At six-thirty, he comes home, black as the Ace of spades. He looks like he has cleaned every chimney in town and smells like burnt gunpowder.

“So Werner", his mother says, "they tell me that you missed the school today!"

“Werner looks her right in the eye, somewhat dejected and somewhat defiant. "Yes, momma, that’s true. I missed the school today. But tomorrow, momma ... tomorrow ... I’m going to hit it!”

“So what happened next?” I asked, laughing at the punch line.
“I really don’t remember because I laughed so hard, I didn’t really hear Shepard finish the story. But both of them were very determined men, weren’t they?