Once upon a time in a land where time did not matter, there lived a little lion named Kineosho. He was no ordinary lion cub. In fact, he was the result of a rather extraordinary chain of events that occurred one crisp autumn.
Kineosho’s story began in a somewhat quaint setting — a cosy little cave with a majestic lion and lioness. There was freshly imported grass from their savannah homeland scattered abundantly on the cave floor. The soothing smell of damp earth wafted through the air as the dense, humid jungle hummed and croaked outside the cave. A touch of delicate light from a crescent moon completed the romantic scene for all but a half-blind, chronically asthmatic aardvark.
Now as romantic as the atmosphere was for the lions, normally the couple would not do anything well, romantic. In fact, they had successfully avoided doing anything romantic for quite a long while already. The pair had long agreed that intelligent and responsible lions should not produce offspring as the world was just not what it used to be.
The conservationists, on the other paw, had been trying for cubs for many moons already without success: IVF treatments, test tube cubs — you name it and they had tried it. More recently, they had tried to simulate an environment that would allow the instinctive urges of the regal pair to kick in without luck. Unwittingly, this time they had scored. That night had one different ingredient that nobody had counted on: neither the smart couple nor the six scientist-types that anxiously watched the video feed of the cave.
The ingredient lay in the half eaten gazelle that lay in the cave corner. Poor thing. Not poor because it had just been killed but rather because it had never managed to resolve those deep identity issues it was so involved in exploring. The gazelle was born close to a herd of stampeding elephants and since then, the very sight of elephants that caused enormous trauma for mama gazelle, gave baby gazelle a lot of comfort. In fact, so much so that baby gazelle thought it was just a late bloomer and that its own trunk would eventually grow someday. The little gazelle happily followed the elephants around as it grew up, oblivious of how strange it all looked. The elephants, of course, didn’t help matters by befriending it.
Earlier that very day, the friendly elephants had stumbled onto a stash of marula fruit and decided to have a party. Now there is nothing quite like a bunch of yob elephants imposing peer pressure on a confused gazelle. The animals indulged, the marula fruit fermented, the elephants fell asleep peacefully, and the little gazelle went totally berserk. After randomly ramming its head against some trees it attempted to leap over an electrified fence and half killed itself.
As luck would have it, the conservationists were on their way to witness breeding attempt number 108. They spotted the dazed gazelle and immediately stopped their minibus. Initially, they all found it rather amusing to see it drunkenly wobbling on its feet making some peculiar, almost elephant-like sounds. When the gazelle glared at them and started trying to flap its ears threateningly they were practically rolling with laughter outside their van.
They were not as amused with what happened right after. The gazelle stormed straight toward them. It headed first for the evil creature in the colourful floral frock which held a threatening-looking black device making the blinding bursts of light hurting its eyes. A Kodak moment if ever there were one.
The gazelle took a flying leap and head-butted the lady’s stomach with its trunk. It then began bleating uncontrollably as it shook its head and chewed on her blouse. The lady ran yelling and in tears and one of the other conservationists finally had a clear shot with his tranquilliser gun. Thud! Bleat! Gazelle down.
The conservationists nursed their traumatised colleague, Rosemary, back to her senses and agreed they would let the animal recover before deciding what to do. When the elegantly large lady finally managed to speak, she blurted out a string of expletives that would have made Eddie Murphy blush. She then demanded they feed the deranged buck to the lions. Her colleagues promptly rationalised and commented on what a great idea that was — after all, lions in their natural environment with a fresh kill of their own… what could be more conducive for the couple than that!
The little gazelle whimpered a confused, low bleat as they loaded it on the roof of the minibus and finally delivered it to a feeding area close to the lions’ cave. The combination of the tranquilizer and marula fruit resulted in a dozy gazelle totally disconnected from its surroundings. Barely a few minutes later, the gazelle could have sworn it saw a cute kitty cat leaping happily around it. And then everything went black.
Unfortunately for the lion pair and fortunately for the conservationists, twelve minutes after the meal ended a gush of serotonin was released into the couple’s bloodstream. They gazed into each other’s eyes and suddenly felt so very warm and happy. No doubt it was not the first time that recreational edibles resulted in an unwanted pregnancy.
About four full moons later, the conservationists were huddled in their observation room near the cave again. It was a public holiday of some sort and the park rangers were only too happy to leave the geeky scientists on their own. They had been called out on false alarms eight times already by the conservationists and had finally agreed to allow them free access to the observation deck without having the rangers present.
The conservationists looked more enthusiastic than usual — sure that this was going to be the big day they had been waiting for. Rosemary had prepared herself by wearing an elaborate sequined green dress with a big white hat. She reminded the group of how she had bravely battled the crazed wild gazelle earlier that year. After all, if it wasn’t for her insightful suggestion they wouldn’t be witnessing the miracle of a lion cub birth.
The tension built as the seconds passed — and then finally it happened. Kineosho was born.
The conservationists anxiously looked on and wondered how many cubs would appear. They expected three kittens based on their research and were rather surprised to find that only one was born. Of course they didn’t realise that this was because after many years of evolution even lions had adapted themselves to have increasingly fewer cubs. Cub-care was an enormous strain for parent lions and this, together with the lack of predators, drove the genetics behind having fewer offspring.
Swimming in another gene pool altogether, Rosemary waved frantically and yelled at the lions to move so she could see the new cub. Enamoured with her achievement, she looked at the cub and then at her husband and the other conservationists. She tugged at her husband’s sleeve and sheepishly suggested that they name the cub Rosemary, after her. She felt it only appropriate given that it looked so much like her.
Her husband shrugged and agreed with quiet resignation. His colleagues giggled silently as they had already determined and noted that Rosemary was actually a little boy cub.
The conservationists continued jotting down detailed notes about the miracle birth they had just witnessed. Rosemary, in the meantime, ambled around the observation deck wondering what it would be like to pat the little cub and keep her as a pet. The lion family looked so sweet, gentle and caring.
Rosemary slowly daydreamed her way to the far end of the deck. There, she spotted an unlocked door brightly labelled ‘Feeding hatch — no unauthorized personnel’. “Hmmm…” she thought, “perhaps I could get close enough to take a photo and really capture the moment!” She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching and opened the feeding hatch. She opened the extra security door after it and braced herself to get a closer peek at her new pet. “Oh, such an adventure!” she thought.
About four minutes later, Rosemary healthily contributed to the annual statistic of humans getting mauled by a wild animal whilst parading outside the secure area of a national park. The conservationists looked on in horror as Griffon, the powerful male lion, angrily ripped off chunks of flesh from the potential threat to his new cub. Curie, the new mother, wondered what the strange wobbly human meant by calling out Rosemary so many times. “Do you think she was looking for rosemary leaves near the cave? What was she thinking!” asked Curie.
“Who knows with these humans… guess her thyme was up,” grinned Griffon.
“Oh that was your worst pun yet Griffon… you really should leave the comedy to the crazy camels and aardvarks!” replied Curie with a playful roll of her eyes.
The conservationists were still in shock having seen their colleague’s wife mauled by a lion. They tried to call the park rangers all of whom had already moved out of contact range. The only person in the room that seemed to be calm was Rosemary’s husband. Actually the others had not noticed but he had a slight twinkle in his eye. He was the first to suggest that they leave and return to the ranger’s village for help. The others agreed immediately and they all jumped into their minibus.
Griffon pawed at the cub and tickled its stomach as he heard the minibus speed off. He sighed deeply when Kineosho smiled in response. “Never thought I’d say it, but I’m quite looking forward to this,” said Griffon quietly. All rationality had slipped out of his mind — there were neither thoughts of leaving legacies nor intellectualised debate about the pros and cons of procreating. He was overcome with a feeling of awe of what slept innocently before him.
“You know we need to get out of here — we can’t stay and risk these monkeys coming in and doing tests on Kineosho like they did on us when we first got here,” said Curie.
“I know,” replied Griffon. “We leave tomorrow morning — early. Let’s get some rest now… it’s been a long day.”
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