Skeleton Coast

Skeleton Coast  

     Tan dunes loom over the beach as waves rhythmically roll crashing in succession leaving a bubbly froth which recedes back into the blue sea.  
     Hermit crabs scuttle across the sand seeking refuge in the cool ocean waters. The sun burns hot in the sky as the wind whips the sand from the Namib Desert across the beach.  
     The old woman keeps watch from behind the dunes. A figure starts to emerge before her terrified eyes. A lion prowls the desolate coast for food. The old woman is well versed in the art of animal talk having grown up quite fey. She is sure of her interspecies communication skills but unsure as to whether or not her diplomacy would be enough to soothe this savage and obviously hungry beast. But the spirits of her ancestors wail for a proper burial. And so she will wait until his hunger leads him away.  
     The wind whistles across the beach and carries clouds of sand. Slowly, as layer by layer of sand is removed by the gusts. An ivory bone appears, jutting out. Soon a human skeleton worn by centuries of windblown sand emerges.  
     The wind dies down and the air clears. The lion basks in the sun, rolls and rubs his back against the hot sand. He roars with satisfaction at the pleasant friction. The lion grooms himself and licks his paws with his huge red tongue.  
     The lion looks over his shoulder and sees the skeleton, which shines white in the brilliant sunlight. He rolls over onto his paws and lumbers to the skeleton. The wrinkled lady looks on confounded by the prospect of what use the lion will put the bones to. He opens his gaping mouth and pulls a rib off. With his jagged glistening white teeth the holds the bone in his paws and chews the sailor’s rib. He wanders with the bone in his mouth and grinds it to pieces.  
     The wizen woman can take no more. She enters to within the lion’s eyesight but does not get too close. With her God-given talent, she speaks to him. “Mr. Lion, please don’t chew those bones. They are sacred relics of my ancestors who were shipwrecked and died here long before either of us was born. I have come to give them a proper burial.”  
     The Lion roars. His mouth gapes like he is a Lord of the Namib. Then he flexes his paws with his claws as though ready to pounce. She says, “I beg of you Mr. Lion, do me no harm. I know you must be hungry but I have grandchildren who need their grandma.”  
     Mr. Lion says, “I could never harm a human. Once when game was scarce it was a person who fed me and my family. They brought the choicest meats, of veal, venison, and lamb shank. I could no sooner harm a person than one of my own kind.”  
     “Well, then you are a most kind and compassionate feline. So may I go about my business of collecting these bones so that my ancestral spirits will be at peace?”  
     “Of course. But let me help you. My muscles are strong and good for digging.”  
     “I would be most grateful for your help Mr. Lion. Let us begin the task at hand.”  
     Soon a pile of bones collects upon the sand through the labor of the lion. The woman grows tired and must rest. She tells the lion, “Oh my, here I have the sack I brought but am too worn out to fill it.”  
    Mr. Lion says, “Hold the bag open and I will most gently put them in.”  
    The lion uses his teeth to pick them up and drop them in. Soon the entire mound of ivory is bagged. The old lady says, “Oh, you have done a tremendous job my brother, Lion. But my arms are old and too frail to carry this back to the camp.”  
     The Lion says, “Here I come to the rescue. I can hold the bag with my mouth and be your arms.”  
    The woman says, “For sparing my life you will be repaid tenfold. I will pay the game wardens to bring you and your family food. You will never go hungry again.”  
     The Lion raises himself up on his front legs and roars. He says, “Milady may I lick your hand in thanks?”  
     The fey woman holds out her hand. But the Lion spots a rib gradually being washed out into the ocean as it rolls back and forth through the froth with each tumbling wave. He plunges into the water and retrieves the last relic. Time passes slowly on the hungry coast.