My Lioness Flickers Between Serengeti Moonbeams

My Lioness Flickers Between Serengeti Moonbeams          

     Our African vacation starts at a luxury hotel in Nairobi. But I pine for a photographic safari into the Serengeti. Over breakfast, I break some news for Jane. “Hey let’s try this on for size. Jane, I want to take you on a safari into Tanzania. Maybe we’ll have an adventure like in a J.G. Ballard novel.”
     She says, “You’re so crazy, but truly we could face off with a pride of lions looking for supper. The signs ain’t good darling. The continental breakfast bar at this hotel is more than enough for me. We can go to the market and try the cuisine.”
     “Oh come on. We’ll keep our distance from those big cats. We may just come upon some zebras or black rhinos. I can get your pic with an elephant to show the folks back home,” I reply with a Cheshire Cat grin.
     “Well OK John, but I warned you.” She lets me help her put on her summer dress, and looks like a sunflower in her yellow floral print gown.
      The next morning our time comes to depart for the Serengeti outback. Jane straps herself in the seat belt. I drive us in our rented jeep with the wind rushing over my ears. We drive south along the dusty road. We pass through coffee groves, spotting out women harvesting that magic bean in the misty mountains. After passing the trees, our journey takes us to the rim of the Ngorongoro Crater below which vistas of Lake Magadi shimmering under the clouds, and the Garden of Eden for exotic wildlife lies. The silver water is home to thousands of flamingoes that we pass by on our odyssey into a land so rich and vivid that it seems to glow in the afternoon light.
     Jane puts on an impish grin. “Hey honey, you know those birds most often mate for life. will ours be a flamingo kind of love?”
     “You are the only pink cocktail I need. And you don’t have to lay an egg for me to be happy.”
     “So, you are comparing me to an eggless bird and an alcoholic beverage. What compliments.”
     “Your love is better than a margarita and doesn’t require incubation like an egg.”
     “But look at all the flamingoes in this lake. Are you telling me my feathers are a shade pinker than the next avian ballerina?”
     “Not just hotter pink but you don’t squawk so much. I love the shy but deep lady you are.”
     “Trust me I can nag like the best. But really are you satisfied without chicks to share the nest with?”
     “You are my baby.”
     “And we have this African Eden to our lonesome selves. I am your Eve before the expulsion.”
     “I’d rather live with you outside of the garden than without you inside. Everywhere you are is Eden. The only apple I need is the one you cook up in your pie.”
     “We are a far piece from where those apples grow.”
     “I suppose we’ll make do. You are the apple of my eye.”
     “I am more to you than my homemade apple pie. You put a spark in my eye. Enough to start a bonfire.”    
     After we follow the road along the lakeshore and spot a family of hippopotamuses bathing in the cool waters. Then we come upon actual people of the Maasai tribe herding cattle across the plains. We wave to them and they wave back and I feel we are among family going back millions of years to our ancestral genesis here in the motherland of humanity. I have never seen such magnificent vistas in all my life. We stop to chat with the nomads about where the best places to see wildlife are. The leader is a wizened man with a staff carved in what appears to be legends of his tribe. He looks like someone out of National Geographic and points ahead to a distant arc in the lake which I gaze at with binoculars. There I see a herd of zebras, smile, and shake his hand.  
     We head north on the washboard dirt road. The jeep shakes so badly that it feels like it will fall apart at any moment. We travel deeper and deeper into the horizon finding more flamingoes wading together. We don’t see any other vehicles but our own. A vast panorama stretches out ahead of us and an elephant sprays us with water from his trunk as we pass by.
     Jane giggles. “I think that elephant was reminding us to bathe. Let’s go skinny dipping in the lake tonight.”
     “Under the full moon. You have me dreaming.”
     She replies, “They have wardens out here to keep out the poachers.”
     “Then we’ll leave our undies on to look decent.”
     “You are a genius.”
     We pass thatched roof huts and herds of zebra roaming the wilderness. As we round the lake a flock of flamingoes takes off in a pink cloud over us. They must number in the hundreds and are graceful as ballerinas in their flight as they head toward the far-off crater rim, a sight witnessed by our ancestors for epochs, no doubt. In the rearview mirror, I see a group Maasai on their trek as ancient as homo sapiens following the trails across the fields we share in this timeless moment. We follow the narrow park road to a campsite on the shore where the sound of windblown water lapping is a lullaby. There people have sat around the campfire reciting legends and we are silent witness to the ancient ones.
     We park and get out our backpacks with blankets, food, and other supplies to help us sustain us in the lush wilderness. I unpack our propane stove and she takes out our food as we gaze silently across the fruited plains until the sun is low on the horizon. The whole thing is done in silence, comfortable silence.
     I remind Jane, “Bath time! Slip out of those duds and let’s get fresh.”
     We wade in the lake up to our thighs. She says, “In this moonlight you look like Tarzan.”
     I tell her, “You are my Jane.”
     “Well then, splash my back so I can be fresh for the night.”
     I cup the water in my hands and pour it down her panties. She says, “You brat. I didn’t tell you to do that! That water is cold!”
     “Cold as a witch on Halloween.”
     “But surely you don’t want me cold?”
     “I don’t know what got into me. Forgive me.”
     “Of course. Now let’s kiss and make up.”
     Just as our lips touch Jane scoops up some water and pours it down my briefs. “You little devil,” I tell her. And we kiss under the full moon like fairies in an enchanted land.
     She slips out of her intimate apparel and we lie on our backs together gazing at the night sky. She points at the shooting stars as they blaze a path past the stars. “You know some say life came to earth from meteors like those.”
     “They look like little gametes trying to impregnate Gaia, don’t they?”
     “They do indeed,” she whispers. “Is my womb like a planet that can’t sustain life?”
     “More like a world ready for the seeds of our love for each other. We don’t need to grow any crops other than in our hearts for each other.”
     She smiles and we cuddle like lions in the grassy plains of forever.
     Finally, we spread our blankets in the grass. We are covered in shadows from the ridge as the sun starts to sink below the horizon. I hear jackals howl mournfully in the distance. Soon we are immersed in pitch-black darkness. The stars shine like millions of candles in the velvet black bowl of the night sky. Jane asks me, “Are you afraid?”
     I say, “No more than normal.” We undress and wrap the wool blankets around us to keep warm with each other’s bodies in the cool dry season crater night.    
     She reaches over, puts her finger to my lips, and says, “You know with your high cholesterol and atrocious diet, you are a prime candidate for a heart
attack. I could give you a coronary.”
     “What better way to join the choir invisible?”
     She replies, “That’s not funny.”
     “Don’t worry. My heart is as strong as an ox.” She beams her lipstick smile upon me.
     She answers, “Well your physician said you can take a licking and keep on ticking. So, who am I to dispute a board-certified doctor?”
     I reply, “Something tells me your interests lie beyond medical science.”
     She says, “But the last thing I would want is to lose you and leave our child fatherless.”
     I say, “I am made of iron. And if we make life together, I plan to be around to teach our bundle of joy to say Mama and Daddy.”
     “I’m a worrier, you know me. But I should know better. Let’s see if a miracle happens tonight. What better place than here where humanity began its crazy journey,” Jane says.
     Suddenly I hear footsteps and a scraping sound.
I stand up, look at the edge the clearing, and see two glowing eyes look back at me. I shine my flashlight and see a lioness prowling whose sheen of tawny velvet fur ripples in sinewy majesty in the desert night. She struts the smaller figure of a female lion but no less ferocious than the male of her species.
     She opens her mouth and reveals huge sharp ivory incisors in the beam of my flashlight. Jane stands there and they look at each other for a moment, and I see real fear from Jane’s face. I can see the hunger in her eyes and it reflects somehow the hunger I see in Jane’s eyes. They stare at each other. Both Jane’s and the panther’s eyes glaze.
     I can see she is stalking.  Jane takes my Colt-45 out of the pack and aims it between her eyes. For a moment Jane freezes. The Perseids blaze their trails overhead. My heart beats wildly. Then Jane pulls the trigger. Afterward, she blows the smoke from the gun’s barrel with her target having been the night sky. The lioness leaps away and I hear her running into the night roaring.
     Jane stands up, turns around, and faces me. We are both naked and she walks toward me. She lays me down on the blanket. I ask, “Are you going to seduce me with black magic?” I am her Pegasus whom she rides under the zodiac wheel. Within her heat and flame I know the fallen angels of my nameless purgatory.
    She looks up at the sky. Her vibrato puts a crack in the glass ceiling big enough for her to climb a ladder through onto the podium upon which she conducts the orchestra.
     I gaze up at the soft smooth roundness of her moonlit cheeks as my communal being streams upward like a swarm of moths and I ascend the tornado.
     Upon awakening my heart is heavy with the news I must tell her. “Honey, I got hired as a cross country truck driver back home. The pay is one hundred thousand a year. This will mean we can pay off our mortgage in five years. But I’ll be gone all but five days out of the month. Just think of how great it will feel to own our home free and clear. No more notes but the best part is no danger of foreclosure even if I become unemployed.”
     “What in the hell are you saying? I saved you from the lioness and you shock me with this news?”
     “You sure did shoo that lioness off.”
     “I hope you don’t need a change of scenery too.”
     “Sweetie, I’ll call you every night from the motel. I’ll bring my laptop so we can do the video
thing.”
     “The lioness was a piece of cake compared to what you’re laying on me. The next thing you’ll say is that you’re having an affair on me.”
     “Of course I’d never cheat on you.”
     The first blush of dawn arrives. On either side of Jane, savannah grass ripples like the muscles of the lioness on her hungry prowl. Jane is garbed in floral prints like a bridesmaid. Jane intones, “How dare I dress for a wedding with vultures already circling the corpse of our domesticity?”
     With the desperation of a madwoman who won’t let go of her delusion that she can talk me out of it, she calls out, “Meet me under the magnolia tree where we fell in love. It is time for breakfast. Let’s go home. John, soon it will be the heat of the day. You’re fair skinned. We can’t risk you getting heat stroke.”
     We greet the newborn sun over coffee and bread. I breathe to the rhythm of her breaths. Each breath is a silent prayer to hear her say, “When you are gone, I will wait for you in the bed we made together.”
    But instead, she says, “You know going long distances in a rig is hard on your back.”
     I reply, “It may be easier on my wallet. But it sure ain’t worth losing you. You’ve put the fear of God in me.”
     She says, “You cry uncle better than most roosters can crow.”
     When the land emerges from the shadows, I say, “That lioness was a harsh mistress and you danced with her under the pale blue moon.”
     “Did you bring me out here so I’d have nothing to do but make out?”
     “I thought you needed to get off the consumer bandwagon for a while to a place with no stores.”
     “It is best we keep my beast caged,” she says.
     I reply, “Zoos are where wildcats are tamed. I’d rather let your lynx roam free.”
     “You’ll be the one to explain the scratches on your back to our friends at the pool.”
     Jane slips out of her sweat-soaked nightgown and the cool morning air rushes over her skin. She unpacks her second dress and slips it on.    
     We sit on the hood and gaze at wildebeests roaming across the savannah. The green of my heart reflects the African Eden whose panorama is ours to behold. The world around me is quiet as before the earth was born. I feel the cool steel of the jeep under my hands. This chariot of steel brought us across the Africa of our ancestral home.
     Jane whispers like the wind, “Do you think you put a biscuit in my oven?”
     “That is the logical place for one.”
     “Don’t tease me.”
     “Ok, how do you feel?”
     “Like I’ll be feeding two people when I dine soon.”
     “Your cheeks look rosy and healthy.”
     “You think it is a sign?”
     “Do you feel hungry?”
     “Cut it out silly.”
     “You look like a pollinated cherry blossom ready to bear fruit.”  
     “I feel like one.”
     The sun crawls across the sky like a saffron cloud. Jane sits in the passenger seat, next to me. The tide of sunlight floods into the sky in the final moment before I turn the ignition.
     Three years later in New Orleans: I tell her, “I never thought I’d be glad at the prospect of a bigger grocery bill, but I am the happiest Dad alive.”
    “John, I know I’ve finally given you a baby. Whew, it was about time, huh. But would you keep me even if I hadn’t given birth?”
     “There are no if, ands, or buts about it. Honey, I can always count on being your shoulder to cry on. You are moody, prone to weeping spells, and in need of constant attention. Besides that, you’re cute as a button. So you are my baby.”
    “Oh, you silver-tongued charmer. John when you get a tickle in your throat you act like you’ve got pneumonia. When your allergies kick up you have me apply mentholatum ointment, drip salt water down your nose, and it’s like being at work at the hospital. If your hamburgers aren’t well done you curl your lips. When I substitute tofu for meatballs in your spaghetti you play with your food and leave a pile of bean curd while eating only the noodles.”
     I say, “Honey, let’s double celebrate. How about we share a quart of chocolate ice cream?”
     “Well, there is all that fat and sugar. But it is our son’s birthday. So, it sounds reasonable. But I may put on some pounds.”
     “More to love” I riposte.
     “Let’s grow fat together” she quips.
     “You don’t have to be pregnant to get those love handles which I love to squeeze. But we had a boy. You’re outnumbered two to one.”
     “True, but how would I stay sane without a toddler to break into my chocolate stash?”
    “This morning, his face was all smeared in the fudge we were saving for his birthday party. He is a mischievous little Tike.”
    “John, Kaldi is as curious as a cat to my Queen of Sheba. This morning, he was climbing the jungle gym in the backyard. He only learned to walk a year ago.”
     I replied, “He was aptly named after the Ethiopian goatherd who discovered coffee. He is a curious cat like a feline who no doubt purred in Cleopatra’s lap.”
     She says, “You know I wonder if you are his only biological father?”  
     I say, “What on God’s green earth are you telling me?”  
     “You know I’d never sleep with another man. No what I mean is one of those shooting stars we witnessed that night in Africa might have been a ghost seed that hitched a ride on your gametes to penetrate my womb and voila here he is!”  
     “Are you saying he is our star child?”  
     Jane replies, “We tried so many times, but finally a miracle happened.”  
     “That is one explanation. Then again it might have been the primal night with all its energy.”  
     Jane replies, “I prefer the divine intervention reason to the beast within. And there were stars in your eyes. They say our bodies are made of the carbon from long dead stars. Nothing to fret about. You are his earthly father as sure as the day dawns.”
     One fall morning in late September, Kaldi lies in his crib next to the bed crying.  I watch Jane remove his toddler outfit to let him bask in the sun. He rolls in the grass and digs in the dirt. Then Jane bathes him in the outdoor bucket which he loves. His belly jiggles like jello as Jane tickles his tummy. Soon his mirth makes us laugh too.
     Jane’s hands rub him and wash him in Mother Nature’s baptism. She sends water flowing across him. Bye bye baby blues for our son. Knee deep in his bath, he bobs like an apple while held securely in Jane’s hands. Jane lifts our wet baby out, while he wiggles and giggles. Our precious boy feels the sun, Jane’s touch, and smiles with her. Jane’s fingers caress the strands of his wet hair.
     She hefts him and uses a towel to dry him. From there she cradles him and rocks him in her arms. Jane’s eyes are half shut in a Buddha trance.  This is the part I call her Zen of motherhood. Jane sticks her tongue out and makes gurgling noises.
     Like poetry and painting, being a Mama is an art. Each brushstroke of mother to son bonding brings Kaldi closer to who he will become. But like an architect, I can see the foundation already in his eye glitter.
     Unlike making buildings, Jane doesn’t have to plan each step. It comes to her as naturally as spring cherry blossoms. It is more like a spontaneous flamenco dance with Jane taking the lead. But sometimes they start with Jane miming Kaldi’s flailing arms and tentative smiles. Soon they hold hands and Jane’s touch sparks the mad gleam in his’s eyes. Jane’s “Muah, Muah” awakens him from sleepiness. How will she ever get him to nap?
     Jane takes Kaldi out to the front porch swing and sits down holding him.  Kaldi mewls.  Jane draws him to her bosom where she sits on the porch swing. Jane lowers the strap of her dress and lets him, nurse.
     I sit there, watching Kaldi’s tiny mouth nibbling with his baby teeth and sucking her nipple. Even his nips bring a smile to Jane’s face. With the eyes of a loving mother, Jane looks down at Kaldi and kisses him on the head. Our baby will grow naturally as the lilies in the field.
     Jane tells him “My boy you make me grin like a possum eating a sweet potato.” She continues, “Your Daddy is happy as a tick on a fat dog to know I gave him a son. But you look plum tuckered. It is nap time. When you get older I will teach you these phrases and you will wonder what
planet Mama came from.”