As I
was surfing through the channels one night I landed on a nature
program. It was about a lion family in the African savannah - two
sister lionesses and their cubs. The camera followed them from birth to
adulthood. In the savannah, you know, even if you're the lion king's
son, life is fragile. Hyenas and crocodiles and other predators wants
to eat you; a kick from a threatened giraffe can kill you; a snake bite
can....well, you get the idea. But the biggest danger of them all is
from a male lion who wants your mom's full attention. He'd kill you for
that. Anyway, we will not tire you with the entire two years the
program covered. Let's just fast forward to when the cubs were
adolescent, just a hair shy of being full and independent adults. On
that night the clouds hid the moon, the music went dramatic, and the
voice of the narrator was hinting of trouble to come. And come they
did.
When the sun rose over the savannah, the family was licking its wounds and counting survivors. One cub was missing from the kisses & hugs session. He laid a few meters away under a bush. He was fatally wounded. He, as well as his family, knew that he would not survive. Sitting on the couch I could feel the drama growing by the minute. It wasn't very hard thanks to the excellent editing - music, camera angles, changing colors, etc. But even the best video editing could not produce what nature itself provided without any sophisticated technology: the I'm-going-to-die desperate look on the nearly-a-lion-now cub; the moans of his mom, laying just meters away; the look in her eyes, knowing that her son is dying while she's unable to help him.
All this is very dramatic, of course. That's how the documentary was made; that's what it intended to do. It was just unclear if the director had any awareness of humans who experienced just that - who sat next to their dying child, unable to help them. Who saw Death itself, close and in person, comes closer and closer and without asking anybody for any permission reached and took what's not his - and now is - and leaves without anybody able to challenge him. (Sort of like a leopard who worked so hard at killing a deer, and just as he's getting ready to enjoy his prey, a much bigger lion comes by, casually takes what's not his - and now is. - and bites into "his" free dinner. And all the leopard can do is watch in frustration.
In those 5 seconds that the camera caught the lioness' sad and desperate look, when we looked into each other eyes, I felt that I knew how she felt. We never met personally, we live on two different continents, she's a wild animal and I'm human (although some might contest that). Yet, at that very moment we shared exactly the same feeling. The lioness does not speak our language, but even if she did, we would have understood each other perfectly even without any spoken words. I wanted to reach in and pet her, whisper in her ear that I know the feeling (as if it would have made any difference). But as I was reaching into the screen, the camera shifted toward the sky again.
Then she and her remaining twin cub got up, passed next to the dead boy to say their final goodbye - much like us - and moved on. In the savannah you must move on, kill and hope not to be killed. Life must go on. And Death, who pretends to stay behind, is surely ambushing just around the corner.
When the sun rose over the savannah, the family was licking its wounds and counting survivors. One cub was missing from the kisses & hugs session. He laid a few meters away under a bush. He was fatally wounded. He, as well as his family, knew that he would not survive. Sitting on the couch I could feel the drama growing by the minute. It wasn't very hard thanks to the excellent editing - music, camera angles, changing colors, etc. But even the best video editing could not produce what nature itself provided without any sophisticated technology: the I'm-going-to-die desperate look on the nearly-a-lion-now cub; the moans of his mom, laying just meters away; the look in her eyes, knowing that her son is dying while she's unable to help him.
All this is very dramatic, of course. That's how the documentary was made; that's what it intended to do. It was just unclear if the director had any awareness of humans who experienced just that - who sat next to their dying child, unable to help them. Who saw Death itself, close and in person, comes closer and closer and without asking anybody for any permission reached and took what's not his - and now is - and leaves without anybody able to challenge him. (Sort of like a leopard who worked so hard at killing a deer, and just as he's getting ready to enjoy his prey, a much bigger lion comes by, casually takes what's not his - and now is. - and bites into "his" free dinner. And all the leopard can do is watch in frustration.
In those 5 seconds that the camera caught the lioness' sad and desperate look, when we looked into each other eyes, I felt that I knew how she felt. We never met personally, we live on two different continents, she's a wild animal and I'm human (although some might contest that). Yet, at that very moment we shared exactly the same feeling. The lioness does not speak our language, but even if she did, we would have understood each other perfectly even without any spoken words. I wanted to reach in and pet her, whisper in her ear that I know the feeling (as if it would have made any difference). But as I was reaching into the screen, the camera shifted toward the sky again.
Then she and her remaining twin cub got up, passed next to the dead boy to say their final goodbye - much like us - and moved on. In the savannah you must move on, kill and hope not to be killed. Life must go on. And Death, who pretends to stay behind, is surely ambushing just around the corner.
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