Dear Lord, just a little addendum. If I ever have sex again, please, please don't let the man run away and leave me to get eaten by a fucking lion.
Un. The lion
Sex romp ends in lion horror
By DAN MACLEOD
Last Updated: 1:16 AM, March 7, 2013
Men snicker when they tell my story, this dark joke, as if to punish every woman. Not all men are like this, but enough are. If I had lived, I would probably have remained silent. Because I'm gone now, and men talk, this silenced rage takes on its own life. If I could tell you my story, there are many, many things you could not bear to hear, but I would tell them anyway, and you would have to listen. I would pin you down and tear into you, and you would hear me.
A man tells a story about a woman who suffers the consequences. Because this woman is unmarried and takes her pleasure in the open air--not quietly behind a locked door with the curtains drawn--this woman gets what she deserves. Because she is unmarried, she must meet the man in secret. You know the old story. She is torn apart by her reckless passion and pays for pleasure with her life. Some men will grieve, but more will laugh.
That woman is not me and that is not my story. Any woman would imagine my story differently. Ask any woman.
Kariba, Zimbabwe, is not the best place to be in March, at the end of our long, hot rainy season. The earth looks red and steamy beneath so much lush greenery. A few tourists still come to the park to fish and to look at wild animals: elephants, egrets, herons, and kingfisher, crocodiles and impala. Lake Kariba is choked with water hyacinth, filled with fish and the drowned, petrified skeletons of mapane trees. The air always rings with bird call and is heavy with the smell of the vegetation.
He is a fisherman and I worked at the market. We would meet at our favorite spot late in the afternoon, when his work was done. He would shower first, to wash away the stink of fish, and he always smelled good for me, like cologne and clean, fresh clothing, but still like a man. He would bring a small rucksack with a few sweets, a bottle of water, and a blanket.
We would meet along the road by a clearing and enter the bush, which was like leaving the world. Sometimes we held hands and ran; sometimes when he was in a bad mood he walked on ahead of me. Other times he made me laugh till I wept. Whatever his mood, when we found our spot, concealed by the bush, he would drop the rucksack and spread the blanket and we would lie down together.
Sometimes we looked up at the sky and held hands, but usually we were in too much of a rush. We left sentences unfinished, words sank to the bottom of the lake like pebbles. The market place, the fish caught in their nets, all of it was a dream. Always the mineral scent of damp earth blowing in the hot wind. All our troubles forgotten, blown away.
I must have smelled the lion first, but the tingle of hair standing on end was lost in all the other sensations. My attention was on building my pleasure and I had waited all day and maybe all my life for such joy. Inside the bushes, right behind our heads, we heard the growl. The man sprang off me in almost the same instant that the lion sprang on. It clamped its teeth down on my neck and shook me in the same way a house cat would shake a mouse in its jaws, to snap the neck.
While it tossed me into the air, my lover fled. As fast as his legs would take him, he ran away. Before he reached the road, his legs gave out and he turned around, naked and panting, to vomit.
His body shook while he looked back to watch the lion finish me. He could do nothing more.
Trois. And the wardrobe malfunction
A WOMAN was mauled to death by lions as she made love to her boyfriend in the bush.
Sharai Mawera died on Tuesday after the animals pounced as she enjoyed a romantic al fresco moment with her unnamed partner, the Herald reported.
Mawera's boyfriend, who has not been identified, is believed to have fled in the nude when the lions struck. He raised the alarm.