April 1, 2007
Mole National Park, Ghana
What? You got a problem? We got some kind of problem here? Why don’t you come over here and tell me about it? I’ll stomp the shit out of you!
These people, always getting in my face. I mean, here I am, out for a walk with my girl, getting a bite to eat now and then, and what do you know? Along comes a group of humans with nothing better to do than gawk at us.
Well, I’ve had enough. The next one of you takes a step closer, gets smushed.
I can always tell when they’re coming, too. Without loud, smelly humans around the savannah is always chill – or nearly always, unless the hyenas are stirring up trouble.
But every now and then you hear that mechanical racket. One of them rolling metal pods shows up and bursts out a bunch of stupid, pasty-faced primates, trying to sneak up and spy on us with their little electronic gadgets.
We’re polite; we try to ignore them. What do we care if they’re passing through? We don’t kick up a fuss for the warthogs or the waterbucks; we’re casual, you know? Live and let live, and you live a long time.
But noooo, that’s just too much for you humans to handle. You gotta be nosy. You have to get “a closer look.” (What, you think I can’t hear you? Look at these ears, runt!)
What a bunch of peeping Toms. Let me give you some advice: when I knock this tree down, take a hint. You’re next.
I’m not a rude pachyderm. I am, in fact, a gentleman. I don’t need to embarrass people. I can smell your fear from here, and you reek. Mission accomplished, as far as I’m concerned.
Me and my lady are going to amble on over this way. Why don’t you all just crawl back into your pod and skedaddle. Go find some crocodiles to ogle. G.