Kenya is a place worth visiting...white sands, the highlands and of course the game reserves, with warrior tribes living inside the jungles.

The Hunt

His body, lean yet taut, the Maasai stands upright
A full six feet, the skin, a magnificent black
The face painted white and yellow, and he, ceremoniously clothed in red
A spear in one hand, the other holding a shield

She keeps close to the herd
An eye on the cheetah, lazily perched on a tree nearby
The moon, shimmering
As though watching them from within the muddy swamps

The night is bewitching, the stars bright,
He loves dancing, the songs and the feast
The nervous bride and the groom so drunk
He wonders if SHE would marry him

The antelope is but a few months old, delicate, elegant, the antlers not fully formed yet
She likes the watering hole, safe amongst the wildebeest, the zebras there
Hates the ugly, limping hyenas, circling them, laughing hysterically
Somehow the air does not smell right tonight, uncertainty, and seconds later all hell breaks loose

The drums start rolling, the men let out a loud whoop and leap into the air
The fire burns bright, the meat sizzling
He glances at her, she stands there, shy, the beads decorating her hair, her skin glowing
Discreetly watching his every move

The chase begins, the herd scatters, like pollen with the wind
On the plains of the Maasai Mara, begins a hunt, so graceful, the sleek bodies merging into the grasslands, a sight to marvel
The lioness ageing, but not one to let go
And the hunted, Oh but she is so young, the antlers not even fully formed yet

Frenzied shouts, the tipsy groom joins them
The drums beat louder, adrenalin rushing
She moves forward, bolder, very subtly, closer to him
His eyes are blazing, would she marry him, he wonders

The hyenas quiet now, watching in fascination
The cheetah lazy as before, tomorrow would be his day
The only sound, that of thundering feet and the grass swishing back and forth
The hunter now just feet away from its prey

Intoxicated, he leaps, the spear skywards, the shield afront
    The antelope now fearful, loses speed, loses hope
The fire brighter, the flames, rising higher
    The lioness springs forward, paws in mid-air
The drums beat passionately, delirious cries, a grand finale and then silence
    Young, the antlers not even fully formed yet, the antelope falls heavily to the ground, rises one final time and then motionless

He looks deep into her eyes, and finds what he wants
    She drags the carcass through the night, to her den

For the hunters, a majestic triumph
    And life returns to normal in the grasslands of the Mara