Some situations demand courage

The French town of Western USA. “What?” I can hear you shout! But no, I’m not off my rocker. I’m told there is a French town in USA known as Missoula, which is in Montana State. The state’s name itself is a Spanish word meaning ‘mountain’ (montaňa). But, US multilingualism alone, the vicinity of the city of Missoula was recently the scene of a rare feat of bravery, demonstrated by a lady who doesn’t care for her identity to be divulged. She beat off a charging black bear that was the size of a small bull with a courgette! “What?” I can hear you shout again, which means you are linguistically challenged, like yours truly. When I consulted my dictionary, I could as well have consulted my illiterate uncle in Musanze, for all the information it gave me. For the meaning of ‘courgette’, the dictionary simply gave me ‘zucchini’. Luckily, this is the age of computers, those know-all machines that have turned brains into irrelevant organs. Any vocabulary you want, they have it. So, when my computer explained that a ‘courgette’ is ‘an edible gourd’, I understood. Unfortunately, if you are not BBC (born before computers), and don’t speak Kinyarwanda, the computer will not help you either. A gourd is ‘igicuma’ in Kinyarwanda which, by the wildest imaginations, is not edible. So, by ‘edible gourd’, I understood ‘nibwendebupfe’. This means a vegetable of the gourd family that is cherished for its deliciousness. In reality, that name is a whole sentence and means “it can as well be forgotten.” Kinyarwanda legend has it that it refers to a bridegroom who was due for his wedding. Before going to wed, he was offered a lunch that consisted of those ‘edible gourds’. But they were so tasty that all efforts to persuade him to leave his lunch and go for his wedding proved futile as he repeatedly shouted to his handlers: “It can as well be forgotten!”…… Anyway, I digress. I was talking about a lady who fended off a large bear. Before turning in for the evening at midnight, the lady opened her back door to let her three dogs out. Two of the dogs made crazy noises and hastily took flight. Bewildered, the woman peered into the dark night only to see a large, dark form emerge and come for them, where she and the third dog stood on the back porch. The bear was soon on top of the dog, trying to maul it. The woman gave the male bear a hard kick in the ‘you-know-whats’ between the legs, but that only served to incense the animal more. It would, you too! The bear swiped at her, tearing through her trouser leg and scratching her thigh. She reached back on her kitchen table and grabbed a courgette and hurled it at the bear. The courgette hit its head and the animal took off faster than a bullet. I must say I admire the courage of this lady. Not so much for using a soft, tasty ‘lunch’ on the head of a 100-kg-plus bear, but for living all alone in the wild. Or is it because she knows that these animals of the West are all wets? Can you imagine your pack of hunter dogs leaving you high and dry when you are in danger? Not even at the scare of a growling lion! And, say, a leopard being scared off by the blow of a ripe banana on its head? That will be a leopard not worth the spots on his skin! Me, I have privileged knowledge of African animals. I remember recounting to you this encounter I had with a leopard one evening in the early 1960s, when I was a herds-boy. I used to act as the milk delivery boy, during the dry season when our cattle had nomadically relocated to Cahafi Lake valley. That particular day, I’d waited for the rain to cease but, when it could not let up, I decided to brave it. Problem was, it was late and by the time I covered half the way to my home, it was dark evening. Normally, a leopard posed no danger as it used to follow me at a discreet distance until it saw that I was near home. This time, however, I must have startled it in the pitch dark because I suddenly saw its glittering white teeth practically in my face. It was lunging for me, having not heard me approach. I could not use my stick as it was too near, so I took the only option available to me. I sank my hand into its throat and pulled at its upper part of the gut with all my strength, twisting as I pulled. It made gurgling noises as if pleading for mercy. And sure, I felt pity for it but what could I do? It was either its pain or my life. When I felt it was too weak to harm me, I let go and went my way. Anything softer would not have done. But, of course, it was bye to the milk I’d been balancing on my head. ingina2@yahoo.co.uk