Maurice & Friends

Just as we have survived the upheaval of Kenya’s near tribal war between the Kikuyu and Luo factions over our government posts, we have regional famine going on. We have had to tighten our collective belts. Suddenly our economic boom has been negated and we have situations on our borders; Somalia is starving and Ethiopia has another drought going on. The horn of Africa is being threatened again by famine and civil unrest - sort of fits into the rest of the world’s problems with rising food and petrol prices. Now our animal lives are being threatened alongside humans. Lewis Lyon, land owner and multi-billionaire contractor, is turning some of his vast land holdings into fields of corn and maize and hiring humans to manage it.

Betty Chimpo and sometimes lover, Dickey Simba, had spent a divine four days in Amsterdam, staying in an apartment loaned by the lion’s former school chum. They had done all of the things one does in that fascinating city. Now they were back in the Masai Mara to find that President Shane Simba was cutting some of his staff at the State House as a sign of the times. Dickey Simba is Shane’s justice and interior minister. Dickey was not in danger of losing his post since Shane needs his cabinet members. I knew I wasn’t in danger of losing mine nor was Bernice Bear who is supposed to be the secretary for the first lady. Since Alexandra Simba, Shane’s gorgeous human spouse, no longer abides with the President, Shane switched Bernice into Cutty Sark’s position. Cutty is an adorable girl – a human who also happens to be Shane’s press secretary. Shane sent Cutty upstairs to be the press secretary and main liaison officer to Dickey Simba’s ministry. Marla Meerkat, though not losing her position as his secretary, did not like the competition presented by the pretty and efficient Cutty. Marla has a tremendous crush on her lion boss.

Betty and Dickey Simba enjoy Amsterdam...

“Do you really want to do this?” I asked my love, Lachlan, as I handed him a gin and tonic one evening after we arrived home from our jobs. The birds were busily flapping about the trees finding a place for their evening roost. There was a slight breeze swaying through the Fever trees in our back yard.

“I’m selling the restaurant to Rhonda Rhino, Maury. I’ll keep my post at the Mental Health Center. My patients need me but I want to be part of growing food for this famine,” he said, patting my hand as I settled next to him on the glider. “Our world is changing, Maurice. We are all going to have to adjust to this fact.”

“It seems we already underwent a huge change when we animals got in charge of Kenya’s government a few years ago,” I sighed.

“This is global, Maurice. The entire planet is going to have to adjust to this one - human, animal, reptile, insect….all of us. I want to buy some land and farm it. Will this be too unsettling foryou? I know how you love this house,” he asked.

“I want to contribute too, Lachlan. I’ve never been much of a country dweller but if this is what you want, I am your partner – it will make me happy too.”

He patted my hand once again. Lachlan has never been one to be too overwhelmed with emotion but I knew he was glad I felt that way. I lay my hand over his and we sat in the gathering darkness looking out at our beloved yard and garden.

Dr. Lachlan Lion, my life partner, and I make a decision ....

Shane Simba sat at his desk, long muscular legs propped there. It was the closing of the business day. He had his whiskey and cigarette and decided to phone his estranged wife, Alexandra.

“Alex,” he began when she reached the phone summoned there by her houseboy. “Shall we make this separation legal? If you aren’t coming back, let’s call it a final quits. I’ll be generous – I think you know that.”

“May I think on this, Shane?” she asked, slightly rattled and lighting a cigarette.

“No, I want a divorce now.”

Shane and Alexandra Simba in the early days of their marriage....

JAGGERS is having to refurbish their scheduling. The rich will always purchase clothes and the needed accessories but it still flies in the face of the poverty that envelops our part of Africa. They are cutting many of their models from the payroll. One of these is Georgy Simba, the mother of Shane Simba’s latest grandcub.

Speaking of Georgy and her air-headed hubby, sport’s star, Sean Simba: the couple baptized their new cub in a rather sedate (compared to the former glory days) ceremony at the First Church of the Ascending Predator. Shane Simba sat with his family and Betty Chimpo as his small mewing grandson was named Cougar Simba before the font. Later, a small reception was given in the garden of grandmom, Caitlin Cougar’s home that she shares with her lover, Chris Simba, and their daughter.

new parents, Sean and Georgy Simba....

“Betty, will you marry me again?” asked Shane Simba dropping a cube of ice in his drink.

He was standing at the bar of his bush home where he and Betty had retreated after the reception for his new grandcub. Betty sat in a state of shock, dropping the newspaper she was reading to the floor.

“Shane, darling, the last time I looked you were already married,” she said, with a tight, anxious snigger.

“I have told my brother, Sam, to file for the final papers of divorce from Alexandra.”

“Now how many times have we already done that, Shane?”

“This one is final, Fifi. I want Alex out of my life for good,” he stated, handing Betty a cigarette he had lit for her – an endearing habit of his.

“Final in what way, Shane – the one where you have Alex on your arm and in your bed for important occasions like the Queen’s visit?”

“Betty, I’ve told you that this time it’s going to be finalized. Don’t you believe me?”

She stood up and went to where he stood, putting her arms around his waist.

“No, darling, I don’t believe you – but that’s not saying I don’t want to.”

Betty Chimpo and Shane Simba leaving the baptismal of his grandson...

As it happened Lachlan bought a large piece of land from the government. It abutted the property where Shane Simba has his extensive bush estate. It contains a modest cottage where Lachlan and I will live. I felt mixed emotions. I had always loved my home on Leoparde Drive but I love Lachlan more. Lachlan wanted to contribute to the problems created by the growing famine by growing crops. We jointly decided I would rent my home and move to the new one.

When I was leaving work of a late afternoon, I was surprised by the President coming to my office door and asking me to join him in the executive dining room for a drink. I was greeted by a group of fellow staff members. There was a bar set up and Dickey Simba, Bernice Bear, Cutty Sark, Marla Meerkat, Shane’s secretaries and a few others had already begun the party when we walked in. Shane grabbed a hoe propped against the wall. I noticed it sported a debonair red ribbon.

“Here’s to success on your first row of corn,” laughed Shane, handing it to me.

The others joined in with giggles and pats on the back. We all went home slightly sloshed.

Cutty Sark and I enjoy a giggle at the staff party.....

That same evening, Dickey Simba drove Cutty Sark to her condo and remained the night. The lion and the pert girl from Kansas made love until the sun rose just beyond the watering hole.

“We’re being forced to cut some of our staff at Baboon-Simba Studios,” complained Bertram Baboon with a toast square slathered with pate beginning its journey toward his mouth.

I had just sat down at a table in Lachlan’s former restaurant which has been purchased by Rhonda Rhino and opened for lunch. I placed my napkin in my lap as Rhonda’s son lumbered over to take my drink order. I ordered a very dry martini and without missing a beat, responded to Bertram.

“These are hard times, Bertram. We all have to change our lifestyles. I am moving to the bush with Lachlan. He wants to grow crops.”

A bit of the toast and pate flew toward me as Bertram, jaw agape, mentally grasped my announcement.

“You are what?” he sputtered, adding to the debris sent my way.

I took a sip of my newly arrived Martini.

“Lachlan is going to grow crops for the gathering famine,” I stated again, enjoying the look of sheer consternation on my friend’s face. “He wants to contribute something. He’s has always had a green thumb.”

“Green thumb?” he yelped. “A green thumb is for growing orchids and geraniums – not plowing bloody fields, Maurice.”

“Let me rephrase that, Bertram – Lachlan has a talent for growing things. He has a botanical flair. That includes all greenery, even corn and maize.”

“Where will you live, Maurice – between corn rows?”

“No, as a matter of fact there’s a rather modest but functional cottage on the property.”

“This is preposterous,” he screeched summoning the waiter for another martini.

My long time pal, Bertram Baboon during the Cannes Film Festival...

I removed a dust ball from the corner of the cottage as Lachlan and I made our way hesitantly into what was to be our new residence. It was gloomy, the bright Kenyan sun having waned hours before. I spotted a dilapidated and rather rustic table in one corner of what I assumed to be a parlor.

“Don’t lose heart, Maury. You know your talent for warming a place up,” encouraged Lachlan as he walked closely behind me.

“Yes, yes, of course. Things will be quite cheery before I’m finished,” I answered rather falteringly. “And it will be made even more warming when your delicious stews are bubbling on the stove.”

I shouldn’t have made reference too hastily to the kitchen. As we went from room to room we finally arrived there. It was, like many East African dwellings, separate from the rest of the house. It was in a small tin roofed shack at least two yards from the back door. Lachlan, hands on hips, made a lion like chuff. He looked at me and I shrugged.

“This is your domain, Lach, does it suit you?” I giggled.

“This, too, will require some work,” he said. “Look at that stove, Maury.”

He walked toward it and opened the iron door to the wood burning oven. It fell off. There was nothing to do but have a fit of giggles. We stood laughing together as the sun fell behind the Cholulu Hills, extinguishing the remaining light. The deep African night was upon us. We drove home and had a drink, one of the last we would enjoy on our porch on Leoparde Drive.

Two events happened within days of the afternoon Lachlan and I explored our new digs. Staci Simba Lyon, recently divorced from Ashley, stopped construction on her new home on Leoparde Drive and asked to rent mine. I gladly acquiesced. I knew and loved Staci from the time she was small and lost her mother. I was delighted that she and her two offspring would be the ones inhabiting the home I loved. In addition, Staci’s dad, President Shane Simba got his final divorce from Alexandra Delamere Simba, the human wife of two of his natural children. That chapter of the turbulent lion president’s life was closed. Another was to begin