Maurice & Friends

Those of us who had observed from a vantage point of closeness, felt that President Shane Simba had already had hit his stride. We were dead wrong. These last few weeks he has hit the pavement running. There is a new look in his eye, a firmness in his step, an added authority in his voice which bespeaks of greater vision. Only my love, Dr. Lachlan Lion, dares to guess the source of this new and even greater stature.

“You have the stuff of greatness, Shane,” his lover, Jane the lioness reporter, had whispered to him before a fire in a cottage they inhabited while making a speedy trip to Ethiopia to confer further with that government. “You should come with me to Bosnia where I will interview the head of the UN and American forces that still occupy that country. You are becoming known as a marvelous mediator since your success in Somalia. You need to hit while the iron is hot and become what you are destined to be: a true world leader. The American President is a total boob. This leaves the field open for you to take over in his designated role.”

He looked at her for a long while, his paw stoking her leg. He knew that Jane had been a reporter for years and had gone across the globe retrieving and reporting the news. While he had been cloistered in the world of school and law in London, she was roaming the earth as a journalist.

“You really think I am ripe for that, Janie?”

“Oh, yes, Shane, you are so right for this role. Every war involves every human and animal. Do you realize that not only have Iraqis and Americans died in Iraq but untoward numbers of guiltless animals have gone to their deaths as well? War is savagery that has to be ended before the humans destroy this world we live in. You are the one that can help counteract what the American Fool has done.”

“I’ll come with you to Bosnia, Janie.”

Before the presidential trip to Bosnia, the pregnant Jane visited her pride to speak with her mother. The two lionesses sat side by side under an acacia tree.

“Mom did any of the females in our pride have trouble with pregnancy?”

“No, Janie, me and my sisters just went in the long grass and had ‘em. There’s nothing to it. Why you asking?”

“I want to have children, Mom. I won’t be married but I still want them.”

“You pregnant now?”

“Yes.”

“By that lion president?”

“Yes, and I want to have them at home.”

“Your aunts and me will come over when you’re due. Don’t worry, Janie, the females in our pride drop cubs as easy as flies. We don’t get all heavy neither.”

Shane sat in his easy chair before a blazing fire in the family’s cozy den in the mansion. He was deep in thought, holding a drink and smoking a cigarette. The children were gathered around watching television, even little Solly who was beginning to toddle about. Betty joined them, sitting next to her husband and patting his leg. He absently mindedly patted hers.

“How’s Rhonda’s book going, Fifi?” he asked.

“Wonderfully well, darling, I am writing almost a chapter every three days,” she enthused.

“I’m going to Bosnia – Sarajevo next week to speak with the leaders.”

“What have we got to do with Bosnia, darling?”

“Nothing and everything, we’re in the world as they are,” he responded, echoing some of Jane’s thoughts.

“You’re speaking in riddles, Shane.”

“No, I’m not. We live in this world and as such what goes on in other countries involves us as well.”

“Sounds like a bunch of New Age twaddle to me, darling.”

“Sorry you feel that way, Betty.”

“Shall I get Janice to design me a frock or two or will there be many parties?”

“I’m going alone on this one, Betty. That country is still iffy. It won’t be a State visit. Stay here and mess with your book.”

“Mess with my book?”

Her dark eyes became moist at the thought that Shane was making light of her latest literary effort. He had been so remote recently but at least was calling her Fifi again and making love most nights although she had to admit, the passion was lacking for the most part. It was as if he was only going though the motions.

“Yes, Fifi, I know you want to finish it and get it on the market so the proceeds will help the anti-poaching fund. Also, Solly needs you to stay close at this point.”

Staci Simba was going to high school on Monday and the Nairobi School of Nursing’s Mara branch the rest of the week. She attended Dr. Juma Mnyama’s classes focused on HIV and AIDS nursing two evenings a week. Most weekends were taken up on short trips to villages close by where she assisted the lion doctor in his rounds. She had become indispensable to Juma.

“Betty can come with us now that my little brother is born and on his feet,” Staci told him one afternoon on an herbal tea break. Juma looked up from stirring his tea, his gold eyes with the dark flecks catching the sun’s light.

“Staci, you’re the one that’s invaluable to me. I am afraid I want to rush your youth and schooling so I can get you on my team full time. I am very selfish about that thought.”

He softened what was said with a smile.

“Betty was good too, wasn’t she?”

“Not as you are, Staci. You are unbeatable even without a full nursing degree. I have never worked with an aid that was as skilled as you and got the knack so quickly. Of course if Mrs. Simba wants to come with us she is always welcome.”

So much for trying to ease Betty’s sadness that Staci felt as keenly as if it were her own. She knew it had something to do with her father as it always had but she still couldn’t understand. When he wasn’t on an official trip he was there every evening from the moment he left the State House and walked home, flanked by the Masai.

Things were improving in the nettlesome personality of Imani Janice Lyon. That’s not to say that the fiery cub was all sweetness and light. One could only say that with the advent of Dr. Cate Ocelot in her life as a counselor, conditions had improved in the house on 920 Leoparde Drive. Of course, giving all of her clothes to her adopted sister, Kitty, hadn’t been the coolest in the eyes of her father, Ashley, but one couldn’t be too picky when it came to Imani. Leah bit the bullet and took Imani to her grandmother’s fashion emporium JAGGERS. Janice thoughtfully designed a new wardrobe built on Imani’s descriptions of things she felt were ‘hot’. Janice didn’t bill her daughter Leah since Imani’s birthday was due in the coming week. Her grandfather, Ralph Lyon, true to his word, delivered an SUV to Ashley and Leah’s for the cub’s birthday. It was last year’s model but still had not been owned before now. Owing to her new composure gained from Caty, she didn’t stamp her feet and fret that it wasn’t a sport car such as her cousin, Staci Simba, had received on her birthday. The family spent the weekend of Imani’s special day in Mombasa. She had requested as guests Staci Simba her cousin and Lee Simba, her teenage aunt (Roy Lee’s cub by Chloe Cougar). Staci, being a much sweeter animal, gave up her plans for the weekend and joined the family. Lee, being bored by the much younger Imani, failed to do so. Staci worked with Imani, teaching her to windsurf. Shane and Betty came that weekend too. Shane windsurfed with Leah, Ashley, Staci and Imani. This was the first weekend that his son Sean had exhibited any interest in the water sport, so Shane worked with him in honing his skills. Betty had brought her lap top and sat with Solly, writing on her book.

Luke Leoparde, having bought a more luxurious beach home, decided to invite old girlfriends, Caitlin Cougar and Jane, the lioness reporter. He had his two sons by Simone Serval with him. Sloane Simba had Georgy, their daughter, so Caitlin bought her son, Carly, fathered by Steven Simba. Jane held her secret children under her heart, saying nothing to her good friends. Jane and Caitlin got along famously since Jane still accepted columns that Caitlin would write for the Masai Mara Daily in addition to her sculpting career. The threesome spent a wonderful weekend, drinking beer, taking turns with the cooking and windsurfing. In the evenings the children would be playing video games, allowing young Carly to hang out with them. The adults would sit before the cozy fire set in the giant stone fireplace. It was a heartfelt weekend, bonding three good friends even more tightly together.

An exciting event brought Lewis Lyon even greater wealth and embellished our shopping sprees no end. Lewis had contracted to build a Harrods department store in the Masai Mara. This was posh to beat all posh, we residents agreed. The elaborate structure, indicative of the one in London stood alone, to the side of the Lewis Lyon Mall. With it came several key employees. One was a lovely female red fox, who had fashioned herself Farrah Foxett. If one tends to gag on that bit of ‘just too precious’ it would end at the point that one got a gander at the very pretty Farrah with her deeply ingrained British accent. She was put in a spot which suited the males just fine. She was the manager of the male’s designer clothing section replete with the best designer wear. A beaten path was trod to her department where the likes of Steven, Sloane and Dick Simba bought their duds. I found her absolutely charming as she sold me two very stylish Bill Blass suits.

Farrah loved a Pimm’s Cup, a particularly English drink consisting of gin among other things. She would frequent the Watering Hole Pub, instructing the very accommodating Wally Warthog on how to concoct such. She was standing at the bar sipping her drink of choice from a straw when Simon Simba joined her.

“Is that a cucumber garnishing that drink?” he asked with a wrinkled nose.

“Yes, indeed it is. That is the favored garnish for a Pimm’s Cup,” she answered primly having to stretch her neck to look up at the intimidating height of the male lion.

“I went to school in England and never saw a cucumber floating in one.”

“Oh deah, then you must have missed most of our smaller cultural artifacts.”

“I saw a fox hunt one time, in fact I shagged the survivor - she was weary but quite horny as I remember,” he laughed.

‘How totally uncouth of you,” she snarled in a dainty very British way.

“You’re a cute little uh….what do you call the female of your sort?” asked Simon, leaning his head on his arm on the counter so his yellow eyes bore through her.

“I believe you know full well what canine females are called and I don’t intend to debate that word with you whoever you may be,” she answered, all bristling red fur.

“My name is Simon Simba and you do have quite the red tressed temper, don’t you, Miss….?”

“If you are trying to come on to me, Mr. Simba, I do NOT do animals of your size.”

“I boned several fox while I was there. They’re probably still kicking - at least they were when I dismounted.”

She quickly took some money from her purse and paid the bartender. Over her shoulder she called back, “You are most disgusting, Mr. Simba.”

Simon chuckled to himself. He would catch her later. He knew where she worked and he needed some new jackets and slacks, not to

mention silk ties.

Farrah meets Simon Simba at the pub.....

The plane left early in the morning, ascending into the clouds, banking and heading east toward that part of Europe. On board were President Shane Simba, his guards and several media and press figures. Jane, as was her way, sat quietly to the back studying her junket notes. Shane, after being served drinks, chatted with one of the television reporters. Their destination was Bosnia and Sarajevo where Shane had lined up the different heads of that country to counsel with.

The Astra in Sarajevo

Shane with Bosnian leaders and his Jane....

Upon arrival, Shane booked into the Hotel Astra in Sarajevo. Shane received two visitors that first night. One was a General of UN forces that came with Jane to his suite. They discussed the meetings Shane had set up with the Bosnian government. After going down in the elevator with the General, Jane returned by the back elevator to Shane's room where the Masai guards admitted her. She fell into his arms. She had failed to tell him of her pregnancy nor would she.

"Have you ever made love to a female as a lion to a lioness?" she asked.

He gave a great guffaw. "Janie, homicide and politics are mutually exclusive. I've never made love to a lioness except for you. There were very delicate female forms from other species in my sexual catalog."

"You roared for me once," she said, unbuttoning her blouse. "Now make love to me as a male lion does with a lioness."

He stood up. She removed the rest of her clothing.

"Now," she moaned.

That night, they made love as two lions have always done. Filled with the gestures of a male lion toward his lioness. There were growls and roars, incredible passion, a ritual which often mimics commitment. It lasted for hours and as they finally rested, their bodies were glistening with perspiration. They lay side by side in his bed.

"Are you glad of this or just simply maimed beyond all reason?" he chuckled as he rolled over and kissed her forehead.

"Aside from a slightly sore neck, I am lyrical with happiness," she told him as she stroked his chest.

"God, I feel so peaceful," he murmured into her ear.

They slept that night in each other's arms.