Ferocious wild animals in the Congo are
difficult to get to see. Occasionally, someone keeps a monkey as a pet instead
of for the pot and you might see a snake now and then, but, apart from that,
the jungle keeps its inhabitants very well hidden. Yesterday, though, I came a
step closer to brushing with the wild.
The sky began to darken around 6 pm; the
trees teamed with bright yellow weaver-birds, chattering and squealing and
carrying endless streamers of grass and palm-leaf to build up their nests.
Darkness descended swiftly, leaving ragged banana trees and oil-kernel palms
silhouetted against the clear royal-blue sky, with vivid twinkling
constellations scattered like sequins on a velvet cloth.
People in Basankusu settled down to cook
and eat their evening meal, the glow of charcoal burners and the smell of
various foods filled the air.
Towards 10 o’clock, Papa Gerard went to
wash. He left his little clay-brick house, ducking down a little to step under
the palm-thatched roof and walked across his garden. His two goats had already
found a corner and were fast asleep. He entered his little area. It’s just a
private area screened from view with four flimsy palm-leaf walls and a bucket of
water inside. Papa Gerard was tired after a long day in his vegetable garden in
the forest, about 4 miles from Basankusu. He’d walked there and back, and now
he was ready for bed.
He was just emerging again when he heard a
noise. He saw that the ground had been flattened as if something had been
dragged across the long grass. He called to his wife but didn’t wait; he
followed the trail. He was quite surprised with what was there. A leopard, no
less, had dragged one of his goats from the garden and was standing right in
front of him, its long yellowish teeth deeply embedded into the side of the
goat, and its distinctive orange, white and black pattern clearly visible,
despite the darkness.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!” he cried out, not
really thinking about what he was saying or doing, waving his arms at the
leopard as his wife caught up with him. The leopard stared into his eyes, then,
without a sound, released its jaws from the now-dead goat and scurried into the
undergrowth.
 |
| Leopard |
It happened to our cook’s neighbour, so we
all heard the story the next. Some were excited, others afraid ... but a few
decided the story wasn’t true at all.
As for me, I believe it was an uncommon
intrusion into Basankusu by a rare and secretive animal ... for whatever
reason. Perhaps it was sick, or old. Perhaps it was the leopard that soldiers
had captured, 10 years ago, caged and fed, which had returned to a place it
knew. Who knows? At least I can now say, that the wild of the equatorial
rainforest around me has taken a few steps closer.
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