The Good Cemetery Guide logo Sunday Times fiction prize shortlist 2006


Home

TO ZOO OR NOT TO ZOO - A CONUNDRUM

SHOULD WE KEEP ANIMALS IN ZOOS? A long time ago a friend of mine shocked me to consciousness by challenging my notion of a pleasant Sunday afternoon - taking my toddler son to Johannesburg zoo to see the Polar Bear in its new 5 star quarters. She was the first anti-zoo activist I ever met, and the last. But she was also old-school Greek (a plastic eye to ward off evil as a baby shower gift) and the kind of vegetarian that could reel off a list of products you shouldn't be using because they were made with harpooned whale blubber. Still, in many ways her objections struck me as legitimate and reasonable. Ever since then I've been conflicted about the answer to the tautological existential crisis of earth's sentient beings. Better to die out as a species unfettered and untamed, or to persist with existence and lose one's capacity for survival and self-sufficiency?

A few weeks ago Panjo, a 17-month old Bengal tiger who went missing in Mpumalanga in South Africa was saved from a terrible fate. In one one of those twists of circumstances that feed humanity's voracious appetite for the unexpected, Panjo the pet tiger - whose owner Goosey Fernandes wept on national radio - was tracked down by a hunting dog trained to hunt predators - but who had never hunted a tiger - and came out of the bushes purring with joy at the sight of his owner.

A week before Panjo's dramatic rescue William the baboon, a 14-year-old alpha male of the Groot Olifantbos troop, was killed by lethal injection. Would it have made a difference if Jenni Trethowan, self-appointed defender of the baboon nation, had gone on national radio and wept?

Methinks not. We have grown accustomed to her accusing voice.

In the Panjo saga we sensed something novel - the possibility for redemption in the midst of the wholesale slaughter that has always accompanied the expansion of our kind. William was expendable because we couldn't safely lock him away. Panjo made us feel that we humans aren't really that bad; co-existence between species is tricky but achievable.

I grew up in a village called Felixton in KZN where practically every breadwinner was involved in paper or sugar production. When we were children there were so many frogs croaking and jumping, and mosquitos whining and dining, and translucent geckos clinging to surfaces, that outside doors and windows were all fitted with netting that required constant maintenance. At night doorsteps would fill with plump croaking frogs drawn to the lights, and we'd stumble over heaps of living hopping frogs if we had to cross the threshold into the hot humid Zululand darkness. By the time I went to university wading through frogs was a distant memory. Today an occasional croak from the darkness is all that remains. Mosquitos are more resilientit seems.

You could say one shouldn't over-dramatise an infinitesimal event in an infinite universe, that we are all William the baboon in one way or another. Destined to die from the minute we are born. You could say that how we die is unimportant. I'm hoping William had fun while he was here; made hay while the sun shone so to speak. But to be killed by one's fellow earthlings as an act of punishment and retribution seems a small-minded act, less than civilised. What was William the conqueror's last thought as they held him down?

Did he feel betrayed by his hairless brothers and sisters?

That's the thing about the intentional killing of a defenceless animal by a single human being or a bunch of human beings. It smacks of a lack of civilisation, regardless of the excellent reasons given.

I wonder what my friend who was against zoos would have had to say about Panjo the tiger, pampered predator who purrs and cat-attacks with the gentle insouciance of a household cat, his claws shielded, his savage inclinations tempered. She'd probably challenge me in her outspoken way on the name of this page. But I've decided to stick with it. 'Zoo Zone' is not only pithy, alliterative, metaphorical and provocative, but it also suggests the possibility of ethical custodianship and secure habitat.With climate change an encroaching reality, soaring population figures increasing the competition for ever-scarcer resources, social, economic and political turmoil on an unprecedented scale, and carnage and pillage our staple news, something isn't working on our planet.

Have we forgotten how to exercise free will and stand up for each other? Aren't most of us tame shadows of our wilder selves? Aren't we all living in a zoo, albeit one of our own making? But there's a certain advantage to that too; we humans are in the unique situation of being both zoo keeper and zoo animal; how we handle that delicate balancing act can change our future. We can practice responsible curatorship and make our planet a better place.

death and dying

Panjo

Have you spotted Panjo? Call the police if you see him. (source: news24.com)

Lest we should forget...

2010/07/29 09:49:13 AM H: Spare a thought for those Tigers killed in Asia for their prized coats......they are captured but NOT shot as the poachers do not want to damage the skin with a bullet hole.....rather they stick a HOT poker into the Tiger's rear end, vagina in the case of females, to slowly but surely kill the animal to keep the skin intact.....it is slow agonising death....

www.news24.com, gallery comments

death and dying


Rhino and calf

Boy's tragic rhino story moves classmates

Sello Kolensie's speech to his Grade 3 class, depicting a mock conversation between a rhino and her calf at the Krugersdorp Game Reserve just before poachers kill her, almost reduced them to tears.

...Last week, a gang of poachers struck the game reserve - their target the last remaining adult rhino at the reserve. They sawed off her horn before she bled to death.

In the speech, the rhino tells her calf how happy she is that they live in the Krugersdorp Game Reserve. The calf replies that he is so happy he is with his mother and that he drinks her milk. Suddenly, the mother sees armed men arrive and urges her calf to run away to the bush and hide away. Her calf replies that he is scared and worried the armed men are going to kill them. Then, she tells him that she has been shot and that he must run to save his life. He sees the poachers chopping off his mother's horn and exclaims at how she is bleeding. She replies: "I'm going to bleed to death. I love you."

Sheree Bega, Mpumalanga, South Africa, July 24th, 2010

~ ~ ~

Square-Lipped >> White Rhinoceros Ceratotherium simum >>
Near Threatened

Hook-Lipped >> Black Rhinoceros
Diceros bicornis >>
Critically Endangered

IUCN Red List of Threatened Species
source: www.safarinow.com

death and dying


Cold Comfort

Happy Feet

"Cold Comfort for Penguin Lovers



...The Emperor Penguin’s predicament resonates with something very deep in the human psyche: the sense that we ourselves are profoundly lost, trapped in a hostile environment, unable to find real nourishment, unable to quench our thirst. The world’s religions attest to this, but it is not a “religious” experience. It is a fact of human nature, that we are somehow out of place, out of time, destined to fill our stomachs and our minds with things that fail to satisfy.
It wasn’t, after all, just Happy Feet we hoped to rescue; save the penguin, save ourselves. "

(source: MercatorNet.com, Zac Alstin, September 16, 2011)

death and dying

www.carp-uk.net
R.I.P Two Tone

R.I.P Two Tone

Anglers are left reeling after legendary carp dies aged 45

He was the fish everyone wanted to catch, a legendary carp notorious for his huge size and wily nature... at 68lb was Britain's biggest freshwater fish...the massive carp was even said to have broken up marriages due to the amount of time fishermen spent in pursuit of him... nicknamed Two Tone, was found floating dead on the surface of the Kent lake where he lived... believed to have died of natural causes... only gave himself up once or twice a year.
Tribute: "A truly great fish and one that made a few dreams come true for those lucky enough to have him grace their net."

(source: International Express August 24, 2010)

death and dying

Panjo playing

After being reunited with his family, Panjo enjoys a playful moment with one of his owners, Justin Fernandes.(Cornél van Heerden, source: Foto24)


...Come into my parlour, says the spider to the fly. The aspidistra stares at Anthony Loxton morosely, refusing to die, regardless of the amount of neglect he lavishes upon it.

THE GOOD CEMETERY GUIDE


waterweb

Many expressions that are in common usage, and sometimes the structure of language itself, reveal the fact that people don't know who they are. You say: "He lost his life" or "my life," as if life were something that you can possess or lose. The truth is: you don't have a life, you are life. The One Life, the one consciousness that pervades the entire universe and takes temporary form to experience itself as a stone or blade of grass, as an animal, a person, a star or a galaxy.

Eckhart Tolle, www.ascensiongateway.com/quote


William the Conqueror

In memory of William the Conqueror
(source: Times Live, picture: Tim Newman)



THE PET WHO MADE ME INTO A BETTER MAN

"My wife called me at the office one afternoon to say we had to put down our dog of 14 years. Cancer in the liver and spleen. Did I want to come to the pet hospital to be present for the injection?

At first I said no. I was too busy. She was just an animal, after all. Then my conscience spoke up. The voice said: 'I know I'd rather skip this , but I really ought to say goodbye in person. I should stroke her pumpkin-coloured fur (now mixed with white) one last time...' So I went...

I didn't want the dog in the first place. I thought she'd be too much work. That's a typical response for me. Practical. Utilitarian. What's the cost-benefit ratio?...

Instead the responsibility was often satisfying, even enriching. I think that's because a dog is a living being and has a personality. Limitless affection repays one's labours.

In the last hours or so I spent with Brooks I came to recognise what I'd been avoiding:powerful feelings of sorrow and loss. I got choked up as I arrived and saw her limping down the street with my wife on her final outdoor walk. I wept softly as I petted her and tried to soothe her as she wheezed before her end. tears were on my cheeks for a dozen people to see in the waiting room as I paid the bill.

This was unfamiliar. I don't cry much and virtually never in public. I'm ashamed to show such emotions. In our culture masculinity often translates as stoicism. Impassiveness. Surpressing feelings. And that's what I've been doing when it comes to death. I've avoided funerals because I'd rather feel nothing than feel bad...

The latter awareness was a new one, and I was satisfied about it. I even took some pride in it. It was evidence I had grown emotionally. Instead of staying safely in my head as usual, I'd ventured into the heart.

So, though 'only' an animal, she helped me be more fully human.
Thanks, Brooks."

Cape Argus, Tuesday July 13, 2010, Robert McCartney

The black knight

R.I.P, Tyrass, 19th June 2007

POEMS

O CALLOUS DAY!

by Consuelo Roland

Click above!

---------------------------------

...Sweet always knew what to do. Figlove the big man running inside on his small feet, away from horror, telling Sweet that he has run over a pigeon in the road, shaking with nerves. 'Damn bird is still fluttering, came straight for the tyres, didn't know that a fucking pigeon had that much blood!' he cries out, shuddering.
    When Sweet comes out ten minutes later whistling softly under his breath, Anthony is digging in the soft soil of the newly turned flowerbed with his bare hands.
    'Need this?' Sweet holds out a cardboard shoebox and a small spade. After a while: 'Is it big enough do you think, the hole I mean?' Anthony sees that he has dug a trench and that he can now stop. Sweet goes down on his haunches with his back against the syringa tree and waits until the pigeon has been carefully scraped off the road and the cardboard box interred, pulling his sunhat low over his eyes as if he were resting.

THE GOOD CEMETERY GUIDE

~ ~ ~

FREE DOWNLOAD

The Good Cemetery Guide by Consuelo Roland

- Download PDF


THE GOOD CEMETERY GUIDE
Complete Chapter 1 (58KB)
requires Adobe Reader


POEMS

BADGER

by John Clare

www.poemhunter.com

Contact details:
email: info@goodcemeteryguide.com

death and dying

death and dying

The Book   -   Kalk Bay   -   Mexico   -   The Author   -   Reviews   -   Gallery   -   Noticeboard   -   Links   -   Bookshops   -   Book Clubs   -   Features   -   Books  -   Poems   -   Movies   -   Art   -   Digital Life   -   Teen Talk   -   Rites & Rituals   -   Guest Column   -   In Memoriam   -   World Obituaries   -   Zoo Zone   -   Orders   -   Writers   -   Competitions   -   Residencies   -   Retreats   -   Markets   -   Guidelines
†† All Content Copyright © 2008 by Consuelo Roland ††