Horrific Lion Attack

When I was a young man, I decided to visit my nomadic relatives who lived deep in the Somali desert. I had never traveled so far from my village and didn’t carry the same knowledge of the area as my nomadic family. As I left the bustling crowd of my village to embark on my solitary journey, the comforts of home dwindled in the distance. I traveled on foot across the red earth, looking out for the specific landmarks that would guide me to my family's lands. The landscape unfolded before me like an ancient tapestry woven from threads of rugged terrain and sparse settlements. The air was alive with the whispers of the wilderness, a primal language that stirred something deep within me. It was the rainy season when the earth was rife with plants and wild animals. As I headed west, I encountered fewer and fewer people and the untamed land became unfamiliar. 

On my second day of travel, a substantial figure came around a bush and stood directly in my path. For a moment, I was stunned, trying to make sense of what stood before me. I knew I had never laid eyes on a being like this before. The creature's form was a peculiar amalgamation of domestic and wild animals. At first glance, it looked as big as a cow. Then I decided it must be more like a strong calf, yet it had the features and aura of a great, overgrown cat. A hairy mustache ringed its face and its body was a reddish color, though whether it was truly red or just reflecting the red of the desert sand in the late afternoon sun I could not tell. Still confused, I looked more intently and I asked myself, What could this red thing be? An urgency of danger hung in the air. I knew I couldn’t safely stand there much longer. Somalis say, "The world is to be seen and heard.” Stories of lions had only graced my ears until that day, but deep within my consciousness, intuition whispered the undeniable truth - this must be the lion people talk about. 

Shock and amazement washed over me as I gazed upon the majestic beast. For a moment I hesitated, rooted to the spot by a mixture of fear and fascination. Unfazed by my presence, the lion sat before me and yawned, its huge tongue lazily swaying in the breeze. All the hairs on my body stood on end, covering me with hard goosebumps and my entire being quivered in fear. I was convinced this encounter might mark my final day on this Earth. In Somalia, if you know you are going to die they say “you may as well leave your final words behind.” I considered what my final words should be. But just as abruptly I changed my mind. I did not want to give up. I began gathering stones to defend myself, just as the creature took a leap in my direction. I took a cautious step backward and picked up more stones in my trembling hands.

A showdown unfolded, with me facing off against the formidable lion. The majestic creature leaped toward me again, just as I mustered the courage to hurl a stone at him. My stone surprised him enough that he fell off to one side and I was able to slide underneath him. I quickly got to my feet and faced him again. The lion realized that I was not going to yield to his dominance and jumped again, landing to my side. I jumped backward, yelling, “Come and take another stone!” as I hurled my next rock.

I would later find out that this lion was notorious in the area, having killed livestock and humans alike. No one had faced him and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps my innocence and ignorance of the lion saved me that day. If I had known of this lion’s ruthlessness, my terror might have been greater than my courage. I can only think that not knowing of the beast’s reputation allowed me to believe I had a chance of defending myself.

The lion walked away from me, which gave me a second of peace, but then he abruptly sat down and began digging vigorously in the sand, creating a billowing cloud of earth that felt like it might drown me. A shroud of apprehension loomed over me as I retreated and changed direction. I feared the lion might use the cloak of dust to ambush me. Once again, I seized a stone and sent it hurtling through the veil of sand, this time striking the lion with force. The creature circled around and bounded off. I hoped my defiance had sent a message.

I continued on my way, but the lion paralleled my path. So, he was not giving up. I kept walking and saw him hide in a tree up ahead of me, preparing to launch a deadly ambush. I recalled that lions often attack head-on rather than from behind. As if he heard my thoughts, the lion suddenly leaped towards me. Swiftly, I jumped to the side, dove into a bush and withdrew my hunting knife, poised to protect myself. The beast sailed over me, a creature both beautiful and deadly. In that fleeting moment, I lunged toward him and thrust my knife into the lion's belly as he passed by. As soon as my tooray entered his flesh, he turned, growling in pain, and took a good bite out of my knee.

As the lion took its last breath  I lay next to him, breathing heavily, my knee gravely injured. I gazed at the lifeless beast and noticed that he was missing several of the fingers on his left paw. I guess that is why he bit me instead of clawing me, I thought dazedly. Sense returned and I knew I could not be laying out in the open, bleeding. Other wild animals would smell the blood and come for me. I got to my feet and, limping with determination, I continued on my way. I persevered until I came across a nomadic family. They tended to my wounds and relayed word of my situation to my family back in the village. 

When I described the lion and mentioned his missing fingers, they were surprised. Several men followed my tracks back to the scene of the ambush. When they returned, they verified that I had indeed killed Farey, the most feared lion in the region. The local nomadic tribes had named him for his missing fingers, and had been suffering under his reign of terror for quite some time.

My family hastened to my aid and through their unwavering support I ultimately returned to the sanctuary of my home. I healed, but was forever changed by my perilous encounter with the fearsome Farey, the lion with missing fingers.

Side note:  Killing a lion is a big deal in our culture, and a man who wants to gain a reputation often goes after these types of lions to prove his worth to a lady or tribe. So it was ironic that this notorious lion died by the hand of a man who had never seen a lion, and was simply traveling to a destination.