I was just lazing around the house today (it's a holiday this side of the
border) and this little story came to me.

On a lazy-hot summer afternoon, the mandrill sometimes liked to sit in the
peaceful shade of a baobab, and enjoy the quietude.  Today the rustle of
light wind through the long grass played a soothing counterpoint to the buzz
of the mid-day insects.   As Rafiki sat with his back to the tree, staff
resting over his shoulder, and chin down on his chest, he found his
meditations slowly turning into something more closely resembling a nap.

As the first pleasant wave of sleep started to wash over him, he was
startled back to full alertness by the sound of small feet padding toward
him on the baked earth.

"Hey, uncle Rafiki, are you busy?" piped the pleasant little voice of the
approaching cub.

"Kiara?" said the mandrill, raising his head and blinking at the young lass.
"Does your mother know that you have wandered off by yourself?"

The cub giggled.

"She said I was getting under-paw, and told me to come visit you for
awhile."

"She said that, did she?" asked Rafiki, his eyes narrowing slightly.  He was
going to have to speak with that lioness - he was a shaman, not a
cub-sitter.  Even as the thought struck him, he noted that Kiara - an
endless fuzzy ball of energy like cubs were wont to be - was tearing circles
around the tree.  The shaman sighed, and began to understand Nala's
motivation.

"What did you wish to talk about, young princess?" he asked.

The cub somersaulted to a stop in front of the mandrill, and lay in a very
undignified supine sprawl in the dust.

"I dunno," said Kiara indifferently.  She swatted at a passing fly and gave
a "yerf!" of annoyance when it escaped.  "Do you know any good stories?"

Rafiki nodded slowly.

"I know a story or two..." be began, but the cub cut him off quickly.

"And make it a good one," she said, rolling onto her side and fixing him
with a reproachful look.  "Not one of those icky ones about lionesses losing
their cubs, and crying out in despair to the kings, saying "why me?" and
stuff like that."

The shaman blinked.

"Now who is telling you stories like THAT?" he asked in surprise.

"Gramma Sarah," said Kiara sourly, pawing at the dirt absently.  "She
doesn't tell fun stories like Gramma Sarabi who -- oh!  By the way, what
does "rutting" mean?  I asked mom, but she said I should ask you."

"Ask me that question again in a couple of months when you are older," said
Rafiki primly.  "But you want a story, eh?  Hrm, let your old uncle think
for a moment."

"Make it a happy story," said Kiara gaily, "and a true one.  And not one of
those boring ones that happened a bazillion years ago when the world was
young, and all that stuff."

"Okay," said Rafiki, rubbing his chin and nodding slowly.  "I have a good
story for you then.  I call it "the hunger".  It is about an old shaman."

"Once upon a time, there was an old baboon who woke one morning with a great
hunger burning inside.  He fought against it with his indomitable spirit,
but the great emptiness would not be appeased.  He called out to the great
kings," the shaman clenched a fist and held it aloft for emphasis, "saying
"Why, oh kings, have you visited this yearning upon me?  How might I appease
this emptiness I feel?"  And the kings told him that he must venture forth
and seek out three things: a melon, a gourd, and a root of the earth."

"Oh," said Kiara, who had sat upright, and was wriggling her rump, trying to
get comfortable for a long story.  "So what did he do?"

"He climbed from his tree, and he ventured forth into the world," said
Rafiki in a low voice.  As he spoke, he leaned forward dramatically and gave
a sweeping gesticulation with his arm.  "He dug through the bushes, and the
trees, until he found the three things as he had been instructed.  When he
had gathered the melon, and the gourd, and the root, he returned to his
home, where he ate them - and he was no longer hungry."

"That's it?" demanded Kiara, with a more than a hint of outrage in her
voice.  "That's your story?"

"Well it's true," said Rafiki, rubbing his stomach, "and it has a happy
ending."

"That's STUPID!" announced the cub.  "What kind of a story is that?  Where's
the adventure and romance?"

"Ah, my dear," said the shaman, reaching out and teasing the young girl's
ears, "food is very romantic indeed.  Some day when you are sharing a zebra
with a special lion, you will learn how romantic food can be, and you will
know the answer to your earlier question.  When you are old enough to bring
down a zebra, you will be old enough to understand those other things."

The cub made a sour face.

"Why would I want to share my zebra with some slobbery lion?" she asked.  "I
mean, no offence or anything, but dad scratches himself and snores.  And
grandpa isn't much better, appearing in the clouds all the time and saying,
"Hey kid, pull my tail!" and then firing a bold of lightning when I do.  It
was funny the first couple of times, but I mean..." she rolled her amber
eyes.

"He is STILL appearing in the clouds?" demanded the shaman aghast.  "I will
have to speak with Mufasa about this.  I don't think he has quite mastered
the knack of being "dead" yet."  He shrugged, and continued with a knowing
wink.  "Don't worry if males don't appeal to you, young Kiara.  Someday it
will all seem different for you,"

"Ew - not me!" said Kiara.  She stood and shook the dust out of her fur,
"Well if you aren't going to tell any good stories then I'm going to go play
with Timon.  See ya!"

As the youngster scampered off, Rafiki felt a wave of cold wash over him,
and a shadow seemed to brush across the cub.  She had the touch of Scar upon
her.  The shaman sighed, and ran a hand across his brow, suddenly feeling
very old.  Even after death, the machinations of her late, great uncle
continued their course.

"When will we be free of this?" he sighed, shaking his head sadly.

Suddenly the mandrill did not feel like sleeping.

Ever.

* Snowcat