The Lion Drops - Original Writing

The Lion Drops - Original Writing

It was early morning on the plains and a wild pheasant flew up the

hill almost brushing the tips of the long, golden grass in its flight.

The African sun shone brightly and boldly in the distance. But this

peace was as real as Kibuka the myth and war god sent to save the

Bagandan people. But the people of Botswana need their very own Kibuka

now, as war is knocking on the door of my beloved country and my home.

I am no African, though I have lived here for 15 years of my 23-year

life. I moved here from England. My father, older brother and I moved

out here to gain the peace we desperately needed. For the lives we

lived in England were chaotic and were filled with death. My mother

was murdered along with my uncle, and everything my family went near

turned into a tragedy. And it was happening again. We were trapped by

our luck again and it seems there is absolutely nowhere we can hide

from it. This is my story, the story of Sean Smith.

The fear of the Zulu spears and their gung-ho fighting had reached the

country as they were now at the border. These fearsome warriors had

marched from Harare to the border of Botswana in the past week. The

people of Botswana were preparing to defend their homeland; they were

building large wooden stake fences. But I knew this wouldn't be enough

to defend them and I think they knew to. But what were they to do.

Their attitude was not to win but to go down fighting. They were

preparing arrows for their bows, spears and shields. The technology of

the west had not yet reached the lands of Africa. My brother and I

were the only people who had used a rifle, and we were the only people

who possessed them. The Botswana people had little experience of

battle. However they were fierce hunters and are all very strong and

athletic men.

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The wind whistled through the trees and the wooden boards creaked as I