From The Frontlines

I can’t tell you how many people have asked me that question... Everytime i hear it, i shed a silent tear... “60”... just a number, yet for me, a symbol of strength, courage, failure, perseverance, suffering, love, magnificence, torture, and so much more... I remember waking up in the morning, excited to be packing my supplies for rukinga, where I volunteer for wildlife works regularly on their anti-poaching patrols and desnaring activites. I got my menu sorted, checked my sunblock and toothbrush (the things I ALWAYS seem to leave behind! ), and started loading everything in the car. Throught the entire busride, I couldn’t stop thinking of what I would encounter this time, every time is different, some days are quiet, some days, are unbelievably eventful... I slept the rest of the way. I arrived in rukinga later that night, and was greeted by one of the staff, I couldn’t sleep without getting an update first; I had been told about the rise in poaching in that area, especially elephant

This was my reply to Lisa Tieni: lisa... i'm not sure my words will be helpful, but i will write from the heart, as i always do... do i still cry?... lisa, everyday... without fail... i have seen things that would crumble a man in a second, i have smelt the death of wildlife, i have touched it, i have heard its sound, the sound of working maggots inside the body of a poached, faceless elephant... there is no getting over it... i have held dying animals, and i remember them all the time, i remember the tears they shed on my clothes, i remember the pain in their cries, in their eyes... there is no getting over it... i remember my ol'boy... George. my lion spirit, and best friend, i remember the day he was taken from me, they din't even call me, i didn't know... i never got to say goodbye... i was his only friend, his only company all those years in his rusty cage... i never got to tell him, it would all be ok, and he would be in a better place... i never got to hold my ol