dream I sit atop an eight-foot-tall anthill and watch over my father's
flock. As I perch there, I make toy cows out of clay. Beside me lie my
knife, my stick, and my spear. I am chewing a sorghum stem and looking
at my clay cows, when all of a sudden I hear something running. The
curtain of grass opens, and I see a goat of mine, followed by a lion.
The lion chases the goat around and around my anthill, and I think that
perhaps the goat has run to me to get my help. I get up, grab my spear,
and point it at the lion. The lion bows down, afraid of me, and freezes.
I seize the lion by the tail and swing it around in a circle. I am so,
so powerful. Holding the lion's tail like the handle of a whip. I beat
the animal's body against the anthill. Still the lion refuses to move. I
switch to my stick and beat the lion's head, then return to swinging it
by the tail and whacking it against the hill.
When I look up from beating
the lion, I see a group of boys having fun. I drag the lion to where the
boys are playing. The boys ask me, 'Why are you killing that lion?' I
say, 'If I kill this lion, he will not be able to attack my goats
We talk like that for a while.
In my dream I stand like a Dinka boy on watch, with my right leg
straight, my left leg bent at the knee, and the handle of my spear
tucked under my shoulder, its point stuck in the ground like a third
'What do you want to do with that lion?' one of the boys asks.
'I want to throw it away,' I reply. 'I will take it far away and get rid of it so it cannot harm anything in my village again.'
I take the lion to a place
where I can cast it into a swift flowing river, where the current will
make it disappear. Just as I start to toss it in, though, it comes alive
and stands up. In the blink of an eye, it grows strong again. The lion
chases me, intent on catching and eating me. I run very fast, until I
trip over a bunch of grass and fall. The lion leaps toward me? and I
(Dau, John Bul. God Grew Tired Of Us. pg 235)