In Zimbabwe, We Don't Cry for Lions

In my village in Zimbabwe, surrounded by wildlife conservation areas, no lion has ever been beloved, or granted an affectionate nickname. They are objects of terror.

When I was 9 years old, a solitary lion prowled villages near my home. After it killed a few chickens, some goats and finally a cow, we were warned to walk to school in groups and stop playing outside. My sisters no longer went alone to the river to collect water or wash dishes; my mother waited for my father and older brothers, armed with machetes, axes and spears, to escort her into the bush to collect firewood.

There are always two sides. Our American Mindset just isn't always the right one. I'm not siding by no means on hunting for or against, but like I already said, two sides. Our overly privileged position allows us this thought.