Hunting – – Day 3

Day 3 – Sunday July 12, 2009

Up at first light, we set to work finding good firewood for the fire as we planned on drying out some of the meat. Charcoal wouldn’t work because it had a tendency of burning too hot and as such it tended to char the meat, and that is just not desirable. Cutting meat is a lot of work. Seriously, it just kept on and on. Feeling a tad left out and uninitiated as a hunter, I decided to do something about it and made myself a side of non-rocky non-mountain oysters. I did eat it all but I will be perfectly fine not having to repeat the performance.

One of the major highlights of this last day of hunting was that my father tried selling me off in marriage to Malambo (the guide) in the hopes that the marriage would provide him with free hunting privileges for at least 5 years. Malambo would have none of it. Citing my proficiency with a gun the day before, he just did not see a happy life in the future with me as his wife. Apparently I was too much of a woman for him…a bush-woman that is. My father pleaded but to no avail, Malambo was not having me. He said the outcome of such a union would be 1 of three options: (1) he would be moved to drink; (2) he would be moved to kill himself because the drink would not be sufficient to counter a life with me; (3) I would kill him as the result of a disagreement. And so, just like that I was dumped.

By about 1.00pm we were done and loaded and we got in the car and headed back home. All the way back we received appreciative glances from people we passed. It was only right that they acknowledged and adequately respected the conquests of our hunting expedition, and we put the heads on display to ensure that. We looked like a pack of vagabonds, most especially me, who was wearing a shirt-dress over tights with feathers in my hair. I looked like I had just stepped of the set of Taking Woodstock or some other 60’s themed peace, love and happiness hippie flick. I didn’t feel like a hippie till I caught some of the strange looks that people sent my way.

By all means an atypical weekend for me but it was hands-down time well-spent. I would leap at the opportunity to go hunting again, but would draw the line at hunting honeymoon as had been proposed by some in our party.
 
PS. My hunting shoes, the ones that protected me from all of the nastiness of the great outdoors were left in the bush. My darling father, bless his soul, washed them, cleaned off all the muck and then with my express permission gifted them to the caretaker of the campsite.

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