Translation by Dafna Ruppin

I hate the savanna. That’s somewhat of a strange statement, since the savanna provides me with a very good living, and anyone I know turns green with envy when I tell them that I’m a wildlife cameraman, but for me the savanna has become the place that I’m stuck in. I cannot move ahead, and I cannot get out of it. I just lie down in ambush with my cameras and their huge lenses and get bitten by mosquitos.

Last week I got a contract for documenting the lives of two lion cubs which were born here. They don’t really have names, but the director of the film, who never actually bothers to travel all the way to Africa, calls them Roarago and Roaragi.

Filming them was a rather standard operation, they received traditional upbringing from their mother and two fathers and enjoyed a rich life of boyhood and adolescence gifted to them by the natural habitat surrounding them. Everyone lived comfortably with one another, although it was somewhat less “comfortable” for the antelopes, and the siblings used to play mischievously in between meals and fight each other during the meals, providing me with an abundance of filmed footage.

At all gatherings for the purpose of eating, members of the lion family would rest on their stomachs, lying around the gazelle, doe, or buffalo, and sometimes even around a dead hippopotamus or giraffe laid down in the centre. I hated these assemblies, even though they generally generated a good income for me. Apart from the terrible smell, the eating process was wild, and I was forced to crouch down next to hungry and impatient lions. Lions which could easily give me or each other a nasty scratch.

It may be true that lions don’t go after humans so quickly, since they have realised long ago that we respond a bit too violently if they try to eat us. Yet, during these meal gatherings, there was always a risk of getting hurt, especially by the patriarch lion, who was entitled by custom to snatch for himself the best and most attractive pieces of meat from the body of the hunted animal, or of poor cameramen lying around in the vicinity.

Roarago and Roaragi, the two young lions, enjoyed an amicable relationship. They liked playing together, sleeping one next to the other, and also during mealtimes they would arrive and often crouch down one brother next to another. Since images of fraternity and love may be kitsch, but always made good money, I had entire folders full of shots in which they could be seen affectionately rubbing each other’s necks and faces.

Thus, I continued accompanying the lion family more and more, the film about the brothers was slowly progressing, and I was incessantly getting bitten by all the insects in the savanna. Since I committed to this film, and I would have received a hefty fine had I abandoned it in the middle, I had no choice but to see how the two developed, survived their infancy, their surprise-laden childhood, and how they crossed the line into experiencing youth, a time when personal frustrations sometimes grow. For young lions, such experiences shape their character to various degrees of hardiness.

My frustration meanwhile was also growing, and one might ask why? Well, when I signed the contract to film the two lions, I expected they wouldn’t survive more than a year or two, and therefore I didn’t think I would be stuck with the obligations in the muddy swamps of the savanna for such a long time.

Worse than that, now that the pair of brothers were becoming adolescents, they were about to set off on their own. And while they supposedly learned all the things a young lion needed to know in order to survive, everything went wrong when it came to the moment of truth, and thus many hunting expeditions ended up with bitter disappointment for the young lions and likewise for myself.

And then came the moment I was most afraid of. Roarago and Roaragi reached adolescence, and naturally sexual urges began to stir within them, even if they didn’t choose it. The problem with adolescent lions is that their fathers and mother also notice it, and one evening the two of them encountered a sharp roar by their furious father, which was immediately followed by a warning roar by their mother, which could only be explained as a good piece of advice to immediately take flight from the scene so that no harm comes their way. A problem arose. Now I was forced to evacuate my secured hiding places which were spread around the lions’ territory, and which I had laboriously constructed over the course of many years, and to set out after these two young lions to tour the savanna.

The two quickly found themselves in distress and hungry, far away from the family, and for the first time supposed to take care of their own needs by themselves. As smart lions growing up in a normative family, they knew one important safety rule: they must not run into larger and more senior male lions, heads of families that rule neighbouring areas. Any such encounter would end up with certain death.

I was also distraught, since riding after lions in a jeep is difficult and dusty, and you can easily lose them, too. Besides, I didn’t want to accidentally ruin images of other photographers scattered around the savanna with a jeep that suddenly pops into the frame which then has to be removed by Photoshop.

I realised I had no choice, and therefore I continued chasing the two between the territories of other lions while keeping out of their hubs. Slowly but surely the lions improved their ambush attacking style. They may be able to achieve speeds of 45-55 km/h, yet their capability to keep up this fast running speed beyond 100 meters is limited. Therefore, any attack of a fast animal ends in failure, unless it starts from a short distance of no more than 10 or 20 meters. Indeed, improving their assault technique reaped successes for them on the hunting range, raising their chances of survival. Thus, gradually, the two young lions became accustomed to the new way of life away from the family.

One day, my wanderings came to an end. One of the lions, I believe it was Roarago, met a young lioness. She liked him and he found her to be beautiful. He began courting her and I, by chance, or perhaps not, met a camerawoman who was following the lioness, with a similar contract to mine. Yet, as opposed to the lioness, who seemed to take interest in her suitor, it appeared that the camerawoman saw me as an old stalker and nothing more.

The camerawoman’s name was Jenny, and it was obvious that she still considered being a wildlife photographer to be her life’s ambition. I assumed that at some point the mosquitos, indigestion, sweat and lack of regular showers, not to mention the horrible stench drifting from the corpses – would tire her out completely and wipe out her enthusiasm.

In any case, Roarago and Roaragi had already reached adulthood and become stronger and their mane began to grow out black hairs. Their weight also increased, and their self confidence in their strength grew. They began moving freely around the savanna and were no longer concerned about running into other senior lions. The roar, which once used to deter them, only spurred them on. Thus, it transpired that one day I was forced to follow Jenny and the lions, and instead of respectfully backing down we all ran into a senior lion.

An epic battle between the senior lion and the two siblings ensued. And from the outset the brothers’ advantage was clearly obvious, and the senior lion backed away injured, clearing the area and taking off. Roarago noticed the lioness and began marching towards her. But his brother Roaragi beat him to it. The two brothers looked at each other and probably exchanged some words in their own language. Roarago possibly admitted to his brother that he was tired out after battling the senior lion, further hinting to his brother to move along.

I had a rather similar debate with my libido, which was also exhibiting signs of tiredness and, like one of the brothers, I remained at rest without trying any moves on Jenny.

That day Roarago and Roaragi conquered a new area in the savanna for themselves and laid the foundations for a new family. The two brothers lifted their heads to the skies and sounded their joint roar of victory. I ended up stuck with my own problem, how to get along with Jenny and how to study the new area in order to continue documenting the lions without stepping on her toes.

Thus, as the savanna was getting used to the change of rule and the beginning of a new dynasty in the area, I was treading lightly around Jenny, swapping my ambitions of sleeping with her for the wish of finding a place to lie in ambush so that I can document the lions without interfering with her tasks.

Over the course of the year, the family saw the addition of male and female cubs. The two brothers settled amongst themselves the hierarchy of seniority, according to which the older Roarago was number one and the younger Roaragi was number two. Roarago, who was the tougher of the two, set the rules in the area, and the rest of the residents of the savanna who were below him acted accordingly.

In our case, I was the subordinate to hard-hitting Jenny, although less so because of her assertiveness and more due to what was customary among professional cameramen in the savanna, that whoever was in a certain area first, they were the ones in charge and in command of it. Either way, I was hoping to succeed in convincing the director at his Hollywood office to forgo the continuation of this project, which was refusing the come to an end, and to purchase the rest of the filmed footage from Jenny, who turned out to be an extremely talented cinematographer.

However, he wouldn’t hear of it and I remained stuck with two lions who only seemed to be growing more successful from one week to the next.

Roarago turned out to be a tough and ruthless ruler. One day a foursome of young lions passed through the savanna. Roaragi, the calmer brother, was the first one to notice them. He followed them with his gaze and was debating whether to let them go or to attack them, since by passing through the area these youngsters were breaking the rules of the game. Roaragi recalled those days, when he and his brother had to leave their family and were forced to live in constant fear in a territory that was not their own. He decided to hold back and let the pack of young lions pass.

Nevertheless, his older brother at once sensed their smells. As soon as the foursome appeared at the top of the sloping plain by the adjacent river, he pounced the youngest of them, and before the lions under attack had a chance to understand what was happening around them, the two brothers already killed the young lion they attacked and turned their heads towards the others.

The three young lions were quick to make a simple calculation, turned their tails towards the attackers and ran for their lives. These were powerful moments full of viciousness and splendour, all captured by my camera in their full glory. Jenny would have killed someone for such shots. But I already had hundreds of minutes of similar struggles under my belt, and the only thing that possibly still made me happy was the fact that they gave me an excuse to join up with Jenny in order to show her the images.

I was hoping she might be bored or frustrated enough to make out with me a little bit. It worked, although I guess the fact that she found out her husband was leaving her might have been a more crucial point. In any case, Jenny was quick to clarify to me that this was a one-time thing, never to be repeated. Over the entire two years that we continued documenting the lions, she repeatedly reminded that to me time and time again whenever I tried getting closer to her with any renewed hope.

It might sound cold and cruel on her part, but wildlife cameramen in the savanna are individualistic creatures, so during this whole time each one of us was anyway lying in their own shelter, away from one another, while ants were climbing on our feet and elephants were crapping in front of our noses.

One day, about two years after our one-off kiss, the moment of truth arrived in Roarago and Roaragi’s area. Three young lions, who were strong enough to face up to the two brothers, invaded their area.

Roarago did not hesitate, he leapt towards them and an epic battle instantly erupted. Following a close-fought battle that lasted several minutes, the sense that this was a fight for life or death prevailed. The three circled Roarago from every angle and each one of them chose another part of his body as their target. The first charged towards his throat that was covered by his mane, the second attached his back legs, and the third sunk his teeth into Roarago’s lower abdomen. Within a short time, Roarago surrendered. His lower body was paralyzed when he badly injured his back, and his two lower legs were no longer able to respond. His interiors sprang out from his lower abdomen, and along with them erupted blood that covered all the combatants. Roarago did not relent, and although his death was imminent, he continued striking his enemies with his two front legs. But the battle was won.

 By the time his brother was back from his affairs, everything was lost.

Nevertheless, I, after all these years, wasn’t around to document the battle and the lions’ end.

Jenny called me over to her tent for the fist time in two years, and I couldn’t refuse her.

I sent the director shots from another lions’ battle, one that I shot more than 15 years ago.

He didn’t notice.

– Dov Bahat