'The Discipline Guy'A Story by Zypy Kirubi 'The discipline Guy'
Tiger Den
hotel was beautiful and held overwhelming tranquility. The place was
clean. It had a vast homestead with monkeys at the backyard trees. A
concrete wall separated the hotel from the jungle and kept the monkeys
in the backyard trees from interfering with our activities, so we
believed; we trusted the cute creatures. However, no sooner had we hung
our wet clothes in the backyard than the monkeys stole them. They
chattered excitedly at our tour guide who angrily threw stones at them.
He cursed the day they were created and condemned, with contempt their
disgraceful and unfathomable behavior. He clenched his jaws and ground
his teeth. Then he rubbed his head and cupped his fist with his other
hand; Spitting, he vowed to cut off their tails next time they pulled
such a prank. They chattered in the trees while we walked away to see the dry rain forest Biome. We belonged to a group of twenty students and three professors on a mission to study the Biomes of the world through observations, reflections and integrations. The class also involved Literature reading and travel writing. We had left the United States one month earlier and by the time we had reached the Tiger Den hotel we had already experienced many different milieus and run gauntlet of travel but our Fortitude had remained the core essence of our character. Our bond had vastly strengthened, our personalities had immensely changed and our attitudes prodigiously gained understanding. The journey was hectic, full of merry moments and glum ones. We were learning to contribute more than we consumed. In Tiger Den national park in India our guide was responsible of taking us on an eventide tour around the park on that material day, 8th of February 2010. He was young, in his late twenties, and rarely laughed. He was lean and tall, about 6''2; taller than most Indians we had met. The air was humid and stuffy but he suggested we take a walk before the sun went down. Since we were eager to see the jungle and study the Biome, we did not dwell on what the monkeys had done to our clothes. Trees cut close on both sides of the tarmac road outside the hotel, the thick under-bush kept us from entering the jungle. Our guide rubbed his head and delivered a monologue about the landscape. A bus appeared at a road bend and zipped past us in a break-neck speed without even slowing down. Another one whizzed by and this time we couldn't help it, we blocked our ears with our hands. The engine noises were loud enough to throw us out of balance and disturb the flappable wildlife in the jungle. The guide trembled and kicked imaginary stones on the ground. He cursed and madly pursued the bus on foot until it roared out of sight. We saw him stop and yell. Then, at a snail's pace, he caught up with us and we walked in silence as he continued his tour speech. A few minutes later, the guide picked a piece of litter lying on the dry grass. He lectured us on how dangerous the grunge could be to grazers in the park and then he dropped it with an injunction for us to follow him. One of our woozy group members tried to pick the trash up. The guide quickly stopped him. “Discipline”, he spat, “should be practiced in the uttermost”. He mentioned that it was not appropriate for our group to collect trash. If the papers were dangerous for the animals then why did he leave them there? We were in shock. Seeing us hesitate, he whirled around and repeated the same admonition -we could either follow him or go back. Nobody was willing to infringe his command. We got to a point where we could clearly see black monkeys in huge number near the roadway. A short distance away from them we found a cleared entrance leading to a wooden bridge. The jungle was dry and the trees sparse. The river was dry due to the lateness of the Monsoon winds. As we checked to see if we could observe any creatures in the woods, the guide stopped us. He pronounced the word discipline like he was addressing some naughty kindergarten kids who could not pay attention to simple rules. He demanded we sit down on the dusty bridge for a picture. At first we were drawn to thinking he was just razzing but he rubbed his head and paced. He was ready to inveigh on anybody who disobeyed his order. Sedulously, we all sat down without a jangle and waited for his next instructions. He repeated the word discipline with a smug look on his straight face. We simpered. He preached discipline again and made his way to the center of his students with his arms extended sideways. He wanted a picture with us right at the bridge; a picture that he could take to his family, he disclosed. Some people found the situation unbearably side splitting and they nicknamed him 'The Discipline guy'. After a moment of silence, he blew his nose with his hand and wiped his fingers on a stone, then on his shirt. Discipline, he repeated, was important. © 2011 Zypy KirubiAuthor's Note
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