…like a blue-butted monkey.
I’m serious.
Last week while we were all in Manzini, Swaziland (I’m giving specifics in order to warn and protect you.) we took the relaxing opportunity to see some waterfalls. After some confusing travel and nearly hours of hiking with the rays of the African sun beating down on us, we were nearing the falls and ready to enjoy its refreshing coolness. We got there a little before noon. Half of us crossed the water to explore the rocks and falls further down the river, the other few simply decided to lay on the shore to rest. I carried some of our lunch in my backpack so after a short time of swimming and cliff diving my team gathered around to see what could fill our tired and hungry bellies. Chips, cookies, peanut butter, and jelly. Heather had the bread with her on the other side of the river. We settled to dig into the chips. I couldn’t wait much longer – a good PB&J is one of my favorite meals. Renee and I dared to cautiously cross the slippery boulders and wade through the river once more to reach Heather…but mostly I had the bread in mind. We made it through a few casualties of a a bruised elbow and wet clothes – Renee fell and I underestimated the depth of the water. Heather turned her head and with an emotionless expression said, “There is no bread.” What?! How could this be? We entrusted the main part of our meal to you!? You were to carry and protect it?! What on earth could have happened!? You’re never getting this responsibility again! …All these foolish and selfish thoughts raced through my mind in a matter of seconds before Heather leaned over to show me a picture she had taken.
It was the blue-butted monkey who came to steal, kill, and destroy. Heather explained the story. She and a few others we lagging behind as our whole squad was getting closer to the falls. Her bag was over one shoulder and the loaf of bread was swinging in her hand. The stealth creature saw his treasure from a distance. As he came out of the trees that lined the path Heather paused and the two danced around – Heather eyeing the monkey and the monkey eyeing the bread. He jumped, he attacked, digging his fingers into the bagged loaf of bread. Still thinking and believing the bread could be saved Heather swung the bag around hoping the monkey’s grip would release. This did not happen. She thought of kicking but it was too late. The money’s teeth had already begun to feed off of our meal. She let go. He ran but just far enough to still be seen as if he was mocking us loudly.
As Heather told this story my attitude changed. I laughed. Opening the peanut butter and jelly I sat on a rock and ate them with a fork straight out of the jars. I was hungry and no monkey was going to steal my Bread of Life.
