On a number of other occasions, lions came at night to view the Ju/wasi. I remember one night in particular, when my mother was at the Ju/wa encampment, and I was in my parents’ tent at our camp writing notes. I soon heard a man’s strong voice in a stern, commanding tone telling someone to leave immediately. The Ju/wasi never took that tone with one another.

I came out of the tent to see what was happening, and behind some of the shelters I saw four very large lions, each three times the size of a person, all standing very tall as if on tiptoe, stretching their necks, looking over the tops of the shelters at the people. The women and children were sitting perfectly still, but two of the men were on their feet, standing with knees and elbows bent, the partial crouch of someone confronted. The lions began to shift a little, as if they were uneasy. They had been seen. What might have started as a viewing session was turning into a confrontation. They didn’t seem entirely comfortable with that.

The speaker was ≠Toma. Without taking his eyes off the lions, he repeated his command while reaching one hand back to grasp a flaming branch that someone behind him was handing to him. He slowly raised it shoulder-high and shook it. Sparks showered down around him. “Old lions,” he was saying firmly and clearly, “you can’t be here. If you come nearer we will hurt you. So go now! Go!”

He had the full attention of the lions. Perhaps they knew about burns. Also, like many other animals, they might have been impressed by the extra size the flaming branch had added to what at first might have seemed to be a little creature. Suddenly he became much bigger. The lions watched ≠Toma for a moment longer, then gracefully they turned and vanished into the night.