sometimes i can feel like a superhero…
I can be heard…
seen and felt across the world by people i neva met…
at the same time
yearn for …reach for…and..be in front of the person..
who says they want their heart saved…
but be invisible
– Lucci Yuponce
Permanence, perseverance and persistence
in spite of all obstacles,
discouragements and impossibilities:
it is this that in all things,
distinguishes the strong from the weak.
– Thomas Carlyle
March of the Flamingos
written & edited by Kendall F. Person
At once beautiful and thriving, Lake Makgadikgadi has been undone by the brutality of the Kalahari, which engulfed the waters several thousand years ago, leaving unforgivable terrain, known today as The Makgadikgadi Salt Pans. Most years, the lake attempts a comeback, with the rains falling up to 20 inches in some places, offering the allusion of paradise. Perhaps it is this allusion or maybe the Greater Flamingo, one of nature’s most beautiful and majestic creatures, has developed its own line of survival of the species. Dry, salty, dusty and unfathomably hot, this salt pan, one of the largest in the world, delivers the cruelest of ironies or perhaps it is a brilliant lesson in not judging a book by its cover. The flamingo may play the role of a diva, but there are few creatures alive that brave such a harsh and demanding test — at birth.
When the eggs in the colony hatch, up to 50,000, the water has dried up and the mirage has been replaced with a grim reality. Vultures circle high above, knowing that the march of the flamingos means a certain banquet for them all. There is water and there is food but it is more than 100 miles away. The hatchlings, at such a tender age not yet able to fly, and so they march. In the searing, scorching, baking heat. Over sharpened salt crystals that often slice through their webbed feet. The adults have already flown ahead, some fly back bringing food to the survivors and those breathing their last breath. Days turn into weeks and the sun unrelents. Many have already died, some carry dried mud around their feet, but they persevere nonetheless.
In the distance, the hatchlings can see their colony and an energy that they thought was all used up, drives through them and they wobble toward the lake, into the waiting embrace of their families and of paradise, once again.
So the next time you feel like giving up and throwing up both hands, think of the flamingo….. and march straight ahead.