When Duty calls, We Show Up

By Abraham Loomuna

It began as an ordinary workday busy, structured, and predictable. The sun dipped below the horizon, duties were wrapped up, and by around 7:00 p.m. we were sharing dinner as a team, winding down after a long day in the office. Then the phone rang.

One of our guardians from Lorkiu was on the line. Lions had struck. One cow lay dead, another badly injured. The request was urgent: vehicle assistance was needed to recover the carcass and help get the injured animal home before the night grew more dangerous. Within minutes, the monitoring team was alerted. A vehicle was arranged, machetes and ropes secured, and we set off into the darkness. The bush at night is unforgivingly rough, bumpy terrain swallowed by tall, dry grass that reduced visibility to almost nothing. GPS coordinates guided us, but every meter forward demanded focus. In places where headlights failed us, we relied on the old bush tradition of raising torch beams into the night sky, signaling our presence and searching for theirs.

After several tense minutes of driving and scanning the darkness, we finally spotted faint rays in the distance. Relief washed over us. They had seen us too.
When we reached the scene, the mood was heavy. It was dangerous to linger in the open bush at night as elephants roamed nearby, and the lions could return at any moment. The herders looked exhausted, grief etched across their faces, yet a flicker of hope appeared when they saw us arrive. We first assessed the situation, discussed the safest approach, and planned how to transport both the carcass and the injured cow.

Just then, a second vehicle arrived. The timing couldn’t have been better. With shared effort, the task became manageable. Drawing on the last reserves of our energy, we worked together lifting, pulling, and securing the animals into separate vehicles. It was teamwork born of necessity and compassion. The journey back was slow and punishing. The terrain fought us at every turn, the darkness pressed in, and we carefully followed the vehicle ahead, its taillights our only guide. Time seemed to stretch endlessly. Somewhere along that rough track, as the clock ticked past midnight, we entered Christmas Day not with carols or celebration, but deep in the bush, doing what the job demanded.

Eventually, we reached the temporary bomas. Tired and thirsty, we paused to drink water before maneuvering closer to the waiting truck. With one final effort, we offloaded the livestock. The injured cow was alive. That mattered.

We gathered quietly, offered our condolences for the loss, and reassured the community. The team was informed to follow up by tracking the responsible lions and conducting a mock hunt to reduce the risk of further attacks. With that, we parted ways and began the journey back to camp. It was Christmas Day. We hoped for a few hours of rest, soft music in the background, and maybe grilled meat but above all, the quiet satisfaction of having shown up when it mattered most