It’s not New York City and no one here is going to win a Rhodes Scholarship, but life is good. Simple, mostly, but good. And you definitely are the leader. Everyone looks to you to solve disputes. And protect them. And you do. You are the strong and mighty one. The respected leader.
But then the invaders come one last time. You fight them off and that gives the others time to run to safety. But they are many. And you are one.
Finally, they overcome you. And leave you dying in the jungle.
But not before -- to add to the unspeakable horror of it all -- they cut off your hands . . .and head . . . and take them to display as trophies.
A few hours later, the little group reassembles. They sit. And wait. For their leader.
But he never comes.
What must they think? How do they cope? (The movie (*) showed this scene. I found it heartbreaking trying to imagine how they felt and what they thought .)
* * * * *
And then, a few years later, someone did the same thing to the woman who loved them and fought for them . . . She was 53 years old.
* * * * *
In Rwanda Dian Fossey and Digit rest side by side in their graves in the Virunga Mountains.
(*) NPT Documentary, June 2013, "The Lost Film of Dian Fossey," (repeat).
