The captain waves the meat right in front of the cage; little bits of it are breaking off and coming into the cage.
“Down, to the right!”
Another shark attacks the front of the cage, his nose pops inside the cage between me and the young man. Our eyes briefly meet, and I see in his what he must see in mine—happiness. A shark’s nose is almost on my shoulder. Time stops. My terror melts away, and I feel an immense flood of gratitude and exhilaration overtake me as I lean back, pushing myself away from the bars and the shark. He retreats as quickly as he comes, disappearing into the black sea.
I pull myself up, taking a deep breath, catching the eyes of the other tourists. This time everyone is joyous and friendly; we are now comrades.
“Down, to the right!”
I pull myself under again and again, catching shadows behind me—just out of site. Feeling the displacement of water behind the cage, I’m unable to turn around and see what is right there. Chills race up and down my spine.
At one point a shark even breeches right beside the cage, catching air several feet above. They say this is the only bay in the world where great white sharks breech.
For ninety minutes, we experience the awe and splendor of great white sharks, a rare opportunity to see this endangered species that has survived in the world’s oceans for nearly 500 million years, and now are on the brink of extinction at the hands of the biggest super-predator of alclass="underline" mankind.
I emerge from the cage, floating. I am ecstatic to the core and more alive than I have ever been.
The mood on the boat changes to one of excitement as everyone is chatting and even hugging each other. This group of strangers just had one of the most incredible experiences, and our conquest has bonded us in a way that only a major collective triumph can.
The captain explains that without shark research volunteers, much of the conservation and research work being done to protect sharks would not happen. He goes on to say that if anyone was going to be able to make it happen, it is the volunteers who would be able to make the largest impact in saving this species from extinction. Their experiences would help push through the lobby to make it illegal to hunt sharks around the world.
The captain’s father is a leader in having laws passed to protect great white sharks in South Africa. Tourist excursions, like the one today, are what fund shark research by private companies who are passionate to save this species from extinction.
Meeting Jaws one-on-one has changed my perception of him; from terror to one of respect and admiration for his superior strength and survival. I am not only in awe, but am humbled by this highly misunderstood masterpiece of creation. But more than anything else, I am grateful to this super predator for allowing me to finally be free of all fear.
Fear has been replaced with love. I can look at my mother, and when I do, I no longer see illness, suffering, and death. I see a healthy, strong, and amazing woman who has left so much awesomeness behind. I know she was glad I was there and understands why I couldn’t be there at the end. She is my mother, she loves me, and that love is what she leaves behind. It is enough. It is more than enough. I miss her. God I miss her, but it’s okay, it’s finally okay.
The Indian Ocean is now pink with sunset as the boat pulls into the marina. I open my journal and turn to a clean, fresh page. The words that had previously escaped me now flow with great ease—the circle is complete.
32
Farewell
I didn’t sleep well at all last night. It wasn’t the roar of the lions, the wind flapping the tent walls, the pending shark dive today, that didn’t end in gory fashion, after all.
It was because, after three and a half weeks of being here, I wasn’t prepared for what was coming this morning, which is the most difficult thing to do yet; leave the reserve. Of course, I knew this day would eventually come, but I hadn’t thought too much about the future because I was too busy living in the present and coming to terms with the past.
One can’t live in the past, as I learned, because the past is full of inhibitions, fears, and ugly demons. Living in the future wasn’t possible, either, because the present was too incredible to ignore. The basics were all I needed or wanted, which was the enjoyment of a simple meal accompanied by a great feeling of accomplishment when a day of physically demanding work and rough conditions closed. It was dangerous working with unpredictable wildlife, and it was harsh when Death made his ugly appearance.
It was easy to live in the moment here because each and every moment gripped me from deep within and forced me to overcome Fear, so I could finally confront and ultimately accept Life. Every moment, I was captivated. Each and every day, I gave sweat and perseverance, trying desperately to even out the balance sheet. But at the end of it all, I received far more than I could ever give. I leave behind a small contribution to the conservation efforts, but take away a lifetime’s worth of memories and skills that will see me through anything in the future. They say that to give is to receive, and this has been proven day after day in this small, out-of-the-way place in South Africa, where there’s always so much to do and the miracle of giving is always evident.
My initial concerns about coming here seem so silly now when I look back on them.
What if this is financially reckless? I feel richer than I ever have before.
What if I get murdered? I’m still alive.
What if it is ludicrous to cross the globe to volunteer, when I can do it at home? This experience has been so inspiring that it compels me to volunteer more often when I get back home.
Isn’t paying to volunteer contradictory? No, in fact, I feel indebted.
What if I get sick? Other than the occasional queasiness, my health is better than ever.
What if I have to go to hospital? It never happened, but if the need arose it was only a short thirty-minute drive.
What if people think I’m being irresponsible? Who gives a damn what people think?
What if I’m eaten by a lion, or worse, half-eaten, and I survive? I narrowly escaped that fate.
Why not wait and do this later in life, when I have loads of leisure time? There are no guarantees of “later in life,” or loads of leisure time. The only moment that is guaranteed is the present one.
What about the need to keep up with society’s expectations? Society fails to live up to my expectations a lot of the time, so I no longer care what its expectations of me may be.
In conclusion, my concerns were really nothing more than a bunch of hot air—insignificant toots like those of a zebra.
When my mum died, I was angry with God for not listening to my prayers. But God works in mysterious ways. He was listening, and He answered me here, in Africa. When I bowed in service, He knew I was finally ready to hear what He had to teach me. He danced before me in every sunrise and sunset. But that wasn’t enough. He sent His whispers on the wind and knocked loudly on my tent walls, and even then, I ran away. He opened the skies, unleashing rivers of rain, but even that couldn’t cleanse me of my demons. He polished the window to the universe every time the sun set to remind me I was not alone, but I only saw the brilliance of the sky. He summoned His creatures, one by one—the creatures I naively thought I was there to save—and slowly it began. He led me down a perpetual path of demon crushing, fear busting, and adventure, and somewhere along the way, I finally heard God, and I was able to forgive myself.
Soon, this will all be left behind. I will miss seeing the familiar dark blue coats of these uniformed soldiers who stand thousands of feet high above this valley. I will miss the African sky, the sky that is like no other, with its rainbows and silver-lined clouds, explosive sunrises, and inspiring sunsets. Never once did it fail to impress, and each and every day brought forth an original design even more exhilarating than the last.