Anonymous1: Once, a considerable while ago, I was venturing Africa with some colleagues. It was late, and we were all about ready to head back to the big camp following some nice observations. I rememeber hearing the concerned call of my close friend and research partner, Don. I stumbed back to Don, awaiting the reason for his concern. He simply pointed out onto the horizon. Two off-road vehicles were quickly approaching. With nowhere to run or hide, we simply waited. When at last they had finally arrived, these masked men stepped out from the cars carrying rifles and other dangerous firearms. They announced to us they meant to harm to us Westerners, and simply desired to take all of our belongings and leave us with our lives. Don stood up in protest and jumped forward, proclaiming something about morality before a bullet was lodged into his shoulder. I stared, gaping in shock. I turned back to the masked men and one with a large rifle bashed me with his stock, and then punched me to the ground. As I stumbled to sit up, the gunman pulled up his weapon, finger on the trigger. Awaiting death, I heard one last voice. “This ain’t it, Chief.”
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