Craig Packer - Lions in the Balance: Man-Eaters, Manes, and Men with Guns

The night had been cool, and Susan was lying curled on her side, our backs touching under the coffee-colored comforter. The yellow morning light filtered through the curtains; the sun was already up, but it was still early. We were in Barbie Allens house in a leafy green neighborhood called Spring Valley. Barbies father was a first-generation settler from the United Kingdom; he had been given land by the colonial government for service in World War One, and Barbie had famously retrieved a pistol from underneath her pillow and chased off an intruder after being shot in the arm during the Mau Mau Rebellion of the early 1950s. For the past twenty years, Barbie had graciously hosted my family whenever we passed through Nairobi.

Spring Valley is one of the poshest parts of Nairobi; most homes are surrounded by high walls and guarded by Kenyans in security uniforms. Barbie has lived here for thirty years; she only has one night watchman, who goes off duty when her African cook starts work first thing in the morning. Her picture-windowed living room is decorated with landscape paintings, and her shelves are filled with hundreds of books on wildlife and Africana.

Susan and I were sleeping in one of the downstairs bedrooms; a few birds chirped in the trees outside, but the morning was otherwise quiet.

Barbie called from the hallway, Craig, theres trouble.

I rose quickly, pulling on my clothes, and started toward the door. Susan sat up, covering herself with the comforter, and asked, Whats wrong?

Before I could answer, Barbie and her cook were pushed into the bedroom by two men with guns.

I can clearly recall Barbies expression of anger and frustration, her cooks frightened resignation, Susans cowering behind the covers, and the two pistols pointed straight at us. But of the following few moments, all that remains was the one impotent thought: Dont kid yourself; you have no idea what is going to happen next. You have no idea. Dont kid yourself.

The two men wanted our valuables. And there was nothing more important in that moment than making sure they got every scrap of value in the room. Placate them. Win them over. Keep everyone alive.

Standing a foot taller than the cook and the two thugs, I was the obvious focal point. Any attempt at heroism would be in my handsbut my hands were empty, and they had guns, so I avoided looking them in the face and tried to make myself seem as small as possible.

I handed them the Pelican case with the video camera from the Discovery Channel (Send us any footage that you take of your lions or the Serengeti. But Ill be on my honeymoon and working with my students... Thats, OK, they persisted, anything interesting you see...). I hand over my own camera in its case along with our passports and all our cash.

Placate them, win them over: Here is our money as well as our camera.

Susan was confused at first, pushing a gun away from her face, thinking they were the law and she was being taken as a criminal. But now she is starting to panic.

Barbie, angrier than Ive ever seen, scolds the gunmen, This is her first trip to Africa!

One of the men has worn a nasty scowl since first entering the room. He raises his pistol to Susans forehead and says, Welcome to Nairobi.

Just like a scene from Pulp Fiction.

Barbie groans in disgust. The second crook focuses on the loot; he sees Susans new training shoes, starts looking around for a way to gather the goods.

I offer one of our suitcases.

It occurs to me that really only Mr. Psycho is intent on keeping us in line. The way he is holding his gun makes me want to get a better sideways look; maybe it is a dummy.

You have no idea; dont kid yourself.

They order Barbie and me to leave the room. Mr. Psycho escorts us out the door, leaving terrified, naked Susan alone with Mr. Loot.

Oh god, now they are going to rape my wife on our honeymoon, on her first day in Africa. This is Kenya during the height of the AIDS pandemic. I have to gain control; it is just Mr. Psycho and me for the moment, one-on-one.

But Mr. Loot suddenly appears with Susan; they had lagged behind long enough for her to get dressed and to assist him with our luggage; he wasnt interested in her, he never touched her, he just needed help opening the Pelican case.

Mr. Psycho asks, Where is a room with a lock?

They hustle us inside the downstairs bathroom; Barbie sits to my left on the edge of the tub and leans sideways against the sink; Susan sits to my right. I cant remember where the cook was at that point, maybe behind us in the bottom of the tub. Susan seems convinced this is where they will shoot us, the blood of four bodies running collectively down the drain; she rests her head on my lap and waits for the end.

The gunmen stand just outside the bathroom door; they are having some sort of discussion in KikuyuI have no idea what they are saying.

I ask Barbie to cool off and Susan to stay calm. I want them to keep their eyes down, stare directly at the floor. Im thinking that maybe if the raiders realize we couldnt recognize them in a lineup, theyll let us go. If they had wanted to kill us just for the fun of it, we would already be dead.

The robbers close the door from the outside before realizing that the door only locks from the inside. They wave us out into the hall, demanding a room that can be locked from the outside. Barbie leads us toward her bedroom upstairs. As she passes a light switch at the base of the stairs, she flicks a switchintending to activate the silent alarm but, instead, turning on the roof sirenRrrrrrrrrr.

Its OK, Barbie reassures them, I do that all the time; it only blew for a second. No one ever comes.