There’s a lake in Ethiopia, from which the river Nile arises. The Blue Nile. This is the lake Tana. Seen from above, it’s heart-shaped. The river takes its rise from the tip of the heart like the navel-string from the placenta.
There’s a dog, no longer next to me but always in my heart. My unappeasable-inextinguishable devotion and love for dogs and for the rhodesian ridgeback breed arises from her very being. Her name is Tana. Seeing her from above, she is the mere will, the mere sense and the mere Africa. On her back, the typical backwards growing hairstripe, the ridge, like the blade of a sword. Strong individual, a real friend, a real woman. I loved to watch as she grew, changed and addled day after day.
African lion dog. Not just because she’s a lion hunter. But because her fur is as gold-red as the savannas, her eyes as fiery as amber, her heart as brave as that of a lion, and from the tip of it, love takes its rise like the Blue Nile from lake Tana. My personal little Africa.
And I believe this is just the right tune:
