Oh Dear Little Prince and Mighty King of Africa

365 days have passed since the night-sky raged like no other, on the streets of Tokyo. I was impressed by the forces of nature, but slightly disturbed by the violent torrents and gales pounding down on my neighborhood. Something definitely wasn’t right. I don’t know why I chose not to stay at home that night, or why I didn’t stick around the office for a couple more hours with all my hardworking compatriots. Something told me to make the most of that evening, a couple weeks before saying good-bye to land for another 3 months. Life is short, enjoy every moment of it.

The storm had passed by the morning of March 17, 2006, but the air was still ripe with unease and an eerie calm, both indoors and out. As I walked into my office at Peace Boat, a few people were already settling in for another day at the desks, but another few were caught in the midst of the aftermath from the previous night’s tempest. I remember feeling confused and curious as to why there was so much fuss, but it was time for business as usual. Bit by bit, the tension increased and the curiosity turned into fear. Things had drastically changed in our little world.

I walked into the park, our little haven just outside our doors, knowing that there was no turning back and the bubble was about to burst. It was there that I heard the news.

Far across the Asian continent and down over the Indian Ocean to Africa. Kenya, the beautiful sanctuary where we were so very few months before, rolling across the savannas and sharing the home of the wonderful native beasts. But it was there, in the early light of the Dark Star, that the lions -- the most magnificent of all -- went to sleep.
Our dear, dear friends Kumar (Little Prince) Lewis and Peter Orwa, our lions, were hunted down and taken away from us. We still don’t know why those men chose to invade their den and set their sights on them. We didn’t hear the shots, but we felt them the world over.

Kumar. I remember walking into that office 8 ½ months prior and seeing you: big and tall with striking good looks, smiling and welcoming, as I soon learned was the norm. I remember hearing the coolness in your voice when you broke my anticipation and told me you were taking me, and 15 others, on the journey of a lifetime. We set sail on the seas, September of that year, seeing the planet through 1000 sets of eyes. Kumar, your enthusiasm and strength guided us along. 103 days passed and we came back to the docks of Japan, but I was lucky to be continuing the journey with you.

Amidst the concrete jungle of Tokyo, I joined the family at the aptly dubbed “fashionable mansion.” Kumes, Audrey, Atsushi, and Nick. The Peace Pals, the Curry Club, Children of the World and the Waves, the Drummer and his Band. I can still feel the big “bear” hug I got from you, welcoming me to the pad; the reggae rhythms flowing out of your room; the sound of the smoothies being blended and the smell of the coffee being poured – your morning ritual; and the sweet, surfer boy’s salutation “dude” welcoming us to the day. And I remember the tears and cries when we learned you were gone.

I’m so glad we got to say goodbye on the night you left Japan. I’m so glad we got to hear one last beat of your drum. I’m so glad to have known you and to continue to know you. I hope you know you mean the world to me and how much I thank you for giving the world to me. I’ll continue to think about you the 100 times a day that I already do. All the love, peace, and happiness I have to give, I have for you.

Kumar Lewis – March 16, 2006

Peter. I only knew you for a brief moment in time, but everything that Africa is, you were: large with life, gifted and glorious. You beat the drums as strong as your heart. Your cheerful calls of “JAMBO” still ring in my ears, and your drums still beat in our heart. I know I’ll see you again, I know I have seen you again: in the eyes of your son, Sam, or in the eyes of all your other beloved children that I hope one day to meet. Thank you for welcoming us to your home, for giving us the gift of your music. Mambo Sawasawa and a big “bippity bap bap bip!”

Peter Orwa – March 21, 2006


For our Little Prince and Might King of Africa. In honour of both of you (and your dear families) and with all the love of me and the rest of our 51st Cruise family: Chris, Tee, Andrea, Tasza, Abi, Fred, Derek, Deb, Lydia, Tania, Reevesie, Adrianna, Andy, Maria, Natsumi, Yumi, Maho, Eric, Emilie, Joh, Meri, Ryo, Miki, the CC team, and Jane.

And from your "fashionable" family: Audrey, Sushi, and Me.


www.kumarlewis.com
www.peaceboat.org