Alistair

Zimbabwe — Within 5 minutes of meeting Al (short for Alistair) in Harare, I was climbing into a Land Cruiser, and he was telling me how lions with a taste for humans know how to crush our skulls. "Those are the ones who have attacked humans before," he says over his coffee in a tone as if he were talking about taxes or the weather. "The ones on their first human just tear you up."

“I don’t have good 80’s music today,” he says as the bluetooth plays an Owl City song his daughter put on his phone for him. We’re driving 2 hours southwest from the capital through dry farmland, and government toll booths. Later in the week, he will hold his wife’s hand as Africa by Toto plays. He listened to it on repeat when he picked her up for their wedding.

On our drive, Al tells a story about every African animal trying to kill him at some point. He's hunted lions, cape buffalo, daughter's boyfriends: "I've run from everything. If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space.”

I was in Zim for work. I'm a video producer for a church, and we've spent the year visiting our international partners and telling stories with them. Al and Shelley run a wilderness camp for kids in Zimbabwe.

I wish I could say I arrived ready for an adventure. But traveling for mission work is hard. You see and experience things you wish you hadn’t when you're supporting the people who are loving the lost, the broken, and the suffering. And all the while, there's parts of you that are lost, broken, and suffering, too. For that and reasons beyond work, it had been a long summer.

It's August in Zimbabwe, which means springtime. The savannas are turning golden along with the great Msasa trees and their scouring branches in yellow, brown, and chartreuse.

The sun was sinking when we arrived at Al and Shelley’s home. Al, without a thought, hopped out of the truck. I checked the ground for snakes.

We were on the camp property. It's just like American wilderness camps: ropes courses, kayaking, staying in lodges, and big swimming pools. But it's in the African bush, and there are crocodiles in the river with the kayaks (not in the pools, thankfully).

When I went to camps like that, I was usually the "project kid" in the group. There's always that one kid that everyone has to cheer on to get them onto the rock climbing wall, the zip line, or the God-forsaken climbing rope (hell has a whole gymnasium that is just climbing ropes). Once or twice, I managed to try whatever the "adventure" was. Most of the time, I was too scared or just not strong enough.

I couldn't sleep. I thought about Al and how this man has the most adventurous life I've ever heard of. He's stared down lions, he's fought off poachers with a 12-gauge, he's got an elephant friend named Mark. I can't compare. I spent the whole ride up here thinking about the varieties of poisonous snakes I read about online. Me? What have I done? I'm as suburban, white chicken as it gets.

A few nights later, my team had dinner with Al and Shelley at a Safari reserve (where Al's elephant friend Mark lives). We spent the day with Al telling us more about these animals than Jeff Corwin ever dreamed of knowing.

After dinner, we sat around the table and talked. It’s kind of freeing to not have Netflix, or wi-fi to get back to.

I talked about my summer. I talked about how hard it is to see so much suffering abroad, at home, and in my own heart. Shelley is easy to open up around. Talking with her is like getting into a kayak with Al on a river where the neighborhood crocodile lives — it feels horrifying at first, but with them, you know you’re safe.

When I told my story and shared my thoughts and my guts, they prayed for me. Al prayed, "Lord, this man is so brave, I just have so much respect for his courage, and vulnerability.”

My eyes popped open. The lion/cape buffalo/crocodile hunter called me brave. Wow. Maybe I am.

So if you want to be adventurous and brave like Al and I, remember: there’s more than one way to live on the edge.

And if you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space.