I looked at the lioness sulked in its confined cage and it stared back blankly without any purpose. It had the sullen look of a beaten beast, made prisoner, condemned to pace back and forth in an unforgiving cell.

It was apparently quiet, breathing rhythmically, almost mechanically, resigned. This archetypal animal which we associate with something regal, fierce, powerful and loyal to its pride showed none of these attributes. It looked sad, resigned, condemned to a captive nightmare that mercifully only death will end.

But somewhere deep in its thoughts, a light struggles to flicker despite the confines of its prison, despite the ridicule of performing stupid tricks induced by shouts, jabs and the whip, of a tantalising vision of the vast savannah and sky, miles of territory where she hunts, nurses it’s young and rests with her sisters and aunts. She dreams of the chase, the kill, the unison of the pride, the protection of the territory and the hope of future generations.

But such tormenting thoughts help only to prolong its anguish and she keeps staring with those yellow eyes which although unable to interpret its being, cut deep within our souls in yearning to have her go free because hers is a nightmare from which she will never awaken.