A Dazzle of Zebras
Several years ago we were on safari in Vernon Crookes Nature Reserve, South Africa. It is one of the smaller parks in KwaZulu-Natal and better known for its variety of birds than animals. For this exact reason, when we happened upon a dazzle of zebras (yes, that really is the collective noun), we stopped for longer than usual to observe it - knowing we might not see another four-legged beast in many miles. Growing up in South Africa I've seen many zebras, but never before had I noticed them resting their heads on one another’s shoulders like I did that day. We played a game in the car with our young daughters, promising a prize for guessing the reason behind this peculiar behavior.
“Too lazy to hold up their own heads!”
“Looking over each other’s shoulders for lions!”
“Hugging!”, they shouted out, each one eager to have the correct answer. But the candy prize would have to wait, because the truth was we didn’t know either. Later, after consulting the internet, I came to the conclusion that there is much speculation - not unlike the answers my children provided. However, there were two reasons we had not considered: grooming (they nibble each other’s necks to remove parasites) and strengthening social bonds.
It was this last suggestion that resonated with me as I thought back on the dazzle of zebras in the middle of that grassy plain. It reminded me of how we had huddled together as a family, just a few months prior, when my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. How we had leaned on one another for support as we shared our grief and the responsibilities for her care. Although we'd lived abroad for 15 years, we were back in the herd, strengthening the ties that bind: the family bonds.
What I found was a different herd made up of people who shared a common experience.
But what happens when you don't have your family around to help you through difficult times? This was not an unfamiliar thought to me, after all I had birthed my children worlds away from the support of my mother and sister. What I found was a different herd made up of people who shared a common experience. In London, it was the traveler, the transient, the neither here nor there. We were all from somewhere and on our way somewhere else, but all the while life happened. Babies were born, challenges faced, new experiences enjoyed, different cultures embraced. And soon we found ourselves resting our heads on one another's shoulders, sharing the burdens along with the joy. Strengthening social bonds.
If we choose to vulnerably share our lives with those around us, we find shoulders to rest our heads on.
When my mother passed away, support flooded in from this global community, now scattered across the world, and I felt my head being lifted up; held. So it was, too, when we returned to Austin and were embraced by the herd we'd become a part of there. Friends to share a meal with, schools that encourage our children to grow, and a church that supports us on our faith journey. And this is what I've come to realize: if we choose to vulnerably share our lives with those around us, we find shoulders to rest our heads on. In turn, we offer our shoulders as a place of safety and empathy so we can all be dazzled by the beauty of community.