There is a fifteen pound tortoise asleep in my room. Can’t say I’ve ever had this problem before. In Congo, I never had much in the way of animal problems because there was not much in the way of animals. I hated to be the one to break it to my nephew that I didn’t see many animals in Congo – unless they were being carried back from a hunt cut in two, and even then I wondered how they managed to kill it since they’re so few large animals left (needless to say, I kept this last nugget of information to myself). This is not to say that Burundi is crawling with wildlife. It just happens that the hotel I’m staying in has a tortoise that walks around, always seemingly with a resolute sense of purpose. This is the second time he’s waltzed across my porch and into my room. Earlier today he was lounging in my doorway, perhaps trying to escape some French kids who picked him up moments earlier. Unfortunately for him they spotted him, retrieved him, dropped him, then lost interest. He wandered off into the hotel grounds. As I sat on my computer in my little living area an hour later, he walked by, circled a chair, then went into my bedroom. He’s been sleeping in a corner ever since. I was actually a little concerned that he was dead, since he’s been there for a few hours. Maybe the drop from the French kids took him out, I theorized. So I snuck up behind him, kneeled to the ground, and listened for signs of life. In the silence, his sleeping tortoise breaths sounds like an old man.
He stayed there until I was ready for bed. At which point I went to the hotel bar and had a staff member help me escort him outside. When I work up the next morning, he was sleeping on my porch. I guess he likes me.
He stayed there until I was ready for bed. At which point I went to the hotel bar and had a staff member help me escort him outside. When I work up the next morning, he was sleeping on my porch. I guess he likes me.
