At the dawn of humanity, man (and I use this term in the old fashioned way, referring to the species representing Homo sapiens rather than a specific gender) was a hunter. The spoils of the hunt fed the tribe and success was key to survival. The hunter needed to be good at picking up the spoor and staying with it till the kill was achieved. It was a science, what with beaters and drummers to flush the quarry out and the hunters to bring it down. Each bit needed to work precisely for success.
Modern times might have precluded the need for hunting to fill the stomach, but atavistic urges remain. These days, the quarry has been replaced by other targets and the 'kill' would be more of a 'win'. A key skill in the hunt, as I mentioned earlier, was following the trail of the quarry and managing the body of the hunt - the beaters - to get the game exactly where you wanted it.
The river of time and the sandpaper of need (or the lack of it) has eroded the ability to track the game, but the primal urges of managing a hunt remain. Where is the quarry? What places does it roam? What watering holes does it frequent? Where is it exactly, now? How do we get it into the open to get a clean shot? These questions still need to be answered for the new self-set targets.
The other day, it being a Saturday, my wife had forewarned me that she had to submit a project report on the coming Monday, so would need some time to finish work. In effect, she gave me explicit instructions to clear off, with our son so she could spend the morning working. Crystal clear instructions issued and understood with no slip between the cup and lip. So, of course, I took the shopping list, took the books to be returned to the library, raked my memory to bring up any suppressed 'to-do' things that had been buried there, found a couple and in this happy state set off with son in tow, whistling Man on the Moon (Tiger does a good chorus to it).
We reached the library and parked. My phone rang.
"Where are you?"
"In the car park."
"You haven't left yet?" she asked, incredulously.
I calmly pointed out that since the advent of the automobile, most cities tout the car park as a symbol of civilization and, in effect, there is more than one totem to progress erected in a city.
If she were within touching distance she would have strangled me. No audible threats to this effect were made, but I just knew.
"Ok, then which car park are you at?" She persisted.
"The one at the library."
"You haven't reached the library yet?" Unfortunately it is Scottie's day off and he couldn't beam me up there - I had to drive.
"Technically I am in the library compound."
"Let Tiger choose books."
"Of course Sweets." That's the purpose of bringing him to the Library.
Well, we went to the library where I let Tiger choose his books. He chose with gay abandon. He would potter over to the shelf (in the children's section the shelves are all just a metre high, so everything is well within his reach) and proclaim, "I want to read the green book!" He would proceed to pull out said book from the shelf, take it to the table, sit himself down and announce loudly to the whole room "TIGER IS READING A GREEN BOOK."
He'd then turn over all the pages, babbling to himself, till he reached the end whereupon, "THE BOOK IS FINISHED!" was announced to all and sundry, the book replaced in the shelf and a new one taken.
We had 'read' half a shelf of books and were just getting warmed up when my phone rang again.
"Can you send me an SMS? So that I don't forget when I reach there."
"Honey, I'm working," she chided me gently. "It is just one thing. Put it in the cart now."
"I'm still at the library."
"Why are you still there? Is everything ok? Have you lost him?" She was panicking now.
"No, everything is fine. Tiger is choosing books" I put on my most soothing, 'I'm in control' voice.
"What are you doing there?" She sounded quite incredulous. She didn't seem to have heard the last part of my answer. I thought I had made it perfectly clear. "Tiger is choosing books."
She spoke slowly as if to a mentally deficient individual. "You have to help him choose, Honey. He chooses shelves not books if you let him. Do NOT spend more than 15 minutes there. And get him home for lunch. See you soon."
All the phone calls are checking the advance party and gently directing them to the target - the supermarket.
Shopping for my wife is like a hunt and this time she hunts vicariously. Me and Tiger are the beaters. It is our job to reach the correct place at the correct time in order for the whole process to work. She is the one who pulls the trigger. The fact that she is not physically present is immaterial.
Hmmm...they should now be at the Library, where the second floor has children's books. This is just an ordinary trawl, nothing spectacular yet, still must ask for pop-up books. Have a sip of water. Look at the way the sun is placed, the time to reach the supermarket is in another quarter of an hour. Move up the aisle and ambush the peanut butter - the one with chunky bits.
If the hunters and beaters deviate from the set path, the hunt can go astray. It is crucial to maintain the line of communication to ensure things proceed smoothly.
And she is not alone in doing this. I remember the good old days at Hogwash - once when Jags and I went to buy a watermelon since it was a particularly hot day and we felt like having one. We walked around, looking for fruit, doing market research on the Sunday street market. We spent an hour and had one watermelon to show for our labours by the time we landed back at the apartment. Neets, who had decided he did not want to step out in the heat and humidity for the melon, had directed the operations all the way.
"So where are you?"
Look out of the window - we stepped out of the apartment 90 seconds ago.
"Do you know how to choose? Try the fruit seller at the corner. If he has one - hold it up I can see it from the window and tell you if it is any good."
Sure. We beat a path around it under the cover of trees.
"I can't see you - did you reach the guy?"
Sorry - he was out of melons.
"Strange, I thought he had some - coming in I had seen some, I thought anyway. Now I guess you'll have to send a picture across to me."
I thought you chose melons from the sound they made.
"Yes, you can tap it and hold the phone next to it, but sometimes it can't be heard too well over the phone, especially if it is noisy there."
He has tried it earlier?!
Anyway. We got the melon. The hunt was successful.
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