If we were to discuss giraffes at a dinner party, the conversation would probably turn to their very long necks. In fact, scientists obsess over the knowledge of these extensive necks. Maybe your guests will start comparing giraffes to the human species. These ponderings might include having protective senses or the variety of internal organs inside their bodies. But what if your poshest guest would set down his fancy teacup and say, “Humans and giraffes both have the same number of vertebrae in their necks even though the giraffe’s neck is longer.” It was surely Jim whom you were talking to. Jim was a very skilled zoologist, and if you were lucky, he would explain a thing or two about his exploits.
“Once in Africa, I had met a young giraffe named Caroline. She was grazing and wouldn’t trust me at first. It took a while for her to get used to me. But she was very flexible to changes, and so we could stand side by side sometimes. I would see how she socialized with other giraffes and her marvellous blackish tongue. It was quite exciting, yes.” He’d then puff his pipe, and if you were luckier still, he would bring you around the world, showing you his travels.
You’d walk with him through the heat of Africa, the sun bearing down upon you, reflecting in fluorescent colours. You’d reach the spot where Caroline was standing, and Jim would have rested a hand on her unique skin. She’d probably be close to a tree, lifting her long neck to reach the leaves. You’d see her jet-black tongue and a twinkling in her eyes. “Scientists don’t know about this, but the giraffe’s neck has the ability to tie itself into knots,” Jim would smile. And that was when the giraffe’s neck started spinning round and round, forming a flawless knot. You’d gasp at this marvellous sight nobody ever saw. “She has a rather intelligent countenance, don’t you think?”
And at this point, Jim would let his eyes play in the sunlight, these almond eyes of his, they’d enrapture you, ensnare you into his world. If the dinner party would be over, he’d close his eyes for a long time and let you tumble back into reality, sitting at your chair with the roast turkey still on your plate, silverware gleaming. And as you went to bed that night, a whirlpool of thoughts would get hold of you, balancing precariously on top of one another. And as you’d lie on your neatly folded bed at nine thirty, you’d ponder about Jim.
All the other worries about work and paying taxes would vanish as you’d think about Caroline, the sun in Africa, and the travels Jim had taken you on during his long and detailed speech. And then you’d contemplate in your thoughts. “I must be dreaming. Was I really walking under the beating sun with Jim in the savanna?” But the next day, you’d forget about your ponderings. Grown-ups always do.
Written by Sofia Miglionico from Dresden, Germany
