The following is a creative non-fiction piece written by Ian Seth Levine, a South Carolina Volunteer.
Dear Journal,
In my travels, I have met two types of people. Some people dressed as animals, with their fur coats and leather shoes and ivory buttons and wool trousers and silk neckties.
And then there were the animals that dressed as people. I first met those ‘people’ when I witnessed the Battle of Solferino. Vignettes of ruddy bayonets piercing through my mind, I became obsessed with the idea there should be an international committee that endeavors to prevent human suffering.
However, I became so singularly consumed with ensuring other people’s good and welfare; I lost control of my brainchild, my finances, myself. And so, on this twenty-third day of May, in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and seventy-one, I sit in solitude, penniless, amongst the wilderness, and prefer it that way.
Why? At least here, animals look like animals.
In my time here, I observed a strange species of ant, Formicoxenini. A pregnant queen from another colony was kidnapped and held hostage. She was then forced to give birth inside the hostile colony’s nest. The queen’s innocent larvae, unknowingly born into the enemy colony, ultimately grew up to kidnap and hold hostage another pregnant queen.
As I watched the ants, I thought of Switzerland’s verdingkinder, and my unheard calls for abolishing slavery. I remembered how America only began abolishing Her slavery just a few years ago, a sip of honeyed Hemlock tea.
Then, amid the sweetwater after a storm, I spotted a queer species of dragonfly, Pantala flavescens. This species would endure an eleven-thousand-mile journey in search of a homeland.
Except, one insect could not live long enough to survive its birthright. So, instead, the same flight was traveled by multiple generations.
As I watched the nomadic dragonfly take off once again, I thought about the Jewish diaspora and my unheeded discourse to establish a homeland for them. A down-and-out Welshman once taught me a word from his native tongue, “hiraeth.”
He said to combine the grief of losing a loved one with the yearning from missing home. Perhaps if I feel hiraeth, some Jewish people do, too.
While in a daze of hiraeth, I caught sight of Cynomys leucurus. These prairie dogs stampeded unto squirrels like buffalo unto the plains, chewed through their necks, and ran away gayly.
They had no interest whatever in using the carcasses. It was murder for nothing more than a surplus of resources, some extra flowers.
I could not help but think about global trade and my neglected cries for international arbitration. Alas, in my travels, I have met two types of animals. Some animals invaded, kidnapped, enslaved, pillaged, and murdered. And then there were the animals that acted like people.
Pygmy Chimpanzees live such a meaningful life that even in the face of dire conflict they still would rather donate to their neighbor chimpanzees than go to war. It is the Pygmy Chimpanzee, and animals like it, that make me hopeful for my—our—future.
Sincerely,
Jean-Henri Dunant