John H. Burkitt:

With stirred emotions I watched the pagentry and color that was The Lion King. Secretly I harbored the desire to meet these characters, to lavish upon them in person the great love I felt inside and share the joy that lit my countenance.

My wish was granted here in The Chronicles. I have lived for a moment in the company of great lives and experienced through my pen their triumphs and tragedies. Humbly, I submit this work, holding it up on the pinnacle of Pride Rock. Behold my son, for it truly is my son, and the end of the writing process is a form of saying farewell. Asante sana!

July 15, 1996, Nashville, Tennessee

David A. Morris:

Back in late 1994 when I first saw The Lion King, the effect it had upon me was astounding. Never before or since have I been so totally captivated by a story like this. The magic, the splendor, the wonder of it all swept me away.

Within this work, I was presented with the opportunity to give something back to it, to express with the written word my love for a story which has deeply affected me in so many ways. The paternal guidance of Mufasa, the wisdom of Rafiki, and the selfless friendship of Simba all have made a significant impact on my life, and so I set out to return a little of the magic, and maybe learn something about myself along the way.

And once again, I got more than I bargained for.

July 15, 1996, Wilmington, North Carolin

The early morning sun reflected in Queen Akase’s eyes. King Ahadi looked into their fire and whispered the word “beloved.” She smiled and nuzzled him, then kissed her new twin sons as if the four of them were alone in a private kingdom of love.

But they were not alone. Next to them Shaka, the King’s brother, his wife Avina, and their twin daughters Sarabi and Elanna welcomed in the dawn. And spread out across the plain in their tribes were the works of Aiheu the Beautiful in all their splendor—the solemn elephants, the tall giraffes, the lithe zebras with stripes more joyous than the brightest bird. Side by side they stood, rank on rank, row on row. And never was the fang shown, nor the claw bared. They had come to celebrate the mystery of life through the presentation of the new Prince. For that one day, death did not walk among them.

Through the gathered hosts walked Makedde, the mandrill. Those near him drew back and cleared the way. He blessed them with signs of Aiheu’s love, touching the very young with outstretched fingers, and also the very old.

Makedde forded the boulders that protected the base of Pride Rock, a warm shaft of stone whose sheltering arms protected lions from the uncertainties of night. Up, up the winding trail he climbed until he reached the promontory of stone where destiny awaited. As the world held its breath, Makedde approached the two sons of Akase. Ahadi lay his paw on small Mufasa and nodded gravely.

“I touch your mane, ” Makedde said with deep respect. “Incosi aka Incosi, Great King.” He sprinkled Mufasa with powdered Alba and anointed his brow with Chrisum. Then he picked up the small golden treasure and held him up. A shaft of light broke through the morning clouds and lit the cub like a kiss of joy. A child born of love who had known nothing but love in his short life looked over the admiring throng. Through the shouts, through the clamor of the transformed crowd a voice of sweetness whispered through the light, “Makedde, will you protect him?”

“With your help, Aiheu, I will not fail.”

Below, the crowd in respect and awe felt the presence of God, and they fell to the ground bowing, scraping and calling in their own tongues the words of worship each according to their own belief. But Makedde did not hear them. Taking the tender baby to his arms, he kissed him. “May the wind blow kindly on you. May the sun shine brightly on you. May the gods take you to their heart.” A tear of joy ran down his face.

Reluctantly, he lay the cub down by Akase. Small Taka looked up expectantly, his eyes full of innocent curiosity. With a smile, but some regret, Makedde cuddled the cub under the chin and felt the hum of his happy purr. “This will be the wise one, ” Makedde whispered. “He would have made a great king.”

Ahadi loved to play with his young sons. But he also took time to see to their education. Some lessons were naturally fun--like stalking and pouncing. Others were less fun, but equally important.

Mufasa was always good at stalking and pouncing, and he held his own wrestling with his brother Taka whom he almost always beat. But Taka could listen to hours of the Chronicles of the Kings and the Law of the Pride while Mufasa would start to squirm and follow the distant herds with his eyes.

Ahadi found Taka a thirsty sponge, and flattered by the rapt attention he got, he drew on all the learning of a lifetime and told him many wonderful and strange things on the inspiring setting of the promontory.

“The words of wisdom are sometimes hardest to hear, ” Ahadi said. “N’ga and Sufa, the sons of Ramalah ignored their father’s teachings, and it would bring them to grief. For a father teaches out of love, and to reject his teachings is to refuse his love. It’s the same with us, my sons. I would not have you come to grief....” Ahadi paused, glanced at Mufasa who was wrapped up in his own daydream, winked at Taka, and kept right on going in the same voice. “And it was in this time that a certain lion cub watched the plains for wildebeests, dreaming of the day when he would have no more lessons to learn. And doing so, he stuffed his head with dead grass instead of knowledge.” He added with some emphasis: “Isn’t that so, Mufasa??”