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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419942" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At Olduvai Gorge</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some time had passed already<br>since we’d come down from the trees.<br>We still walked with an awkward gait<br>Sore backs and aching knees.<br>Lar still might be alive, old mother, <br>if he hadn’t pawed my mate.<br>When I saw him mount her<br>in the brush<br>All I felt was rage and hate.<br>The jawbone of an ass was near<br>I took it in my hands.<br>I brought it down upon his skull<br>I killed with these two hands.<br>I wouldn’t let the Jackals have<br>the body of my friend.<br>I covered up his corpse with stones.<br>this is where it ends.<br>As a tribe we are too small, too few.<br>to let the blood lust linger.<br>We must keep moving further north<br>until we are out of danger.<br>Old mother nodded sagely.<br>Lars clansman did the same.<br>I promised I would share the catch<br>with the children of his name.<br>Some book may talk of Abel-<br>that at Cain’s hand he died.<br>but it was the tribe of Lucy<br>that first committed Hominidicide</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A tale of the first Hominid population at Olduvai gorge, Africa and the first murder. It was over a woman. It would not be the last. ( I have translated this from the original Bushman clic language)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+F.+McCullagh">John F. McCullagh</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419942" data-title="At Olduvai Gorge de John F. McCullagh" data-description="Some time had passed already
since we’d come down from the trees.
We still walked with an awkward gait
Sore backs and aching knees.
Lar still might be alive, old mother, 
if he hadn’t pawed my mate.
When I saw him mount her
in the brush
All I ..."></div>
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