In 1988, I read an extraordinary story in the New York Times by Peter Walshe. He recounted the life story of a remarkable young man called Andy MacDonald who lived in the small town of Plumtree in what was then Rhodesia. The author was a friend who had been on Andy's high school Rugby team and it appeared that Andy had been the town's "Golden Boy". Strong and confident, he had played International rugby for South Africa. He gained fame while farming in Zambia when he killed a lion with his bare hands. He survived that terrible attack, but was murdered by a group of dissidents who were intent on destabalizing the regime. The image I had of this story was so compelling that I felt the need to record it and the emotions I felt of such a random and unnecessary death.