At midday in the summer, Avenida Oriental — a central boulevard in Medellín — is usually congested in both directions. The sidewalks are crowded with street vendors, hawking food and clothing. Amidst the heat, drivers and pedestrians seek shade under the trees that form three long rows along the sides and down the center of this avenue, which is one of the main streets in the downtown core.
Twenty-three children make their way to school with their eyes glued to the murky water of the Nare River to see if they can see the hippopotamus. The school route has become a kind of safari with the kids scanning the horizon. Everyone in the municipality has a story to tell about the hippopotamus; that his feces scare away the fish, that he eats the banana crops, that his footprints are the size of three palms, that he will capsize a canoe... The Puerto Nare hippopotamus is all that’s talked about here. For Luis and his brother Diego, he is not a stranger. They call him Selmo. Their mother shakes her head and asks them not to get too attached because the judge has allowed just 60 days for the hippo to be removed from the vicinity.
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