The problem with God, the Cosmos, is that “it” simply does not behave the way that humans want it. Which is good. Because if it did, the cosmos would cease to exist. Nor do gorillas. If gorillas behaved like humans, they would cease to exist. Don’t play dumb. God, the Cosmos, is not human. Nor are gorillas.

A gorilla was killed in a zoo, in his compound, in Cincinnati, on May 28, 2016. What did he do? He behaved like a gorilla. A child fell into his space, his ecology, his compound. It was a 15-foot fall into shallow water. The gorilla climbed down into the water, held the boy, withdrew into a corner, put the boy behind him. Did he attack the boy? Did he bite the boy? Did he chide the boy? Did he grab the boy by the head, neck, stomach, any of his vulnerable parts? The boy, four years old, was distressed.

Next, the gorilla, Harambe, held the boy by his leg, dragged him swiftly and powerfully through the water to a concrete bank, ledge. Did he drag the boy’s head under the water? He lifted the boy onto his legs. Set him to stand up. Sorted him out. This was a defining moment. He had charge of the boy. He was intent on getting him up and sorted.

Then he leapt across the water again. A quick, rough move, and up onto the bank again. Same movement. The boy’s head did not go underwater. What was the gorilla doing? He was behaving strategically. He was moving from post to post, bank to bank, across the water, to get the boy up the wall, back on hard ground. It did this. He took the boy up the wall, on to high ground. He kept the boy between his legs.

When an adult gorilla keeps its child, to protect it, where does it keep it? Between the legs. A standing, covering, body-embracing gesture. The ultimate protective gesture. Was the action rough? Yes. Did he hurt the boy? No. If this was a child gorilla, the same weight, size, chances are, the gorilla would have behaved the same way. At the three points at which the gorilla got onto the ledge with the boy, he was always facing the onlookers, the distraught mother and others. He was defending.

So why was the gorilla killed? You could not, in all logic, blame the boy. Children, when they see a thing they want, water, a sno-cone vendor, a hole to climb through, can move in a flash. The boy saw water. He wanted to get into the water. He was on a mission. Water! He fell. That is how children, some of them, gorilla children too, are. They are like that. All parents know this.

Could we blame the mother? Not really. The boy saw water. He moved in a flash. It is impossible to predict this, to keep your eyes on your prized child every second. It happens to us all. The sudden, quick, “illogical” flash urges, passions of children. All parents have made these “mistakes”, taking their eyes away from bold, daring, single-minded little humans.

The critical moment occurred on the bank. When the two female gorillas in the compound were lured out, away. When the fire officers arrived with the zookeepers the gorilla was on the bank, with the boy between his legs. He had the boy. Chances are he was not going to easily give up the boy. He had saved the boy, brought him up. He may have been thinking, this is mine. My boy. This is mine.

Shooting and killing the gorilla was a deliberate act. The ‘experts’ claimed, afterwards, that the gorilla could crush a coconut with its bare hands? That the action was to protect the life of the human child. This sounds like US foreign policy formula: demonise to justify. The gorilla never used his hands like a coconut crusher. He was using its hands, according to the film footage, to save, recover, keep. Was the child being protected, or the name of the zoo? The fact that the compound was so exposed? That child could crawl in and reach danger so easily?

The problem was not that the gorilla wanted to injure the child; he wanted to protect the child. After his rescue mission. They were not dealing with a criminal. They were dealing with a protector, a keeper. The problem was to get the boy back, a delicate operation.

So this was the dilemma. A gorilla being a gorilla. He did not ask to be caged, shown off, for entertainment, information or money — and a distressed child, mother, public. Was the bullet the best way to solve this? The gorilla was not a predatory monster; he was a concerned, affected gorilla. The child was being a child; the mother had blinked at the wrong time. Everything now rested in the hands of the authorities. Tragically, they behaved, not strategically, but precipitously.

Gods, the Cosmos, like gorillas, are awesome. They possess their own inimitable bearing, effulgence, difference, majestic frame. The awesome and the terrible! We cannot always cope with this. We prefer to denature them, adore them like pets, in cages, safely tucked into our religious texts. To appear only when wanted. Thank God, God is invisible. Otherwise we would shoot “it”, to kill.

Dr Wayne Kublalsingh is a social activist. Send comments to the Observer or wbkubla@yahoo.com.