His African name is unpronounceable by my Oklahoma voice box, so he says it’s OK to call him “Coleman.” He says he respects Christians and enjoys their company, but he prefers the nature religion of his ancestors. He has intimate knowledge of every animal, plant and stone called to his attention. He loves and admires all the animals found in the bush except the Cape buffalo. In this case, he holds a grudge. Some years ago, his aunt and sister were following tracks, thinking they were on the trail of some wayward domestic cattle. They walked into a cornfield where a herd of Cape buffalo was resting unseen in the cool shade.

By the time the women realized the danger, it was too late. The buffalo charged. Coleman’s sister ran one way and his aunt another. His sister survived, his aunt did not. Coleman believes there are lessons with a wider importance below the surface of every human experience. He was raised here in the African bush and now makes his living guiding people who want to get beyond the inhabited areas and get a closer look at Africa’s exotic plants and animals.

He points out a tree that looks like a grotesque mistake of nature. This is the strangler fig. What we’re looking at here is a nightmare life and death struggle played out in extreme slow motion. Coleman says there’s a message in this. I suspect the strangler fig may have an alarming lesson for modern America.

The seed of the strangler fig is bird-dispersed and germinates in crevices of healthy tree bark. The seedling sends roots downward along the trunk of the host and sends branches upward to reach above the leaves of the host. Over time, the roots choke the host’s bark and roots and the branches starve the host’s leaves of sunlight. Ultimately, the host will be completely engulfed and it will die, leaving the strangler fig thriving on its remains.

I was thinking about the strangler fig when I read a story in this week’s news about a gradual encroachment on free speech rights here in the United States.

Now let’s be clear about something. Even if you exercise free speech, that doesn’t mean anyone has an obligation to listen. If your speech is stupid, crazy or offensive, you may have the right to say it, but others have a correlative right to tune you out, turn you off or walk away.

That means, of course, that if I want to spew out venom about any group — racial, political, ethnic, sexual, professional, religious, whatever — I’m free to vent those opinions. I don’t have a right to demand that you listen to my venom.

I’ve never watched a program called “South Park.” I guess it’s an animated program that appears regularly on Comedy Central. Personally, I find most advertising so insulting that I generally skip commercial television. It’s my right not to watch for any reason I want to. But an episode of “South Park” recently was scrubbed because some Muslim extremists threatened to resort to violence if the show aired.

We may be watching the nightmare growth of another type of strangler fig. Once a seedling of this type takes root in the fabric of this society, it eventually could choke all discourse that is deemed offensive by the most threatening bully. It’s now a fact of life that certain races, religions and other social groups are fair game for all manner of satirical, belittling and insulting comment. But some others may only be offended at the risk of deadly reprisal.

We’re seeing murders and bloody riots occurring in other parts of the world when critics dare to offend some of these bullies. We’re seeing writers and journalists being charged with crimes for writing “hateful” books and articles. We’re seeing statutes passed criminalizing heresy. But now, we’re seeing our countrymen intimidated by bullies who believe they have the right to pass judgment on what is religiously acceptable not just for themselves, but for all of us.

I guess it’s easy for me to say I wish the broadcasters had ignored these threats and gone on with their program. It wasn’t my neck on the line. Just the same, if we don’t speak up about it, some day it might be all our necks. Coleman’s right. There’s always more to these things than meets the eye.

I’m Hink and I’ll see ya.