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Sometimes, when I watch Seru chase a butterfly or nuzzle up to a stranger, I wonder how different the world would be if we all lived with such openness. Seru, in his simple, joyful way, doesn’t understand hate. He doesn’t know what it means to judge another by the color of their skin, the language they speak, or the beliefs they hold. For him, every new face is a potential friend, every hand a source of comfort. But as I reflect on our own human history, I’m reminded of just how far we sometimes stray from that innocent wisdom.
In Seru My Love, there’s a chilling observation: “Lynching as a tactics is used by the members to attract their associates. They hate any mixing of races through marriage. They hate all those who talk in favour of black liberation. They cannot help themselves hating human rights groups and socialists. They live in hate and find peace in hate. Hate, hate and hate.”
Those words echo the darkest chapters of our past and, heartbreakingly, our present. Lynching—once a word, now a symbol of terror; was used not just as punishment, but as a spectacle, a rallying cry for those who thrived on division. It was a way to recruit, to bind people together through shared cruelty and fear. The message was clear: difference is dangerous, and anyone who stands for equality is an enemy.
What’s most haunting is the idea that some people “find peace in hate.” It’s a twisted kind of comfort, a false sense of belonging that comes from excluding others. For those caught in the grip of hate, it becomes a way of life; a lens through which they see the world, a shield against change, a substitute for love.
But Seru knows nothing of this. He doesn’t understand why anyone would choose hatred over happiness, or violence over play. His world is full of wagging tails and open hearts, not closed fists and angry words.
What if we tried to live a little more like Seru? What if we reached out instead of pushing away, listened instead of shouting, loved instead of fearing? The poison of hate is powerful, but it’s not inevitable. It is learned, and it can be unlearned.
Seru reminds us that peace isn’t found in hate. It’s found in kindness, curiosity, and the simple joy of being together; no matter how different we might seem. Maybe it’s time we let the animals teach us what it truly means to be human.