Unveiling The Cross

preview; unveiling the cross …….You could not ask for a better place to contemplate creation’s beauty than to recline on a stone of Chetambe Hills and gaze at Mt. Elgon. It’s soothing, and it inspires introspection, just allowing the soft breeze to massage your skin as you listen to the music of the ‘mwarubaini’ trees […]

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unveiling the cross

preview; unveiling the cross

…….You could not ask for a better place to contemplate creation’s beauty than to recline on a stone of Chetambe Hills and gaze at Mt. Elgon. It’s soothing, and it inspires introspection, just allowing the soft breeze to massage your skin as you listen to the music of the ‘mwarubaini’ trees in the winds. The waves rise and fall, making music of their own, and they come from the distant horizon where the sun goes to sleep. Inside the carpeted forest, fishing nets are anchored in the waters of the shallow rivers running across the mountain. They sway rhythmically with the wind. Children with ostrich feathers tied around their waist stroll leisurely along the river, satisfied with fishing. Occasionally, they run around throwing mud at each other but never hurting anyone. Here is where people of different tribes are united be it in grief, joy or even to pass time. But it is not the voices of children that you hear, only the sounds of the natural world. It is restorative and you cannot have enough of it.
One could wonder how the hills of Mt. Elgon loved each other. Whether rich with grass or parched forest, they gently merged into each other giving a pregnant greyness on the cliff. It was a mountain of love story and song. Birds of every kind and butterflies in different stages of their metamorphosis met there to mate. Youths with hot blood in their veins amalgamated there to find their partner. But the paths up and down the mountain were themselves peculiar; they were winding, meandering paths. It is easily conducive for ambushing.
In those days, the long trees would be full of women with bundles of firewood tied up with banana rids simply balanced on their steady turbaned heads, carried so without touch of hand. Girls would set the bundle on top of their clean shaven heads,… @Wakoko2017,; comin soon……

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MY PANTS ARE WET

  PROLOGUE A torment of the flesh Comes with sinful pride Once had heavenly glory But all that is history May the day give way As I hurry to my lay For her art is sure gay A maiden without fray Ecstasy is what I desire I want it even for hire To devour it […]

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SHOES

On the mountain stands a lady Who she is I do not know. All she wears is silver and gold. All she needs is a new pair of shoes!

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New Woman

NEW WOMAN The silence of the apartment and the motionless perfection of objects that had remained just as he had left them months before, struck him with a sense of relief and desolation together, when he turned off the engine. The silence gave him an illusion of power; the sight of objects in the house […]

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