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| A shot from Lodwar where a different climatic condition exhibits. A moon cycle is rarely followed by a shower of rain. The nights are always clear. Tat may be why gods and practises varied through villages. |
I did not expect the moon in the
skies of Nairobi. For some period now with the trust of my eye I have come to
semi-learn that after a full moon there will be a day of darkness or two before
the satellite resumes its journey of waning- rising in the East and setting
in the West smaller.
Let me assume that our moon discussions have made us learn
one thing or two. Whether the moon rises in the East or West, it will always
set in the West. This is the effect of the rotation of the Eath on its axis.
The moon is forever a statue round-the-Earth in the heavens only overruled by the sunny sun. To
make it true as wished, the clouds that have been gathering through its cycle decided to
precipitate and there the soil was warming my healing soul by its smell…I am
the son of soil. If there are any bedbugs I carried, I prayed each drop of rain
killed an egg stuck on the clothes at the wire line.
In the other land, where clouds
are as rare as a ripe corn during the weeding season, sons of soil enjoyed the full moon for the second day- Kenamkemer in Lodwar. It happens that different places (villages) have
different calendars. I am yet to zoom in the picture and observe whether the
moon started to show waning signs. There my dream was born.
But before the dream I should
talk of the book I finished reading in the day. It relates. Zipporah by Melik is the book; an oral
tradition dated over 3000 years ago. It has some information that Bible
writers, greatly inspired by the Holy Spirit could not include in the 66 books.
She dreamt Moses and what came of him. Zipporah gave life to Moses, the first
Messsiah. She challenged him, she gave him sex and she gave him a home. The
paternalistic nature of the Bible is a doing of a few males. When Zipporah
spoke, Moses listened. The attack of Leprosy on Miriam was one of the side
effects the white Hebrews mistreatment to the Cushitic dark girl. I love her
contributions and hate the end of her life- so tragic. It reflected the poem Unheeded Tears by Freeman Peter Lamba.
Both are featured in the dream.
The secret of goods dreams is a
day well spent, less anxious of tomorrow and a bed so in love with- clean and
big for any sleep posture, silent room, well spread, mosquito and bedbug free.
I do not need sleeping music but to tune my mind to the moment of day. I took a
sip of carbon with triple Hydrogen bonds for the sake of the stomach. Bye
world.
I was seeing the moon. With more lovingness
as I saw it in the camera, the upper side of the moon had started to wane.
Beautiful- things were happening as expected. I was happy. But I was on the way
to a burial ceremony. One of the children- a secondary school girl child
supported by Heart to Heart- had died. I attended the burial ceremony full of a weeping heart.
She was adopted by a man with a
spooky nose and determined farmer though his land was only of
bushes and grass. I never witnessed the burial rights but I went straight to
the grave. There it was only done by a shallow layer of soil on top. The soil
was supported by weak woods that when I stepped on the grave they cracked
letting in some soil that went deep into the grave- it was past 6ft normal
grave size. It looked like the toilets that we once dug at rural home.
With the crack sound, the farmer
hurried to save me from dropping in the grave. I looked and imagined the casket
inside. As he helped me hop away, I propelled mysef to fall away and safe. He
warned me of my actions. A few eyes were looking. And so I wanted to know more.
He was near the grave kinda
trimming the fence (facing his back on my side) when I saw other graves. I asked him whom they were for and
he said that all his children died. Three graves were to the right of the new
grave and two graves on the left. Only one child is left- a dumb and water-head
fellow. Can we say a disadvantaged one? He seemed weak in his talk. I asked him
about his wife and he said that she died too. I asked him if his heart felt ‘vovereli’ (Maragoli word for too much
sadness in the heart). I was feeling to cry with him but he looked strong in
his words. I only saw the bare foot with his trouser a bit made not to be
stepped on. His feet were clean as a white man’s.
Just then a lady came from
nowhere to comfort and answer some of my questions. But she ruled the
discussion as we sat on the path not really under a tree as I can recall. One
man passed by and I was not very comfortable him seeing how we talked and sat. She was
vividly describing something that included rubbing in between my legs. Some
boys happened to be talking around (there is something I have forgot here).
A child came by to tell me that I
was getting late. The mother was waiting for me. The child is Benjamin and the
mother is Nduta. They do not relate in real life. The child is Heart to Heart
beneficiary and Nduta a bookshop owner in Kawangware. I woke up.
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