His life was a wire. A rusted copper wire heaped on the outskirts of Sigwembe village market. Rusted and twisted, no different from the humdrum life of muffled voices. The village had stopped talking, stopped farming, stopped dancing. And even though worms wriggled out of decaying sons discarded on the narrow footpaths, mothers had stopped mourning. Fathers sat on the broad Makhamia lutea leaves spread on earth. They had stopped talking about burials. Let the earth drink their blood. Let the brown earth swallow their sons. Joseph leaned on waist-length thrushes that formed a hedge around his hut. It was early morning. The sun’s smile was that of a genial father, and with every widening of the mouth, blades of grass lost moisture to thirsty air. He lowered his trousers and squatted to give back to the earth what he had borrowed. Ants circled his heels and edged closer to have a bite. One bite, two bites, three bites, four bites – rapacious ants! Sharon Moragwa Ogugu Julz Amare Poeta Namatsi Lukoye Ngartia J Bryan Oluoch Madiang Ibrahim Oroni Kyansimire Oroni Oduor Jagero-Koa Shedy Serem Kevin Orato
Posted on: Thu, 06 Jun 2013 04:22:00 +0000
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