In this desert hush, where warm breeze gushes and dry leaves rustle, birds of different hue whistle unfamiliar tunes- quite different from where I hail from. Not like I’m lost but the thought of home makes my heart ache.
Wawa desert; where sun ceases not, yet calmed by the breeze. The trees sparsely erect with no leaves and the few dry leaves waiting to be shed by the next sweeping breeze.
The features of the goats are like those of an athlete: long legs and well-toned body. The Kanberi men, grazing their cows and sheep while the women and young girls shelled their harvested beans with jagged logs and their breasts popped out of their blouses with less regards for strangers like me. Here, no one seems to attach so much value to life. All they seem concerned about is a little penny to feed their homes.
I look forward to each morning, feeling elated that I would get another chance to savour the beauty of Wawa desert not only to see pectorals of different shapes but another chance to laud mother nature.
I sit on this weathered rock, carefully placed under this fig tree and the sun rays finding its ways. Within this desert, where the affluent are without water, and tranquility is broken by the sound of the gentle breeze, rustling leaves, singing birds and sometimes the whistles of a gentle storm. Here’s nature in its fullness, here i want to tag ‘the special place apart’.