Tuesday, 15 April 2014

BENEATH THE AFRICAN SUNSET




From her hair to her feet, skin kissed by the African sun, the rounded woman from the land of the Sahara sits. Her legs, bathed in coco butter, full and gracefully positioned. Her waist elegantly holding her hips in position. Around it, with pure precision and gentleness, she has wrapped a Kanga, made of the natural resources from the Dark Continent, to cover the beautiful ones of its land. Her scalp properly cultivated like she does her land to bring forth food. Kinky, shiny and strong is her crown. Her arms gentle and loving but stout. Arms that work day and night to keep her family contented.  Her bosom, full and round, effortlessly rest on her chest, charmingly wrapped and generously hidden with a Leso. Her lips, thick and pouty, complete the beauty already evoked by her well-structured face. Her cheeks forming small round mountains when her heart is filled with elation, the basis of her smile.  In her hands, she holds a plateful of cassava potatoes, well prepared. Her health is vital. 

Looking at the horizon, the rolling grasslands, her broods play. Bursting with energy as they jump. Under the African Sun, they have no qualms. Each sundown they run to the fields with their eager legs. Their bare feet sinking into the warm African earth. They dance with the winds, and the clamor of their voices echo in the hills. Mama’s affection shines on them. They know after the screaming and dancing their stomachs will be treated to a whole meal wrapped with Mama’s warmth.

The cattle, a herd of them, emerge from the disappearing sun. Their beefy legs carry their heaviness. The bulls walk with an aura of leadership while the females are perky with milk in their tits. Behind them, sturdy, upright and barrel-chested, he follows. 

He walks with an atmosphere of direction. Besides him, his herd reminds him of his acquisition. He holds on to his ‘fimbo’, a sign of his authority, his headship in his family. His legs, robust and solid, confirming his physical affluence. His arms fit and defensive, a sign of his capability to shield his prized ones, his household. His mouth tamed and his words, when he speaks, are full of astuteness, reflecting the aptness of his understanding and his ability to lead not only his family but also the community.

The Community stands compacted under the evening sun. Smoke arises from the well mud-plastered huts. The women are busy preparing meals for their husbands and children. The men are returning the herds and joining to discuss dominant issues. The children dancing about, singing the songs of their ancestors. The day is over, breaking before a new dawn. Life under the African Sunset has no worries. 

Hakuna Matata.
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