As Ntanya looked down upon the village, his heart seemed to melt inside him. The trees seemed taller and darker in their mystery as they strained to assert themselves before the fading sun, and the smoke of evening supper coyly caressed the receding light on the hillsides. The middle of the bowl was now dark, and the orange colour offered itself warily only to the eastern corners of the village.
Ntanya breathed hard to fill his strong lungs with the cool village air which smelled, at least in memory, of mashed bananas in groundnut gravy. His heart was beating hard like a man driven to ecstasy by the beauty of a strange woman whom he is not sure whether to approach or not.
Even from where he stood, the village started to come to life; for the village was really alive only during the evening when everyone prepared for the death-life of the night. Cattle getting back to the village were starting to moo for their calves, and herdboys were yelling goodbye to each other, to keep away the fear of the night. Mothers would be busy with their pots trying to fill the bellies of their men, and specks of fire could be seen scattered all across the village.
Here and there an owl cried, bringing death to the unfortunate; Ntanya could hear in his mind's ear the subdued sob of the recipient of the message.
Written by Peter Palangyo-Tanzania.
Ntanya breathed hard to fill his strong lungs with the cool village air which smelled, at least in memory, of mashed bananas in groundnut gravy. His heart was beating hard like a man driven to ecstasy by the beauty of a strange woman whom he is not sure whether to approach or not.
Even from where he stood, the village started to come to life; for the village was really alive only during the evening when everyone prepared for the death-life of the night. Cattle getting back to the village were starting to moo for their calves, and herdboys were yelling goodbye to each other, to keep away the fear of the night. Mothers would be busy with their pots trying to fill the bellies of their men, and specks of fire could be seen scattered all across the village.
Here and there an owl cried, bringing death to the unfortunate; Ntanya could hear in his mind's ear the subdued sob of the recipient of the message.
Written by Peter Palangyo-Tanzania.
No comments:
Post a Comment