Edna Ninsiima It has been 3 weeks since the prophet, on the day before the little ones did the final round of their first hope to one day advance to the hill, called an anxious gathering and only further diminished their expectations. The little ones who hope to make it to the hill would still be examined the next day, the elder ones who are almost at the finish line would be sent packing, patients would begin paying the price as the many practicing life savers were now scarce, applicants’ wish choices would hang in balance, celebration plans for the victors would come to a halt and I, would fervently pray that I can be able to acquire my proof-of-first-stage-completion documents so as to apply to advanced learning. Now, our rogue famine-combating relatives have devised a plan, albeit a tad bit crazy, has given hope to some. So we await the plan’s execution and hope that it will not do more harm than good- which it probably will. Still we hope.
Many of our own have been sent to their eternal sleep. One for bruising another’s possession, the other 2: 1 for aiding justice and 1 for being a humble servant of the former. A right place at the wrong time story and a clear indication that cleaners don’t like to leave any traces of dirt. Justice seems to be taking course for the former incident at which we were outraged; for the latter, we’ve had not so much rage to put out as we’re still sharing jokes about spells and portions.
On the sabbath was a blood bath from a brewing wrath and now my home is awash with fear and speculation and paranoia some say. Except this paranoia becomes less of a delusion and gravitates to reality the more we see the still image digital archives of a parade of nude anatomy shells, bound by the hands, on the ground. Our homing pigeons from which we’re to get the unbiased message have not flown far enough; probably because they have been shown a specific route from which they must not deviate or they just would rather not agitate the master lest they face disciplinary action for learning the habits of parrots. As a result, we remain in the dark about the factuality and hold onto an unwavering faith that home shall be in order again.
Faith is all we have left, after all it is this faith that moves mountains, isn’t it?
