Somewhere on the Eastern coast of Africa , is a small collage of tribes. A small community called Kenya
Every day they turn to their gods and beseech them to send their way a situation that will cause them to take out their drums, raise their voices and kick up clouds of dust in frenzy. Like hawks over a party they hover over anything that has a touch of controversy and swoop in on it with unmatched gusto. Watching them in play, you would have no doubt their lives depended on it.
A few months ago, a number of their elders crossed the sea for an orientation ceremony for six in their rank in a white man’s court. In their absence and subsequent to their return, the community became consumed to a point of obsession with the issue. They forgot about their stomachs and their bare backs constantly beaten down by the cold, all that mattered was the chance to fill the empty space with anarchy and chaos. Then things went quiet and it was back to sitting out in the sun waiting.
Today, their gods, ever so faithful, have smiled down upon them again. They went out in search of a medicine man to mediate in their disputes and came back with one adorning a woman’s ornament on his ear. What could be more tragic?
Just imagine, what if a splinter of the thorn they used to make the piercing made its way into his ear? It could have lodged itself somewhere inside his head slowly blowing out the air from his brain! Of what good will he be running such risks?
Even worse, the gods may decide to strike him with lightning to measure his worth and that little piece of metal could have him fried. The gods would then turn to the people in anger for offering up to them a medicine man who could not stand a test of character.
Yes, it is time for the people of Kenya
