The Beat

Africa would always be there - deep in the heart.  How I longed for the african skyline.  The  beat of Africa was always there, and like a drum, it contined to beat on and on.  Repetitively, and in synchronisation with the calling of the african bird.  The stories of Africa were many - they held their own weight and value.  The common story of an african experience was one of, well, tragedy.  With the full sun, heat and bliss of a life lived closely co-existing with nature... came a familiarity with sacrifice and heartache.  A stone tossed into the water, in Africa, would alert ceaseless ripples.  A ripple that served as a catalyst for a never-ending ripple.  Something magical and enigmatic lay at the very epicentre of Africa.

Leon spoke of the African Boy

Leon always knew what to say and in a very particular way.  He played with the others on the playground and rode bikes.  Leon enjoyed almost all things that other children did and yet when it came to storytelling - they all knew he was the king.

         And so Leon thought of a story to share which was about 'the african boy.'  Everyone loved this one, especially Pearl who sat next to him in English class.  She had a favourite pencil with red polka dots on it and she would twist it in her mouth as she said to Leon, 'Tell me again about the african boy.'

Her eyes would sparkle and her mouth curled at the corners while she listened.

Pearl had the prettiest freckles and shiny hair. 

        Leon's story went on, 'the small-framed african boy who walked by the river every day, twice a day, went by the river on a particular day.  It was mid-week, early in the morning and not many others were about at this time.  As he went, he looked high into the skies and searched the heavens.  He could predict the weather, not far into the future, but on the day.  Early in the morning, for some strange reason only when he stood by the river, he could look into the blue air and see something else that was not yet there.  How he had grown accustomed to seeing the same skies on his walks by the river day after day.

       Even when the weather patterns were not monotonous, he could tell what the day ahead held.  Today, he raised his large brown eyes into the sky and stopped for a moment in his tracks.

      'Uh-huh,' he commented.  He stood for awhile.  A fish commotioned in the water and the ripple effect spread.  His gaze remained steady.  Sipho had already walked for miles and had a long journey yet ahead of him.  The sky never changed and it looked clear to the normal eye. 

      'Mmmmm,' he said with a frown and uncertainty. 

Whenever others heard this story, they would ask Leon with frustration, 'What was Sipho thinking? Oh tell us Leon, don't make us wait,' but Leon would calmly tell them that the next instalment would only be due on another day.

The 'wordy' boy

The forest masked the house but nothing covered what went on inside.

The little boy sat perched on the edge of the couch as he watched the box in front of him intently.  His gaze fixed ahead of him, he paused momentarily to twitch. 

He was one of the most beautiful boys around.  His short brown hair sat neatly cropped on the top of his small head.  Leon was full of tact.  He carefully selected every word that came from his mouth.  They were like handpicked sweets and most of the time medicinal to the hearer.

Sometimes others would ask him, 'Leon, where did you find such a word like that?'  He was full of unique and interesting words that spilled from his mouth and brought the dictionary to life!  It always had to be the right word.

An African Boy...

Sipho walked to the edge of the river every day on the way to work. He walked slowly, biding his time, and rellishing in the surrounds of nature. His bare feet felt the grass tickling them underneath as he went. At times he would stop to dip his one foot in the river.

Cool and refreshing, it wettened his foot.

Sipho loved to pick up sticks en route... he would drag them along the ground and could hear the sound of the dragging stick through the grass and the earth. The early mornings were starlingly quiet and every sound was magnified. Most mornings there was a particular orange fish that would spring high out of the water and back in again. Its shiny, moist orange coat glistened in the radiance of the sun. By this time, the sun was already very high in the sky and shone with great intent. The purpose of this sun began in the very first moments of the break of dawn. Sipho squinted into the yellow-gold ball and raised a hand to cover one eye. The brightness captured him and held his gaze without relent. Again, Sipho picked up his stick and motioned forwards along the bank of the river. He wasn't like the other boys who loved to throw stones at the fish and never quite enjoyed walking along the bank of the river as much as he did. The river glistened, it shone and it moved in its own way and in its own timing. Slowly and regularly it continued to trickle and trickle and trickle. On it went, down the bank, with purpose and direction.

Sipho walked, shirtless, and with only one pair of shorts hanging loosely on his skinny limbs. His belly button was visible just above his brown shorts and was turned outwards. He used to think he could pop it back into his stomach - to look like the other boys. He was the only one in the district with a belly button that popped outwards. The other boys would laugh uncontrollably at him. Sipho shrugged, shook his head and headed for the river...

Sipho's mother loved him tenderly and with great depth. She would tell him the longest tales about his belly button... and how it came to be that way. He would laugh himself when she would tell him such tall tales of his bellybutton. Sipho laughed as he walked along and thought of it.