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.
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