By Akut Francis

(In the month of April)

Sitting at the bonfire as the flames do their elaborate dances to silent music only they can hear. The sparks fly into Juba’s midsummer sky for their short minute of glory, then plummet back to the Earth and disappear. The wood performs an art show with its orange burning embers. As we humans take all this for granted and call it just April’s bonfire.

Meanwhile the wind on its course, set by some unseen navigator, gently caressed the trees of our home as it ambled on secretly. It seemed to hint that it was only a foretaste of April month’s impending holocaust or wet storm which was in preparation for the great beginning of its oppressive tyranny.

As the blackened sky turned cold from seemingly nowhere, a giant monstrosity, like a judge, clothed in deep blackness, stepped onto the heavenly stage. The moon cowered as it was drawn away and imprisoned behind doors and walls of darkness, enveloping its light, cutting it off from our world below.

An eeriness brooded over the Earth as our Gudele night grew restless. The slamming of doors and the latching of windows could be heard, almost in spontaneous chorus, for we knew what was coming, April. Lightning tore across the sky, seeking to bring ruin on the tallest, unlucky victim it could find in its brief but relentless mission.

A low, heavy rolling sound prevailed over the Jebel Kujur Mountaintop, dissipation was ordered. Plants of all shapes, sizes and ‘walks’ of life were crumpled under the heavy blows of the nefarious sandflakes and beaten to a pulp.

The grass thatched roofs in ‘New Side’ curled in like foil, exposing all they had to protect. The ignorant animals in the fields were not even found innocent, disintegrating under the ceaseless shelling of damning but silent thunder and lightning.

So, we may, in May, find the fairest judgment together with our shine rustless nomadic sun, and flee once again to roam the skies and heal the broken land with its warmth daily sojourn – as it direct the path of the shine to caress our crops and trees, again.


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