Growing Up the Past Runs Deep

GROWING UP THE PAST RUNS DEEP Growing up in the village.. days before electricity arrived when i used a kerosin lamp.. as i browsed through volumes.. volumes of literature.. Till my eyes would turn dry.. and i would feel dizzy... for not changing my reading poster screaming nerves accussing mi.. i stood accussed of abuse by my own senses.. Sweet sleep would fall over me.. the novel dropping.. from mines limb hands dreaming of strange lands.. Oh the joy of addiction.. i was hooked to good stories Evading peers to catch up on a book.. didnt i love escapism negleting schoo work... now thts dumb.. negleting sports and exercises wasnt i hooked the past is deep i spent a lot of time.. reading make believe stories Moving to the east coast town.. after finishing forth... i fell in love with movies and became an enemy of the books a great movie i watched.. robbed of my immagination Rushing over meals running to catch a new movie my brother michael... sneezing allrgies of the polluted cities.. i was missing village life.. Strange swahili culture.. christian, muslims, arabs africans strange foreigners,, i have this- against them most of them didnt seem to love clothes.. yet the others covered to their eyes.. Mwadhini calling the faithful to prayer christians holding week long crusades.. here the battle was for souls or was it the offerings strange swahili culture.. drinking strange palm wine.. such was the life at the coast New friends trying to revert me to islam.. elders remmindim me not to forfeit.. the wisdom of our people.. borrowed clothes dont fit well.. and customs and traditions.. are the mirror of society.. No where were my beliefs challenged more.. they called me almukafirun... i retaliated youre a zailim.. didnt we love the enlightening debate softening of stands.. proponent and opponent reached common ground... The bond of friendship and culture breakin down- them cultural religios barriers friends and gal friends from all religions people at the coast are very freindly and salaams greetings a way of life.. Stories of jinn and black majic we knew not to give much- credence.. there of the disbelivers we believed in the onness of the supreme.. debated on tenacles of faith.. for the bond of love runs deep and the past is deep.. by lewis k nyaga