Nostalgia

I was raised by my people, yes by my people. We could be the last of them that know our Africa. Trained in the farm and trekking to school. Stealing the pears Fetching the wood. We were from the enclave of plenty. The King was my Father. There was no queen beside the immortal prince. Everything was green, every mammal was wild. But we were the kings of the rich ecosystem. We knew no fear, no snake or cat can dare the boys. Me and my brothers. The girls were equal, but not quite like us. The boys were few. We love the book because the school was ours. The ancestors we knew and God our hope. We wrestle we fight. Happy and naive while the enemies rage. But we are the princess of the enclave. Untouchable by birth……..The beginning of the reminiscences of HIM.

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