Tracing trails of my Afro comb until now. 

I’m reminiscing, no or am I just opening these sealed words on my scalp.The oldest memory I can trace of my existence is sitting on that warm floor.Somehow it feels warm in my memory despite cold walls that sheltered my life but prisoned my thoughts,can I even call it home really,I’m trying to? I was watching Mickey Mouse cartoons, they cemented my love for television and before I knew it I was watching it all day. 
Life in the village was very exciting, maybe it’s because I was quite young then. I was oblivious to much of the poverty, at least half of the population was poor, back then I didn’t have the means to grasp such a heavy reality. 

I did it all, running through graveled streets.ha ha ha!yes no tarred streets or even street names for that matter.The heat scorched the barren streets but that felt normal to me since it was all I knew. We would occasionally go herding every once in a while though mom and dad never had livestock,I would accompany the neighbor’s children on my streets.Friendship meant nothing more than hanging out with someone who helps make sense of it all by making it feel like home. 
My personal favourite place being the river,loved how my mind meandering with the twisting floodplain river banks, you should see them it summer…where blankets of mist come cover over the lush green that soften it’s extreme turns. Mom never liked me coming here,I don’t blame her.What I forgot to mention is it once teamed with crocodiles, yes Nile crocodiles to be exact.
 It’s called the ‘Luvuvhu river’ because it  thrived with pockets of hippo territories as the river flowed south,about a century back …so said my teacher from primary school.I saw all kinds animals, was that what sparked my love for nature…oh how I wonder. Okay I’m feeling tired now, I should be studying, I’ll continue some other time…well that’s if anyone reads this. 

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