SWAMPY TALES

In the wee hours of a Thursday morning,  Kabwibwi  (no real name) and a group of anxious women wait for the helpless  Sensele  (no real name), a blameless boy who has been sick for months. Sensele’s condition has worsened after they inflict his skinny body with a round of tattoos with which a concoction of tree roots’ and leaves’ powder was administered to cure the ‘thing that crisscrossed his abdomen.’ A reasonable quantity of his remaining little blood from his anemic malady oozed out during the curing process making him weaker, earlier in the day. Shore in Bwalya Mponda- Lunga The entire village is on its tentacles waiting to hear the bad news about Sensele. He has been in this critical condition for days. Today, everyone who is adult enough to know the difference between life and death knows that Sensele’s days on earth are over. His uncle’s hut is burned accidentally at a fishing camp, a sure signal for a pending misfortune.   They are now waiting for his last breath. The wi