It seems that everything in Africa has rythm. The steady pulse of the incessant chatterof the women and children. The pounding of kasawa. The chopping of wood for fire.
It is a hum that seems to awaken in me once in a while. They sing a lot. While working, while cooking even when mourning the africans sing.To me it is the pulse of life. When I feel it I want to dance. I want to sing too. Sometimes I even want to cry.
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