We search in vain for the home we lost. The majestic landscape that was trampled by White traitors, carrying nothing but bibles and the language to change us, remains the stoic evidence of the unspeakable damage, that continues to permeate with resounding rage.
The smoke-filled air of swirling akara and puff puff are the treasures that leave a scent that can’t be washed away with the admission into lands far away —…
