MY EXPERIENCE IN WARGADUD The sun begins to rise gradually, spilling golden rays of light over the soaring hills. A gentle breeze drifts through the lush bushes as flocks of birds emerge from its depths, performing spectacular aerial displays in the dazzling morning sky. Down below, the sleeping village, tucked away besides the hills, awakens to the beautiful Adhan as the muadhins call for Fajr prayers. Suddenly it is teeming with life as the villagers appear,welcoming the new day and attending to their daily morning chores and affairs. An old woman rides a grey donkey in the narrow, cobbled streets. Her brown, wrinkly skin sags on her frail frame-she is old and crippled yet her black eyes, bright and twinkling, are full of wisdom, joy and kindness .Behind her, a tall man with a long beard whistles whilst taking his reluctant sheep and goats to graze in the nearby pastures beside the lazy seasonal river. In the surrounding houses, people sit under shady dashkys,taking camel milk tea escoted by anjera and grandfathers engage themselves in dirty politics. As the day progresses however,the peaceful atmoshphere of the village is disturbed by the terrifying noises of landcruisers(cabel) ferrying khat(marduff) to Mandera. This place Warga,,,,Home sweet home. #PROUDLY WARGADUDIAN
Posted on: Thu, 20 Mar 2014 20:39:28 +0000
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