From The Travel Journal: Transit Between ‘This’ Halfway

The ride in this roofless bus with these cool fellow corp member was exhilarating. There was much laughter and bonding. We were tired but our faces shimmer in the evening twilight and glitter against the red sun. On the iron guard we rested our heads satisfied. We talked, sang the anthem of unity and service. Oh there was worry. It was getting dark, and the condition at the back of a roofless lorry naturally looked worrisome. There, a friend of ours was saying prayers, waving away with some churchy gesture something he called evil witches that sucks blood on the highway. Of course we said our Amens.
The breeze was contained with smiles. The fragrance from the pile of dried elephant grass was tasty and mouth watering. It burned right through our dried throat. But it ended too soon. It was going somewhere we couldn’t follow. We were boarded. Our paths led different ways. We greeted each other with little enthusiasm now and we each said our goodbye and safe trip to these unknown destinations because we were not yet home.

Ehindola Peter

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