THE AFRICAN SONGBOOK
A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS
They moved through the shadows as if they were a whisper on the wind. There were six of them. The plantation truck they used for their journey through the Rift Valley safely hidden in the trees, they went the rest of the way on foot. They moved quick, cloaked in silence. A full moon flooded the distant hills and plain below with light, so that the tiny whitewashed walls of the farmhouse and enclosure stood out as though a blemish on the landscape. A dog barked in the distance, perhaps catching the scent of something sinister on the wind.
They stopped on a low rise, overlooking the farmhouse. The leader, a tall man dressed in rags - torn pants and buttonless shirt, his sandals made of old tractor tires and rope - looked at the others as he stood on the rise. Grabbing the long, tight-braided curls of his shoulder length ha…
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