Today, as I was sitting with Edwin, we heard what I thought was distant thunder on a sunny morning. Edwin corrected my thinking explaining the noise was not thunder, but the voices of wild men. Intrigued, I pursued the subject.
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I have been to at least seven funerals in Menya over the last two years. Last week, on the day of one burial, a young man found the belongings of a teenager on the banks of the river. I was there when he first reported his discovery to a small group. They each immediately concluded “oh,…
Sights and sounds from a Menyan burial. (Click the play button above and be sure to turn HD on.)
Tom, Huckleberry and the whole gang.
We live on top of the world in Menyamya. When leaving, one is always going down. When returning, one is always coming up. Elevation and direction are irrelevant.