wisdom
When I sit in the wild, I do not sit alone. The wind, the trees, the calls of birds, they all keep me company. And in their voices, I hear the echoes of our elders, those who walked this African soil before us and left stories to guide our way. In the season of rains, when thunder rolls like great drums across the sky, the elders would say: “Africa is waking, the warriors are beating their shields to call forth life.” And when the first drops kiss the dust, I feel her awakening, the scent of wet earth rising, the grass stretching, the wild perfume of sage and crushed leaves. These are not just sounds and smells to me; they are my heartbeat, my
spirit refreshed, as if Africa herself is breathing through me. When the floods come, spilling across the Delta, the elders told us: “The rivers are the arms of Africa, mothers reaching out to feed her children.” And indeed, I see the red lechwe leaping, the fish glittering, and the birds returning. In those moments, Africa feels like an endless table of abundance, feeding not only her creatures but also the souls of anyone who walks her land. Then winter settles, quiet and golden. The mornings are cold, the nights long, and patience fills the air. The elders said: “Africa never dies; she only rests.” In that stillness,
Previous spread Change is ever present in light, colour, and the ebb and flow of seasons. Left Tops’ deep connection to and respect for the land have been shaped over a lifetime.
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