SAMBA George walked into the dressing room to see Vickie and Nile looking busy. They seemed pretty engrossed tearing the bouquet note that they didn’t see her.
It was Vickie who was doing the shredding, so she hissed almost every time she tore more parts.
And Nile stood behind her all too speechless at everything.
Samba saw how quite worked up they were, so she went closer and peeped.
‘What are you doing now?’
‘Oh Ms George,’ jerked Nile. ‘We saw this small bouquet among our gift cards. Can you still remember who gave us please?’
Now the cute friends had no idea running through their heads that they’d easily take Samba as their player.
And again they’d known her quite longer than they should turn her doting care to a freak’s game now.
Yet Samba’s answer broke them down to pieces. And it wasn’t her that broke their hearts and trust.
‘Oh that flower,’ she answered. ‘We got it through a delivery man. He delivered it for Es & Em so I signed it on your behalf.’
‘They even sent it by delivery!’ spat a furious Nile.
‘And it’s just me the stranger wrote to,’ added the girl.
Then a small silence passed among the three.
Nile watched as their manager looked lost in the moment.
He tried to read her eyes as they ran like those trying to figure out computing language. So he felt double sure it wasn’t her.
Vickie herself wasn’t suspecting the old lady. She also wasn’t minding her at all.
In any case she was close to tears, so she closed her eyes. Then she sighed under her breath, ‘Where did we go wrong, God?’
Well, the Sand and Muse duo were a different kind of classical performers. They played music on platforms that belonged to the world, yet their creative process went so different.
Musical sound to them were worship in the words of the soul. They were expressions with no words. They were volumes of thought and no words to say them.
So when the kids poured out their lives in chords, their stories struck a chord in their listeners as the folks, too, poured themselves out several ways.
Still Nile and Vickie’s creative process was the spiritual kind...
And whether it was in their muse and inspiration, or it was in their perspirations onto stage lights, their forte had always been the spiritual.
For they were stars... they were shooting stars, only ’cause they were ministers.
So, now that Vickie wondered where they got things wrong, she started to blame their team for not keeping the prayer mood long after she’d joined her partner.
But they were barely grown, and staying still was a lot of work. So in spite of this thing, divine providence brought them good news.
Now the news Samba went in to give the duo was a royal summon from the two. It was a phone call from the palace of King Maqwela.
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