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MUSTARD II – Ch. 6 | KT OLLA

THE talk that Morrow had just got back alive from the Whiteman’s war, was the thing that filled his whole community.

People began to walk towards his house in twos and threes to check on him and say hello.

The man had brushed and was spending the time sun-gazing. He’d also left the chewing stick back inside.

He looked in the thinning haze and he could see the neighbours nearing.

Yes, they walked in pairs and in small groups; still they were going all at once. As though they went from the same home.

Morrow looked at them and he could still recognise their faces. People from his street and across it. Someone from this place and that.

Yet the whole community were going together to him. Like they had something else to say.

No, the middle-aged man didn’t feel comfortable.

Now when those guests reached him, they got there together, too—and they acted loads.

‘Ha, who am I seeing now? Isn’t this—?’

‘God be praised! It is him; it isn’t his brother. It is you my good friend; I’ve felt—!’

‘Yes, we felt your brothers were just cleaning last night. Then something told me, “That is your friend! Go check tomorrow!”’

‘Yes Moro, welcome home! Your wife and kids have been waiting!’

Now the war returnee wore smiles hearing those words; yet he told himself he wasn’t letting them in.

So he beamed wide. ‘It is I, Moro. It is I, my people! And thank you for coming to check on me.

‘Now could you just bear with me please? We tumbled down the house last night I could’ve hosted you!

‘But how can I keep you in the cold now—thank you loads for coming!’

The people grumbled.

‘Oh well....’

‘Well, is that so?’

‘Well, that’s all right.’

Now the man’s answer told his neighbours that they’d got nothing left taking there...

That honour required them to leave at once.

So they grumbled words, those reverent words, to help save face.

It was the bliss before the storm.

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