The kitchen stood before her like an old poem with the hidden meaning.

When he approached the compound, she felt some warmth in her heart. She had ever felt that emotion before, whenever he came back from one of those long trips, either overseas or to the field. Dropped a few meters away from his compound by the bodaboda cyclist, he stooped on his feet walking. With the computer bag slanging his left shoulder, and his feet scooping and throwing the sand on his back with the speed to reach home and see the family he has missed for nearly a month.

That thing he gave us I still remember. Aunt also brought for us one day when she went to Kampala. Uncle Tom found us when we were playing in the bananas plantation. We were doing our search for Nsenene, the grasshopper which often rain in that period of September. We search and pick them from the folded leaves of the bananas, some from the ground. Those staying in the folded leaves stands while their head is facing down, their abdomen detached from their wings hanging loosely below; with their long behind limbs making them to stand firm on the leaves. Occasionally, they use their long limbs against the wing to produce sound, like that of the cricket.

The Nile water that year, having experienced one of those flooding that occurs once every twenty or thirty years from tears of sorrow since its creation, something which became legendary—something for fathers to talk to their sons about. Water from tears covered most of the land lying between the rivers of sorrows as well as the edge of the well stood land, where good houses stood with joy, and the good field became like island amidst the water. We sailed with small canoe in that new water when we had to see one another. Some time we see canoe sailing the water alone with strange air hissing out of it as if somebody shouting. There could be somebody inside—unseen; I thought. Maybe our world is changing, from a human world into a spiritual world.

These three were great friends, and they lived together in the community. One day the hare suggested that their mothers were too old to live so the best thing was to kill them by throwing them to sea. They all agreed, but the hare did not throw his mother into the sea. Instead, he looked for the mortar and pestle, and he covered it with bark cloth, pretending this was his mother.