The worn hands of Africa

The oldest in the IK community supported his hands on a cane, In the lost hills of northern Uganda. And that fell held all the indigenous inheritance of his people, He held the tired step of a man accustomed to tribal wars. And time, that in Africa it happens more slowly, is wrinkling those hands that previously launched, maybe, to his enemies of South Sudan, or to the lions that attacked the flock. Or maybe that old man and those hands never supported a weapon, they are just the result of a life in the field, far from the rest of the world that is already enough.