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Pasabue stood in front of the gathering of Moi believers. His hands were shaking. His brow beaded with sweat. His eyes darted nervously over the crowd and settled again on the words he held in his hands.

A Mengen tribal man sits on his porch to catch the evening breeze and contemplate the day’s events. Soon, tree frogs mingled with the sound of crickets, break the silence.  He hears angry shouts as villagers argue over some event.  Somewhere in the darkness, other tribal men are playing their kundu drums and singing to […]

Batsun was left to die, but now he shares life giving words.