Asari opened his eyes and listened to the blood pulsing in his ears. He gazed at the hanging gourds dangling idly on the blackened rafters, but his ears wandered far into obadama, the large clearing, where everyone must meet to welcome the dry season. 1/
In the distant Tshangu night, the tribe stood in silence, awaiting the dervish to finish his perfunctory recitals, the end of which would declare the Feast of Orsol open.
All held their breaths, watching him commune with the gods in deep guttural orisons. 2/ #LAPLoveNotes
The bonfire crackled and snapped, sending countless sparks of supplications to the starry sky.
The dervish sprinkled a token of ground native chalk into the fire, then a little air blown through his mouth, and then a paucity of water, too little to disturb the raging flames.