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STORY TIME: A magical trip
Omar and Sara had completed their homework, and were playing outside in the garden. They helter-skeltered in between the bushes and shrubs, and rolled on the grassy lawn. “Ouch!” cried out Sara, picking up a dark-coloured object that had poked her as she somersaulted. She examined it. It was a funny shaped, dapple-grey stone. As she held it in her hand, it emitted an eerie glow.
“Hey, it looks just like the magic stone I saw in my dream last night!” Exclaimed ten-year-old Omar, all agog with excitement.
He then related the dream to his younger sister who listened attentively, as she sat there, clutching the stone in her hand. Omar had dreamt that he found a magic stone that would take him anywhere he wished, provided he recite the magic words.
“But do you remember those words?” asked eight-year-old Sara, a little fearfully. She knew how terrible her brother’s memory was. But, luckily, this time Omar did remember.
“First, let’s decide on where to go, Sara. What about Kenya?” suggested Omar, and he looked at his watch. “We’ll be back before dinner time. I’m sure the magic stone will see to that.”
With bated breath, the brother and sister joined hands, and Omar placed the stone on the palm of his right hand, as he recited: “O Magic Stone, do your trick.....do it quick, in a flick!”
Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light teamed with a puff of smoke, and whoosh, the two youngsters found themselves standing at the foot of the Kenyatta International Conference Centre in Nairobi, the capital city of Kenya.
Sara shaded her eyes from the golden sunshine and looked up in wonder at the tall building, which had been named after the Father of the Nation, Mzee Jomo Kenyatta.
“Wow, we really have landed up in Africa!” exclaimed Omar, in amazement. At last, an African safari! He knew a lot about the national parks, and the enchanting seaside resort of Mombasa, a haven for tourists from all over the world.
With eyes wide and mouths open, the astonished duo mingled with the tourist crowds. As they strolled down the avenue, they saw souvenir shops displaying exquisite African art, ranging from carved wooden sculptures to intricate semi-precious jewellery. Sara wished she could buy a malachite bangle, but she didn’t have a penny on her! Or rather, she didn’t have a shilling or cent on her, for a hundred cents make one Kenyan shilling.
The towering palm trees swayed serenely as the pair ambled their way along, stopping now and then to pop into the little kiosks and admire the colourful ethnic apparel and the beautifully woven kiondos, the traditional baskets made from sisal.
“Jambo!” greeted a jolly, old man, dressed in a khaki coloured safari suit.
Smilingly, Omar and Sara waved in return. “The language spoken here is Swahili and ‘Jambo’ means ‘hello’,” said the well-informed big brother to his little sister. Sara beamed with pride at the older sibling. He certainly knew a lot for a ten year old, she thought.
As they jostled their way through the hustle and bustle, they finally arrived at Uhuru Park. It was so nice and green. Throngs of people sat in the cool shade of the big, leafy trees, enjoying the gentle breeze as they lazed about, munching away at their meal of roasted corn on the cob and nibbling at cassava crisps.
“Look, there’s the national flag of Kenya,” said Omar, pointing to a black-red-green striped flag with an emblem of a Maasai warrior’s shield with two crossed spears, fluttering on its mast. “Sara, I bet you don’t know who the President of Kenya is?”
“Of course, I do. His name is Daniel T. arap Moi,” declared Sara, for she, too, had read books on East Africa.
Omar grinned, nodding in agreement, and then looked at the magic stone because it was beginning to glow. “Oh dear, it’s time to return home now. Look at the stone,” stated Omar, and he quickly clasped his sister’s hand.
Once again, there was a bright flash of light, a puff of smoke, and whoosh! The children found themselves back in their garden, at home, and just in time for dinner. What a wonderful, magical trip!
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