A Place for the my fine feathered friends to rest, hunt and fatten themselves before taking off
October 10, 2012
The Chinaman Cocoa Farmer of Gabundi estate stood at the edge of his half completed mansion on the only hill overlooking his vast estate – as usual the Shahidi wore his open neck Khaki shirt, flared ridding breeches, knee high tan polished boots. Flanked by his tall Matabilli tribesman bodyguard that day the Chinaman had specially worn white cotton gloves – as he was on site that day to chaperone the new German school teacher nun who had expressed an interest in taking a closer look at his new mansion – as the European school teacher walked beside the Shahidi, she paused and suddenly a quizzical look seemed almost to invade her serene features – she was curious as to why there were rectangular holes at the upper level of each wall. When she asked the Shahidi. The man smiled wrly and told her, “it is for my fine feathered friends…for them to rest, hunt and fatten themselves before they make that epic journey to wherever they are flying to…” When the German nun turned to him as if asking why. He had merely replied, “You see Madam, I know how it is like when one is on the run…” And with these words the Shahidi gestured towards the Moroccon design hall with its hand painted tiles and cut crystal French Chandeliers.
Eight Months ago somewhere in an oil palm estate
The oil palm landowner was dressed that day in his No.2 formal Khaki bushjacket and mirror polish laced shoes – he had stood there on the same spot for hours as he supervised the workers working on the strange looking rectangular portholes on the upper level of the walls. For the last two days, he had stood on the same spot overseeing like a falcon this section of the work - when one of the curious workers asked what was this strange looking porthole for – the man replied in a slow whispering voice, “it is for my fine feathered friends…for them to rest, hunt and fatten themselves before they make that epic journey to wherever they are going…” When the worker turned to him as if asking why. The man had merely replied, “You see, I know how it is when one is on the run…”