From Sudan, a caravan follows ancestor’s ghostly trail. The traders wearing flowing galabeyas finally arrive at Birqash market.
Grinding out an existence, they sell exhausted camels that will be used for work or slaughter.
It is time to socialize, smoke the shisha pipe, and drink some tea.
The technologically advancing world does not stop tradition from marching on.
Find More Poetry HERE
Back to HOME PAGE
Copyright© Edge of Humanity LLC 2019