In the land of the Organized, Kaya Chonyi. Karisa saw his wounded Son riding on a white Rhino across the valley of the shadow of life. His Son was singing a song, praying for relief and cure. As he passed through the moist and misty dark, narrow paths of the huge tall timber trees, his wounds slowly healed, his pain disappeared and all his broken bones were restructured.
Raising his voice with joy inspired all villagers he met and waved on his way to the highlands Baobab village.
Barefooted under the oldest sacred tree, he whispered some words, took a handful of soil and blew it to the North, East, South and West. In a twinkle of an eye, all the invaders disappeared from the villages of Kaya Chonyi, finding themselves drowning in quick mud sinking fast like in deep Ocean black holes.
Heavy rainstorms from the highlands, through Coconut, Cassava, Vegetable, Cashew nut, Livestock and poultry Villages miles around the Market Village. A cleansing symbol of peace and harmony. Happy and in a smiling face, Karisa raises his hands up, while in a thank giving position, Suddenly, he finds himself waking up in his warm woven mart bed.