My grandmother is an avid story teller. She has the gift of describing events in a way that you get the perfect picture. As such, I love listening to her stories.

One day, mama came back from the farm fatigued and stressed. She laid down the bag that was half filled with freshly harvested maize and moved towards the drainage to clean up her cutlass and hoe. After that, she settled down to have her meal.

“Mama tell me another story.”

I demanded as soon as I felt she had gotten enough rest.

A faint smile swept across her face.

“Today, I will tell you a story about a country.”

I balanced myself comfortably on her laps so the words of the story could sink in perfectly from her mouth into my ears.

“Story? Story?”

“Story!”

“Once upon a time?”

“Time. Time.”

“There was a colourful country – vast in…