Nyumba Ya Vyumba Vinne Inauzwa Ipo Mbagala Chamazi Magengeni

What are we looking for in ourselves? How do we want to see ourselves in reality, how can we become for a short time in reality? No, this is not reality - this is a dream. Perhaps we should look for the answer in ourselves, we should understand what exactly we want to see, hear, feel, going far from the city bustle and noise, finding ourselves for long torments of cold or heat, stressful situations, deprivation of comfort and rest, constant hard physical loads. Perhaps this short excerpt from the story "The True Story of the Black Numba" will help to imbue with the feeling of what we feel after leaving the warm, cozy homes of our hometown, and then rise to the cold silence of the snow-capped peaks or get lost for weeks in hot deserts, or dense impenetrable forests. A sandy yellow desert, the wind drives dry grass, the merciless sun burns out all living things, the horizon is somewhere far behind. A giant black numba crawls along the slope of the dune. His body is like a shapeless unicellular structure, his skin is dry and cracked, his strength is running out. I am Nyumba Ya Vyumba Vinne Inauzwa Ipo Mbagala Chamazi Magengeni  lying on the top of the dune and I have a presentiment of imminent death, but my brain is still trying to resist, and therefore I am looking for an excuse to refuse death for at least a couple of hours. Suddenly I see a black numba, it creeps in my direction. My fingers begin to scratch the hot sand, my feet help my body slide down the slope. Me and Numb are suddenly very close to each other. He looks at me with a helpless dull look and tries to say something in an incomprehensible dialect, but I say forgive him, it is so necessary and cynically I kill an incomprehensible creature. His blood turned out to be colorless and sweet, and his meat was tender and tasty like that of a young chicken. I unceremoniously eat half a nyumba, and from the remaining parts of my lifeless body I rip off the scalp and make myself a kind of tent that will reliably protect me from the scorching sun. So a day passes, two, three .. but I don’t want to drink, eat, but also, and live .. I am lonely, I don’t know the way back, I don’t see the way forward, I have no home, no regret, no love , happiness, it makes no sense ... there is nothing, and my soul is empty, like a rusty tin can. Then I start to analyze. I look at the remains of a dead nyumba and wonder why his body was not rotten, but perfectly preserved in the state in which I found him still alive. It is possible that life is still smoldering in the cells of this organism. Then I cut myself a vein in my arm and start trying to get the nyumba drunk. So an hour passes, I again begin to die from rapid blood loss, but the numba also remains motionless. I understand that this attempt to preserve the life of a formless creature was as meaningless as my whole life lived. Then I look for the last time at the burnt-out sky, at the endless sand of the hot desert, and slowly close my eyes. I'll never wake up again, but it doesn't matter anymore. I feel pain, so I live. I open my eyes and see a bright light, snow-white hospital walls. A man in a white coat bent over me. He slowly repeats to me one and the same phrase: the balance in nature must not be disturbed, there must be harmony and meaning in everything. I understand that I violated something, perhaps killed, and then revived, but perhaps something went wrong, because I feel an acute sense of my guilt. A man in a white coat takes a huge saw from a nearby table and starts sawing my skull. It hurts unbearably, but I can't even move my fingertips. Sticky blood slowly floods my eyes, I can't see anything else and begin to faint. Days go by, maybe weeks. I wake up feeling that someone is looking at me and stroking my shattered skull, while trying in vain to unravel the hair that has stuck together from blood. I open my eyes, but I can’t see anything. the bright sunlight hurts me. But in the end, I cope with these sensations and try to consider the person sitting next to him. It turns out to be the same black numb ... Now I live again, cells of the black numba were implanted into my brain, the lower jaw was pulled out and replaced with some kind of processes, similar to teeth, as it turned out, these are bony processes from the numba jaw. My blood was mixed with the blood of black numba. Now a translucent pink, sweet-tasting liquid flows through my arteries, which unbearably burns my body. But I continue to feel some strange excitement and a huge surge of energy. I don’t understand why https://jiji.co.tz/temeke/houses-apartments-for-sale/nyumba-ya-vyumba-vinne-inauzwa-ipo-mbagala-chamazi-magengeni-aC4X1fz9lCOYFoiq55R5s1qy.html