b'THE REST OF US STORIES A CrackOnce a barefoot child,Walking on the sands of navety,Clad by the dust of hope,I paid homage to my ancestors.My grandmother; a wise matriarchSaid to me, in a riddle-culled tongue,That a boy cannot see the far dunes Even if the tallest of Baobabs he were to climb.Her twisted wordsConfused my nave mindBut I grasped the audible whisper:Idi, be true to thy self as you shall to others.But I am truthful, I declaredWith a doubtfully assuring fervour.She laughed and chewed the kolanut;Making her mouth red with words.A kid you are, she retortedWhose right he knows not yet!Go and run with the cows You poor adventurous soul.Growing up as a man,On TheKakas words trouble the mind.Haunting the peaceful abodeOf my stuffed innocent thoughts.As I wandered in the world,So wide and white and cold,I search for that trueWhich Kaka tasked me to be.Oh, dear truthmy part so elusive,Whose presence I can only feelBut defied me to see,Where can I find thee?As if to answer my thoughts,Kakas voice sproutsFrom the belly of mother earth;Calm, clear and sharp.Look at the cold face, she whisperedOf that hurrying HarryAnd notice the crackGuised as a smile.Now listen Idi, she warned.Remember your ancestors wayThey smile from the heartOr just shut the mouth. FaceIdi the son of sunshineWhose smile lights the worldBe true to yourself:Smile from your heart.12'