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It was an eventide that ushered in the twilight when the last ship docked on our shore. From its deck emerges silhouettes of men like shades in black robes. With a tiny little white round cuff around their necks, like walking dead, they each staggered to climb out of the ship deck chanting with their prayer beads. And they were called, the priests of the highest being; as we were all high from the holy water they told us to, “drink, it is the water from the holy land which you are sojourning to”. I wake from my sleep when the last bell tolled and the Church doors opened and with peace of heart, I rolled out of my bed. On what seems like a memorial service, ones held in remembrance of one’s loved ones who have departed from the earth, as the parishioners gathered in the front of the Church of St Kelvin’s Ecumenical, and loudspeakers blared thundersome sounds like a shell of bombs. As one of their rituals, the glorified glorious choirs chanted a hymn from the old-looking S.S & S, the collection of an ancient and modern hymn book distributed to all the seated members of the newfound faith, friends and family who have been waiting for this day to come. For it is announced that it is a day set out for baptism and the renaming of our beloved natives. For the new-found faith of our beloved;  it has now become a necessity for baptism and given a name for he has now become one with them, as saints unto their Lords – leaving our ways of life even before the coming of those who looks like the gods that we have not seen before. We run after names without a change of heart that proves our repentance and our history abashed at the altar of the men across the seas.

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