The Kasankas


The same old water diviner told me about a swampy area ‘not a 100 miles from here as the crow flies’. It was called the Kasankas. Every year thousands of fruit bats arrived from as far away as Central Congo and Tanganyika to feed off wild fruits that grew there. Large crocodiles lay under wild fruit trees fertilised for centuries by drips of stinking bat guano. Spattered with dung, they took advantage of causalities, as the young, old, injured, dead and bickering fell out of the trees. A soft nerve impulse in a membranous wing in another land had caused these debauched reptilian monsters to haul themselves from their riverine habitats to become forest creatures during bat feeding frenzies. The bats came for the fruit, and the crocs came for the bats. Life and death were welcomed to the same dinner table: both invited by Lady Consequence, their gracious host.

Allan Taylor, author, Luanshya musings


Those mesmerising little eddies and whirlpools that seemed to aimlessly muse themselves into oblivion in the temporal backwaters of the Luanshya River: they knew one day they would meet the great Zambezi, and eventually the grand shores of the Indian Ocean. Like them, I had to go with the flow. Our futures were not stagnant pools of mosquito larvae infested water in the vlei. Like mosquito larvae, life called for change.

Allan Taylor, author Luanshya  musings

Ross Sayers

                        Mana Pools, Zambezi Valley. Ross Sayers


The young man brought out a finely carved wooden kist and placed it in front of the old man, who was now kneeling in front of us. With another silent flick of his head he instructed the boy to close the heavy door to his shop. A perfume escaped from the kist and cut into the muggy air that weighed upon us.

Allan Taylor, author Luanshya musings

Historic door in Stone Town

                                                    Stone town Zanzibar


This week seems like its been a long road… but I have a feeling that I have got somewhere.

My Soul is not an insular bundle of energy,

It is one of countless oscillating waves that make up the aethereal sea of humanity.

It is my spiritual destiny to unconditionally resonate within these spiritual waters.

When I hear them wash up against the shoreline of my being,

The familiar lapping sound that I can hear, is my homecoming.

Allan Taylor, author of Luanshya musings

justin Foulkes

                         Justin Foulkes