The African night

Turkana African Soul

                        Turkana African Soul.

Black was the feminine darkness that caressed me every night. She could be voluptuous, velvet, and soft; that’s when I could smell her jasmine pepper-sweet body. But she could also be black ice, cold and sharp and unsympathetic to my whimpers and muffled groans on those close nights that choked me. She carried this distrustful sting of ambivalence even when she was running her long fingers of sweat through my tangled hair. I could have feared and hated her – but I didn’t: I loved her, and always would. She was my black spirit of sensual addiction. Her nightcaps were of sequins embroidered on rich velvets of dark plum, burnt caramel, and indigo. Colours dependent on the time of night, dust in the air, fires on the horizon, phases of the moon, lurking storm clouds – or simply the midnight closeness.

She was a Mephistopheles who kept strange company: arguing parents, barking dogs, the ghosts of distant hyenas, unknown owl calls, or the unsettling shriek of a bush baby in distress. Her smell then, was a fetid waft from a swamp – or was it that our septic tank was blocked? I used to ponder as to why our septic tank always belched at night, and never during the day.

Allan Taylor, author Luanshya musings


Kunzite - Konar Province, Afghanistan

     Kunzite – Konar Province, Afghanistan: Bijoux-et-mineraux  

Ah hum’s roots – I love

In strength Ah Hum’s emotions were the ground on which he was able to stand tall and fight in the name of love; whereas in situations of weakness his emotions were a pitiful flight of lost love. When his roots were nurtured, they gave him his positive determination to continue loving; when he abused them with spurned love, they spewed up a directionless lassitude which turned into resentment.

Love was a complex state of being that needed the support of powerful allies. Out of his alchemist’s calico bag he drew:

Hiddenite and orange blossom oil: tokens of heartfelt gratitude.

Aventurine crystals and melissa leaves: to symbolise the sweet harmony of spiritual and emotional growth.

Watermelon tourmaline and unction of nard: symbols of loving kindness since ancient times.

Rose quartz and rose oil: the eternal symbols of unconditional love.

Kunzite and palma rosa oil: the possession of which would induce a state of inner peace within him.

Allan Taylor,author Luanshya musings


Unconditional love African Soul

Love is a building block of an awareness that we ‘are’. We would not build upon our conscious awareness without the focused desire to be ‘one’ with someone – those are the mechanics of attraction that we loosely call love.  Without the first grain of love to build upon, our awareness, which is a wide open facet of our Soul, would drift quietly away from us in haphazard detachment and indifference. In such a vague state of existence we would not be given the chance of physical and cognitive growth in the swirl of universal happenings.

Allan Taylor, author Luanshya musings

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

My Soul

Speechless African Soul

                         African Soul


My Soul will probably fly even further and faster when I am physically gone and free from my timeline. For now it is content to nestle in the heart of the temporal me: to whisper in my ear every now and then; possibly having quiet chats with my observer at the edge of my inner clearing beyond.

The events of my life do not delineate who I am. They are mere chaff in the wind compared to this inner presence that continually redefines the physical thinking me.

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

Inner space

Jacon Oster Mursi girl Ethiopia

                      Jacob Oster Mursi girl Ethiopia

Just as I can describe the relativity of my time as a hollow rubber ball, so can I describe my Soul as being the sole owner of my gawky mind and body.

Inside my time ball there is an apparent nothingness which defines the outside circumference of my outer oneness. My life, like a rubbery skin, passionately wraps itself around this mysterious rounding force of nothingness; which in turn defines my physical wholeness, my rounded permanence, which in turn is my creative potential for being. I call this inner space of ‘nothingness’ my Soul.

Allan Taylor, author, Luanshya musings


Inner magic on a material plane

Moonstone 2

How could So Hum deal with such powerful swells in his body? He turned to the materials of his soothsaying trade for help:

Citrine and lemon grass: to further self-control through the Soul and not the ego.

Golden topaz and rosemary: to solidify good intentions and accomplish resolute action.

Chrysoberyl and lemon oil: to sharpen his focus and rid him of small-mindedness and confusion.

Moonstone and jasmine: to help him understand the natural cycles of change, of hot and cold, good and bad, joy and fear, male and female.

Allan Taylor, author Luanshya musings

Citrine rain

Auroa Mine San Luis Potosi Mexico      Auroa Mine San Luis Potosi Mexico.

So Hum – wanting rain

So Ham took time to move among the broad branches of his imaginary rain tree. In time his gait changed. It was still a hesitant rock – back and forth, a slow rhumba; but when his front foot lifted, and the back foot landed, they did so with an added permanence of ‘I want’, which was followed by, ‘I want more’.

So Hum partook in pleasurable things for a good while; in fact, beyond the boundaries of time, but then a citrine bejewelled rain was carried in. It was one of those timeless soft rains that carried a promise of consolidated growth, and yet So Hum could swear that this time it was edged with foreboding.

His wobbly bobbly eyes had lost most of their malignant fear during the good times, but now they were cataracting over with avarice and a mistrust of perhaps not getting enough of everything that he really wanted.

He foolishly interpreted its offer of quiet restraint and fortitude as a spartan choice, and rejected it because he saw it as a punishing onslaught against his greedy senses. This vagary would cost him much emotional pain.

In So Hum’s small delusional mind, if you could call it a mind, the citrine rain came in a cutting slant of slivers of bright yellow crystals that stung his defenceless protruding eyes, whipped his hunched back, and brought him to his first tears of confused disappointment.

Allan Taylor. author, Luanshya musings