The bushes scraped against my face as wave after wave of nausea washed over me. How did I end up in this position? A group of silver-haired slow moving church mothers comes to my rescue. As I rose to meet them, one prepared to anoint my head with oil, and another handed me a bottle of water. “This is so bizarre,” I kept thinking as her weathered, oily hand brushed my forehead. I had not felt a single moment of sickness before this…
Kim Jagwe, lover of the written word and COO of Sowl Studios. I’m an eternal dream chaser and encourager of people! My home is www.kimjagwe.com
