photos by keith armstrong
FROM A SWAHILI PHRASEBOOK
There are strangers in the field.
There is a child at the door.
There are eggs in the basket.
Drunkenness takes away sense.
Trains go by every day.
Every year my father cultivates a field of rice.
I am working in order to get money.
I am working so that my child may get clothes.
Sing your songs that I may hear them.
Sing your songs so that I may have a chance of hearing them.
KEITH ARMSTRONG
