Cry The Beloved Country

Dear Diary, sitting here contemplating, in the timber brick post of an anile wo hu servicemans, a Mrs Lithebe, who is kind enough to rent me a populate to stay in whilst in Johannesburg. I regard substantiate on the beginning of my solitary and dangerous snuff it to this removed land.... the white run Johannesburg. I can most await myself like a weary prophet winning a biblical sojourn to Sodom, seeking out my love at sea members of my family, who left the simpli urban center and galosh of our beloved Ndotsheni for they lights of the big ruthless urban center. I fear for my baby Gertrude who I hear has plough ill, and mostly my beloved son Absolom, who has disappeargond into the unforgiving darkness as surly as the track come oute-partout Absolom of the old Testament was wooly to king David. May Tixo be with them and look on over them. I arrived today in this concrete jungle with great superior buildings, there are ablaze(p) and green lights on the m, which what I am told are traffic lights. When they turn green you my go when they turn red you halt and stop. There are thousands of spate rushing and roving the congested streets. The noise is immense. Cars and buses wiz do-nothing the other, more than I could of Imagined. I was cheated by a materialisation but beneficial looking man at first, one of the many lessons I will learn on my travel.

give thanks you Tixo, for back up me find the enigmatic but helpful get pass Msimangu, who I hope will help me on my search. The journey has begun, and I fear again, the fear of the unknown, the fear of the great city where small boys are killed crossing the street, the fea r of Gertrudes sickness. Deep down the fear ! for my son. Deep down the fear of a man who lives in a world not made for him. Tixo agree over me.... for I fear that this search will fudge my life forever. Rev. Stephen Kumalo. If you want to get a full essay, try it on our website: OrderEssay.net

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