Da Saggas continue

In the land of the three hills, La Trinite Children travel in groups,
Men, who don't even smoke, carry lighters!
Women sleep with salt near their beds!
And everyone swears they know
Who Papa Bois is!
I have few memories of my grandparents when I was a little girl
Trips to the country were filled
With strange sounds, sights and smells
The oral traditions were passed, “From one generation to the next,
Voiced from memories.
Woven with modern reference Embellished, with experience, each new griot, passed along
In her unique syntax
Colored by the lingo of her time ---,
And the rhythm of her peers
Da Saggas of ancestry!
This is my version --',
A tribute
To a long line of story tellers before me
Who boldly carried the seeds of the Sagas across oceans,
And through difficult, even perilous times!
It has become a legacy to my son Connecting me as woman, mother, Daughter, sister, friend, Lover and soldier
Weaving as it were history, folklore, Imagery and wisdom And Yes Sometimes good old fashion Gossip ..