I am she who lifts the mountains When she goes to hunt, Who wears mamba for a headband And a lion for a belt. Beware! I swallow elephants whole And pick my teeth with rhinoceros horns, I drink up rivers to get at the hippos. Let them hear my words! Nhamo is coming And her hunger is great. I am she who tosses trees Instead of spears. The ostrich is my pillow And the elephant is my footstool! I am Nhamo Who makes the river my highway And sends crocodiles scurrying into the reeds!
Nancy FarmerLook around you...Feel the wind, smell the air. Listen to the birds and watch the sky. Tell me what's happening in the wide world.
Nancy FarmerThat was the best kind of story: when the teller was as much under its spell as the listener.
Nancy FarmerHe has his good side and his bad side. Very dark indeed is his majesty when he wants to be. When he was young, he made a choice, like a tree does when it decides to grow one way or the other. He grew large and green until he shadowed over the whole forest, but most of his branches are twisted.
Nancy FarmerYou donโt have a soul, so you canโt be baptized. All animals are like that. I think itโs unfair and sometimes I donโt believe it. After all, what would heaven be without birds or dogs or horses? And what about trees and flowers? They donโt have souls either. Does that mean heaven looks like a cement parking lot? I suppose this is what the nuns call a theological problem.
Nancy Farmer