"The Impeccable Choir of Saint-Denis" by Raj Raj, December 2012

Disclaimer: All characters presented here are product of fiction. Any resemblances to real characters are of a pure coincidence. No intention was made to insult anyone for any reason.

AN: This story is an act of fiction. No one should attempt to act in the same manner as described.

AN2: None.

Summary: Then, in the reign of Louis VI (1108-1137), the abbey church of Marienville saw the traditional forms combined with the heavy pointed ribs in the ambulatory. At Saint-Etienne in Bauhaus, around 1130, in Saint-Pierre at Bathos, in Saint-Martin-des-Champs in Paris, this example was followed with more or less success.

The Impeccable Choir of Saint-Denis

After finishing their "bank job", Bradrick, Sumit, Ravi and Ashie were sitting inside of their unmarked van, resting uncomfortably on the pile of their loot, their balaclava masks lifted half-way up over their faces.

"Where now …?" Ashie offered lazily, gasping, in bad need of a massage.

No one spoke back. They listened to the rain drumming outside.

"Turkana is a District in Kenya found in the Rift Valley Province …", Sumit started lazily, trying to accommodate himself better, "… it is in fact the largest district in Kenya but …", they listened to some screeching tires outside.

"But? …", Ravi mocked him.

"But tops the list of poverty due to its dryness in nature." Sumit shot one careless stare at Ravi. Ravi looked frozen, his gaze meeting that bending area of the van's ceiling. "It rarely rains and if it does very little rain is experienced which is not enough for agricultural activities."

"Ah … geography …" Bradrick was first to move, others almost surprised where he found so much strength.

"Turkana borders Marsabit and Samburu Districts in the east, Baringo and West Pokot Districts in the south and Ethiopia, Sudan and Uganda in the North which are international boundaries."

They kept quite for a while, some distance and faint sirens, reminding them what they've been up to for the past 72 hours.

"Go on …", Ravi finally yawned.

"Due to its nature of poverty …", some bird landed atop and they grinned, listening in wonder, "… the Turkana rely a lot on relief food from mostly Non Governmental Organizations such as World Poisoned Food Programme, OXLEGS, World Blurred Vision and the Catholic Death Cease who also play a role in youth activities, educating children up to University level, justice and peace programs, health and digging bore holes in the most remote areas of Turkana."

Bird left them. Ashie sighed.

"How about the neighbors though? Don't they raid them or something?" Bradrick grumbled, feelings tiff and sore all over.

"Raiding activities are in fact high between the Turkana and neighboring communities …", Sumit looked at Bradrick in mild wonder, "… which is primarily based on livestock and this is due to low productivity of the rangelands and high variation of rainfall." Someone farted and they chuckled in some slow motion, still unable to move.

"Pastoralists frequently move to find pasture in different locations of the District depending on where it recently experienced short rains … if any." Sumit continued on his own.

There was another pause. Some construction noises reached them from time to time.

"Who?" Ravi remembered suddenly.

"Pastoralists?" Sumit offered back, sighing as if about to sleep.

After Najit arrived, they all started to pack, about to abandon their vehicle.

Later on, after dozing off, they all awoke for the late dinner in a cottage house, miles and miles away from their original crime scene.

As they were lazily leaning back, Najit grinning at them in secret, Sumit continued.

"Central parts of the District are the safest for both visitors and the locals so many people visit and live in the central small towns of the District as compared to Northern, … North-Western and Southern areas."

"What's the capital though?" Ravi offered lazily.

"Lodwar is the main town of Turkana."

"Where?" Najit wanted to know but no one answered him.

Tomorrow, as they were mountaineering with large backpacks, Sumit continued.

"Like the Maasai and Samburu, Turkana women wear very colorful attired decorated with beads of bright colors …", Bradrick checked on Ashie quickly, remembering she had special needs, being the only female among them, "… most of their decorations are made of red, yellow and green colored beads."

They stopped at one summit, endorsing the vista around.

"Their traditional way of hairstyle is a kind of the modern mohawk currently on fashion for most young people but …", there was a faint sound of a helicopter and they decided it was best to move along, "… the Turkana have theirs twisted in long braids which are twisted using special clay called 'emu'nyen' which keeps it tight for a long time before it can be redone."

"Emu'nyen?" Ashie repeated.

"That's right."

"I wonder what it means though? …"

Few days later, while they were waiting for the vessel, Sumit continued.

"The Turkana still don't allow the girl child to go to school, they strongly believe her role is in helping with house chores and getting married off to their fathers choice of husband at the age of thirteen."

"Ha!" Ravi sniffed, staring at Ashie sideways.

"What?" She sneered back to him.

"Nothing …" Ravi exhaled slowly.

Sounds of wind and rain mixed into a typical rainforest sounds.

"Go on …" Bradrick scoffed with a sigh.

"With the involvement of the Catholic Church and N.G.O's majoring in educative concerns the norm is …", Sumit paused, looking perplexed as he heard some bear groan, "… is gradually dying out in the town areas much faster than in the remote areas, more girls have been able to finish school than the previous years …", bear roared again, probably sniffing the air towards them, "… thanks to the village meetings gathered in age groups by these organizations to …"

"What?" Ashie could no longer tolerate such intermissions.

"I thought I heard a bear?" Sumit offered.

They listened but there was no response.

"Go on … sissy …" Ravi chuckled in some harsh manner.

"These organizations educate parents about the importance of the girl child education but which mostly don't happen empty handed, … food and basic needs items are mostly distributed during these meetings to …", he paused again, pretending to be listening and Ashie snorted, scratching her thigh, "... to encourage more people to join."

"Sounds uninteresting …" Bradrick leered.

Finally someone shouted the signal words and they started to load their backpacks onto the boat.

As they were leaving the shore, Sumit continued with his promising story.

"The pastoralists of Turkana had one strategy above all others for surviving drought …"

"And that would be? …" Bradrick started to get annoyed a bit by Sumit's blabbering.

"Mobility."

They looked at each other.

For a while they listened to the waves, tried to avoid puking at the same time in the unkempt toilet and basically regretted they've eaten so much back at the cottage.

But, since they could not sleep, Bradrick nudged Sumit to continue, trying to focus their attention to something else than the constant rocking of the boat.

"As local water points dried up …", Sumit sighed, noticing Ashie rolled with her eyes, trying to concentrate on something else, "... they would move into Uganda, South Sudan or deeper into Kenya, to find water and grazing for their livestock."

Even some faint mention on anything that could be turned into food, made them even more sick.

"Go on …" Ravi nodded like some drunkard.

"With livestock, … pastoralists had food security."

"Oh, stop it!" Ashie protested, lowering her messy hair that covered most of her face.

Later on, just as they were about to sleep somehow, Sumit giggled in semi-darkness.

"What?" Bradrick wondered whether someone hid some parts of their loot back at the land.

"They could also boost their diet with wild fruits and replenish lost livestock by raiding neighboring tribes …", Ashie threw some object towards him, making him chuckle, "… and …", he paused, expecting something heavier from her, "… this way …", Ravi stirred as if already sleeping, "… survive the cycles of drought."

Someone farted again.

"Bless you!" Bradrick mumbled as he was drowsing away.