Literature Critical Thinking Essay Paper on Kibrea


My merchant travels my lord, took me to the dark continent through the horn-shaped shores. I went there in need of slaves and ivory. I ended up seeking ivory only, as the people I found there were nothing but beasts. Sudan was the name of the land. The men of this land are tall, twice the height of your tallest soldier. They are dark, strong, mean and vicious. I was wise enough to realize that these were not the kind of people to capture. They are so strong that it takes only for men to take down an elephant. And not using swords or spears, but clubs. The clubs were so heavy, made of hard wood and iron ore. They love to torture their game, and they break the limbs of the elephants and taunt them to death. Their main meal is blood, blood of the most vicious animals, such as lions, buffaloes, leopards and even crocodiles. They love bitter roots and herbs and methinks that is the source of their strength.

I am telling you about these amazing people, as they directed me to the city of Kibrea. It is known as the city of the immortals by the Sudan people. The city is located inside a mountain crater. It is only accessible through a cave on the mountainside from which emanates yellow smoke of sulfur. At the peaks of the mountain, one is able to see the meticulously built city with domes made of gold just like those of Syria or Moscow. I call them domes for lack of a better name, as I have never seen such shapes before. We camped at the slopes as I watched the city. Come night time, the city is awash with lights whose source is not apparent. In the day time, it is filled with mist such that they eyes of the curious ones such as me were denied clear view.

Getting to Kibrea is an adventure by itself. The floor of the cave is riddled with stones that are as sharp as razors, having the ability to pierce through even armored sandals. The sulfur smoke chokes the traveller and reprieves him at the same time by granting him a limited amount of light. Still inside the cave, one comes upon canal of filth, worse than that of the backyards of Athens. The stench is overwhelming and the maggots found therein are as long and big as the ring finger of a grown man. The roaches my lord were as big as rats and had their nests in the skulls of sojourners long dead. The canal is as wide as river Euphrates and on the other end is the gate to the city of the immortals. The interested traveller finds a shiny dagger hanging at the gate. They are supposed to either slit their throat or pierce their heart in order to get rid of mortality.

If the dagger finds the traveller worthy, he dies not but heals, and is welcomed to the city. If the traveller is not worthy, well, he dies and is thrown into the filth. Zakiir, the beast of a man that guides me, tells me to swim through the filth and get to the dagger. Thinking of it, I do not consider myself worthy of the dagger. We turn back and once we are out of the cave, Zakiir gives me the bitterest drink I have ever tasted to tone down the effects of the sulfur smoke. He treats our bleeding feet with what he says is the marrow of a crocodile. We return to our camp at the peaks and decide that I am contented with watching Kibrea from the mountaintop.