In a land exotic and far away,
Where the skies are blue and the palm trees sway,
Lived a tribe, distrustfully wary,
Of strangers who came, frantically in a hurry.

They kept a journal, a record of old,
Of their lives, their stories, and tales untold,
But danger lurked in the shadows at night,
For malaria spread, with all its might.

The river flowed, a tributary grand,
And the tribe found peace, in its gentle hand,
But foreign eyes watched from beyond the trees,
And their presence was felt, like a chill in the breeze.

The machete gleamed, in the noonday sun,
And the tribe knew that danger had just begun,
But they stood their ground, with courage and might,
And fought for their land, with all their sight.

The fuchsia blossomed, in shades so bright,
And brought joy to the tribe, in their darkest night,
For they knew that even in times of strife,
There's always hope, in the beauty of life.

So young ones, remember, in proximity near,
That love and kindness, will always conquer fear,
And in the face of adversity, we'll stand tall,
With the strength and spirit, of one and all.

Reflections

1. How did the tribe feel about strangers who came to their land?
2. What was the journal that the tribe kept, and why was it important to them?
3. What kind of danger did the tribe face from malaria, and how did they deal with it?
4. Why did the tribe have to fight with a machete, and how did they feel about it?
5. What did the fuchsia blossoms symbolize in the story, and why were they important to the tribe?