Olokwango hill stood smiling at the middle of Kwere Plains. From its side, came springs which joined downhill to form River Temu. Its waters were a gift to the sheep and goats of the area as well as the deer that dwelt in the plains.
Things were all well until Matata became headman. He ordered a path to be cleared from the top of the hill to the foot so that he could climb uphill easily and roll gently down to the foot. Olokwango hill was angry with the damage to his beard, but he was patient.
During the weekend, Matata's children and their friends would climb uphill to play. They would run all over the place, breaking twigs and branches, lighting fires for their games, which they would later leave burning.
Over time, Olokwango lost patience. The dimples became smaller and smaller as his face turned into ugly wrinkles. At last the springs were no more. The deer in the plains migrated because there was no more tall green grass to play in. The sheep and goats grew thinner and thinner. Everyone felt the sadness of Olokwango hill.
The people of Kwere realised that something needed to be done.

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