The pumpkin in the old homestead. Must not be uprooted. - p’Bitek Okot

The smell of carbolic soap; Makes me sick; And the smell of powder; Provokes the ghosts in my head; It is then necessary to fetch a goat; From my mother's brother; The sacrifice over; The ghost -dance drum must sound; The ghost be laid; And my peace restored.

I do not complain that you eat white men's foods. If you enjoy them, go ahead. Shall we just agree to have freedom to eat what one likes?

When the beautiful one with whom I share my husband returns from cooking her hair, she resembles a chicken that has fallen into a pond; her hair looks like the python's discarded skin.