The electric fire kills people: they say it is lightning... - p’Bitek Okot

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.

You kiss her on the cheek, as white people do. You kiss her lips, even if they have open sores, as white people do. You exchange slimy saliva from each other's mouths, just like white people do.

Perhaps she has aborted many children, or maybe she has even thrown her twins into the pit latrine!