From the floor of a RETSULAUNT in Karonga
November 15th 2007 Narrow strips of sunlight broke through the badly constructed walls of the shack - which according to its’ sign - claimed to be a RETSULAUNT.
The floor consisted of evened out cow-dung, a greyish-brown sense of cool, on which I lay flat on my back, trying to soak up as much coolness as possible.
Outside the day was sweltering and languid. The men of Karonga sat chattering on rickety benches in
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