The Frango King.
December 13th 2008 Rui is wrapped in a bedsheet and sleeping under the cashew tree when I set off for the train to Nampula. He wipes the sleep from his eyes, raises half-heartedly, offers to walk me to the station. I pat his shoulder and thank him for the offer, but tell him to go back to sleep. “Estou bêm,” I assure him. The early pre-dawn blue has begun to show in the sky, and sleepy Cuamba doubtless has few
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