“Deception,” the farmer-poet, and udders that sweep the floor.
February 16th 2008 It takes close to an hour to negotiate the traffic of downtown Kampala and make it out of the city, but soon the country opens out around us: lush, undulating, endless, with sheets of smoke rising from the burning crops in the distance. It’s a beautiful, bumpy drive. We stop in small towns for passengers to get off: men with battered suitcases, women with burbling, bleary-eyed babies on their ba
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