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He said war was evil, but if it came he would revel in it like sand in a storm.
They say that when faced with a fight you cannot win, you can never predict what you will do next. But I’d always known I’d fight until I was killed.
Our land is desert, but we live in the region where there is sacred red clay.” “Why do you spread it on your skins?” “Because my people are sons and daughters of the soil,” I said. “And . . . and it’s beautiful.”
“Tribal”: that’s what they called humans from ethnic groups too remote and “uncivilized” to regularly send students to attend Oomza Uni.
My otjize. Yes, there is a story there.
