Emily Ker

“I had made an early policy decision to drink the native beer despite the undoubted horrors of the process of fabrication. On my very first visit to a Dowayo beer party, this was put severely to the test. "Will you have beer?" I was asked. "Beer is furrowed," I replied, having got the tones wrong. "He said 'yes' ", my assistant replied in a tired voice. They were amazed. No white man, at this time, had ever been known to touch beer. Seizing a calabash, they proceeded to wash it out in deference to my exotic sensibilities. They did this by offering it to a dog to lick out. Dowayo dogs are not beautiful at the best of times; this one was particularly loathsome, emaciated, open wounds on its ears where flies feasted, huge distended ticks hanging from its belly. It licked the calabash with relish. It was refilled and passed to me. Everyone regarded me, beaming expectantly. There was nothing to be done; I drained it and gasped out my enjoyment. Several more calabashes followed.”
― Nigel Barley, The Innocent Anthropologist: Notes from a Mud Hut

“Still, I did not regret for a moment leaving the bright lights of Manhattan behind in favour of night skies so dark the stars seemed close enough to be street lights. In the recycled cabin air of the long flight back, I physically longed for Rwanda, its rich red earth, the smell of its wood fires and its vibrant humanity.”
― Roméo Dallaire, Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda

“The piranhas said nothing, but they thrashed about in their bowl, ominously.”
― Neil Gaiman, Fortunately, the Milk

“Tears, like bitter rivers, streamed down his dried-up cheeks, as he stood swaying in his brother's arms.”
― Leon Garfield, Shakespeare Stories