In the placid lean of an arid summer, in the lingeringsnarl of pit latrines, the sharp barbs of the acacia,in the opaque eyes of the girl whose fingers frenzy
“We always kicked for the same team. We prayednext to each other on the sajjada during salat.
“As you can see the camps are overpopulated,and the small parts in between, if somebodyvanishes, getting to them is like a reunion date
Over a tundra of red sand they arrive eager as stadiumfans, with laundry-like sacks and bags, separated into queues:
The UNHCR Somali driver speeds by a small herdof white cattle prodded along by a desert farmer.rust-colored dust in its wake clouds barbed-