Tuesday, January 20, 2009
He was always Awil to those who knew him since he was a boy who ran around in his birthday suit, his face often caked with
mûrit from dirt, dried-up tears, and a breakfast diet of rice coffee that his mother did not bother to wipe off his cheeks. The eldest of ten children, he only went as far as the second grade, and this is the reason he has always had a hard time with math, could not read, and could hardly write – save for his name.