Well, we certainly weren’t stealing that corn. Absolutely not. I mean, we’d bought it quite legally – two sacks of shelled white, up in Geregere Village. We’d wrangled long and hard over the price, too, and finally agreed on something reasonable, with money passed from hand to hand, and smiles all round.

And, of course, we had to get it milled somewhere. You can’t just eat dry corn.

It has to be ground into fine, white flour before it can be cooked and made into posho.

An orphan’s act of courage saves a life.