“My life’s a curse,” she said
Her first husband was wounded in battle and died in her arms. Her second husband beat her.
Two of her children perished from one of the most curable diseases — diarrhea.
And now she is a southerner in a northern land, a conspicuous
dark-skinned outsider, with traditional swirling scars all over her
face, trying to raise two sons and two daughters. Worse still, the only
marketable skill she has is cooking up homebrewed alcohol, a serious
crime in Islamist Sudan that has landed her in jail more than 10 times
and earned her dozens of lashes.
“See,” she said, pointing to the ribbons of shiny white scars up and down her shins. “The police.” Full Read
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