Eight Days in Mwanza by Jane Murray Bird
Each day, we walk down the red dirt track that rises up like a sand spit from the lake. We pass groups of men, women, children sitting by the side of the road, watching the port, waiting. […]
Each day, we walk down the red dirt track that rises up like a sand spit from the lake. We pass groups of men, women, children sitting by the side of the road, watching the port, waiting. […]