In the barrio, they talked excitedly about the wood-gatherer's discovery. There was so much pushing and quibbling over details that by the time the barrio had organized itself to set out for Salug to investigate, dusk had already fallen.

The President . . . stuck to his guns on that, not repeating any of his recent admissions that there had been miscalculations in planning for the war.

Come over to our place for a braai.

‘Deadly,’ she said, and passed me the durrie. I took a drag. Was she watching? No, thank goodness, she was looking down at the water again. I blew the smoke straight out, without taking it into my lungs. ‘Deadly,’ I said, and passed the durrie back to Clarence.