Shooting the neighbours, again.

This week's mother and child.

A thing of amusement and mystery, and often annoyance, to me, is this: in all the neighbourhoods we have ever lived, all the little kids immediately take a great deal of liking to my folks, and kind of adopt them as foster parents. It is not really the other way round, although the ol' woman and man really love kids. We have moved around a bit over the years, and there were always a small gang of kids in their ambit as far as I can recall. (The most mischievous of them, round-cheeked round-eyed Dilia, all of four, wanted to marry me when I come back after finishing college. Another fragment of memory: Dilia and Immanuel crying out to the lass washing clothes on the other shore of the river: "Kavutha chechi, Kavutha chechi, Kavutha chechinte kundi!")

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