” I came across a white clothed widow in her seventies called Mejo Ma (middle mother), sitting in the dusty lane in front of her home. She could not stop complaining about clinging. her attatchments to her family, to thigs, to good food, and to her own body were so tight, she said, that she was afraid of lingering for years in a decrepit state, unable to die. ‘how will I leave all these kids and things and go?’ She lamented. She feared that after her body died she would remain emotionally shackled nearby as a ghost.”

                                            White Saris and Sweet Mangoes, Sarah Lamb

I like Sarah Lambs writting because it’s not too technical and not to literary. Its enjoyable to read and teaches you alot in a very few sentances.

S.Catoe