African Ghosts

Richard M. Ankers


The drought from hell. That’s what they called it. So many people, so much hardship, and the sun never once let up.
It was a westerner who had the idea when he saw children covered in flies playing in baked mud. Provide them with netting! he’d declared. That should help.
He was good to his word, too, with fund-raisers and events in all the best cities. All the top people went. It was a triumph over adversity.
When I turned on the television to images of millions draped in white sheeting, I wept. That’s all, wept. African Ghosts, said the headline. But they needn’t be, was mine.

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