Two days after I posted about Dina, the little slave girl in my neighborhood who I'd been feeding regularly, I was at home in the evening when I heard a timid knock on the door. I opened to find Dina holding a bowl of soup. "I made dinner for you, Kez," she smiled shyly.
It was a simple bean soup with plaintain and dumplings. I don't like beans (just ask my mom), but that soup was delicious. I think joy gave it a stronger flavor than the beans.
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