Cartwheeling in Thunderstorms
WILHELMINA KNEW THAT THERE WERE some houses that had glass in every window and locks on the doors.
The farmhouse in which she lived was not one of them. If there was a key to the front door, Wilhelmina had never seen it. It was likely that the goats that wandered in and out of the kitchen had eaten it. The house was at the end of the longest of the farm roads in the hottest corner of Zimbabwe. Her bedroom window was a square space in the wall. During...