“Now you’ve gotten me confused,” the pretty German girl held his hands and laughed. “What is the difference between Yamalasi and Myamalasi and ... Wayamalasi?” She mimicked her companion’s soft accent, making the syllables flow elegantly over her tongue with remarkable accuracy.
He was a student at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, a Myamalasi from the new urban class that had benefitted the most from Barak Zanji’s policies; he was educated and well-travelled. His parents, wealthy professionals living in the most exclusive neighbourhood in Masab at-Teen, the Yamalasi capital, were pleasantly surprised when their son returned for the holidays with his German fiancée.
He had shown her the sights, treated her to the delicious cuisines from all the cultures and communitie
