Word: huts
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...announced plans to retaliate by publishing his own multi-volume version of the months he and Kidder spent together, including such installments as Cry, the Beloved Tracy. Playing on the titles of Kidder’s most laurelled works, he joked that he would publish more books about Haiti: Hut for Kidder’s House and Slum for his Hometown...
Ghotair sits in her dingy hut in Kandahar, nursing one of her four children and slapping another who is wailing for attention on the mud floor. Orphaned at an early age, Ghotair was married to a cousin because, in war-torn Afghanistan in the early 1990s, no girl was safe unwed. At 24, Ghotair has been married 12 years and her husband, a pickup-truck driver-when he finds work-can barely support the family. Asked to describe her life, Ghotair smiles, but her answer is somber: "Finding bread to eat during the day, sleeping at night and looking...
...Rangina gets a warm reception at Ghotair's lane. Children playing outside alert their mothers and elder sisters. Clad anonymously in the customary blue-pleated hijab, they head for Ghotair's hut, carrying shawls and tablecloths they have embroidered. Behind the dirty rag that serves as a front door, they give Rangina their work, for which she pays from the ngo's funds. (They are sold through a loose network of friends and family back in the U.S.) "It has changed our lives," marvels Ghotair. "We can get clothes for our children and milk powder for the babies." She points...
...owes $2,300. (He has agreed to write off $450 in exchange.) Rangina hears the story in horror. She admits to suffering from what returning Afghans ruefully refer to as "survivor guilt," wondering how she escaped the horrors that still enslave her new friends. As she leaves Ghotair's hut, pushing through the dirty rag, she sighs: "There is still...
...Finally, get primitive at Banpo Beer Hut, tel: (86-10) 6525 5583, the little grotto that can. Named for the Neolithic settlement outside Xi'an, this underground pub on central Wangfujing Street is so bad it's great. Sip a Tsingtao on the heated platform beds, necessitated by the chilly air-con. The friendly staff is in on the joke, hyping the primordial kitsch while urging you into the karaoke cave. Chest thumping accepted; hair pulling discouraged...