ABSTRACT
It is dark and smoky inside. She is squatting on the mud floor, stirring the porridge in the pot over an open fire encased by three stones. As a young mother she spends hours every day in her windowless kitchen preparing the ingredients and cooking all the meals for the household while tending to the baby strapped on her back. Silently they endure the smoke. It irritates their eyes and creeps into their lungs while the mother cooks, day after day.
