Word: hut
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...eastern highlands of New Guinea, sudden bursts of maniacal laughter shrilled through the walls of many a circular, windowless grass hut, echoing through the surrounding jungle. Sometimes, instead of the roaring laughter, there might be a fit of giggling. When a tribesman looked into such a hut, he saw no cause for merriment. The laugher was lying ill, exhausted by his guffaws, his face now an expressionless mask. He had no idea that he had laughed, let alone why. New Guinea's Fore (pronounced foray) tribe was afflicted by a deadly foe. It was kuru, the laughing death...
Eventually the kuru sufferer is completely helpless, unable to swallow, capable of only slight movement and feeble grunts. In a native hut, he dies of starvation, infected bedsores or pneumonia. At Okapa's hospital, Drs. Gajdusek and Zigas have prevented bedsores, and eliminated starvation as a cause of death by intravenous feedings. And still the patients die. No authentic kuru victim has recovered...
...year when a nve-year-old girl was dragged into the bush near Dodoma, killed, disemboweled and dissected. Soon afterward, local justice learned the reason. A native woman had a grudge against her son because he had thrown her second husband's bow and arrows out of his hut (a grave insult). With the support of her sister, she sent a messenger to hire a lionman from a.sorcerer in the next village. "It was a human being," the messenger told the court, "and it was a woman. It walked like a dog and it sat like...
...small hut on a dry plain near the Adriatic, seventy men are working feverishly to prove to the world that they are the legal government of their republic. On a mountain near the plain near the Adriatic, another hundred men insist they are the true, Communist government for the same republic. Instead of missiles the antagonists are hurling insults, but for all else, San Marino today is a microcosm of the world...
...conquistadors. Into the storm an Indian leans, and with his mattock chops a hopeless furrow which the wind fills silently behind him."Who digs the land,"the Indians say, "digs his own grave." He pauses, arrested in a Mexican Angelus. Somewhere in this howling world, in a bare mud hut, his child is crying in a basket, and by a tiny fire his wife slaps stolidly at a small tortilla that will be his only supper. The heart of the Indian fills with dread. If he cannot make some money soon, they will all starve. If only...