The streets lend themselves to sub-communities where varying industries congregate . A row of houses in one street host a number of small yards containing chicken coops , another has cows , and one two rows back saw a number of women , of all ages , eagerly knitting . Wherever one turns there is something to see , to become a part of .
A battered steel cup was thrust into my hand , the clear liquid , slightly oily , had a familiar aroma . My questioning look gave away my concern .
“ Whisky ,” the lady who had handed me the drink suggested although it was like no other whisky I had ever had the pleasure of consuming . She nodded , confirming what she had just said , I questioned with my eyes , and she motioned to take a drink .
Good God ! It was bloody awful , yet I was in no position to offend , I took another quick swig hoping to finish the contents in one mouthful , a hope that was thrust back at me as I struggled to keep the liquid down . I smiled at the woman , and she offered more , I shook my head and she laughed .
Inside her home a strange scene
TRAVERSE 140