There is that indescribable freshness and unconsciousness about an illiterate person that humbles and mocks the power of the noblest expressive genius.

You see Africa makes a fool of our idea of justice. It makes a farce of our idea of equality. It mocks our pieties. It doubts our concern. It questions our commitment. Because there is no way we can look at what's happening in Africa and if we're honest conclude that it would ever be allowed to happen anywhere else.

Somehow knowing that Alzheimer's is coming mocks all one's aspirations - to tell stories to think through certain issues as only a novel can do to be recognised for one's accomplishments and hard work - in a way that old familiar death does not.