E chegando-se Abraão, disse: Destruirás também o justo com o ímpio? Se porventura houver cinquenta justos na cidade, destruirás e não pouparás o lugar por causa dos cinquenta justos que ali estão? Longe de ti que faças tal coisa, que mates o justo com o ímpio, de modo que o justo seja como o ímpio; esteja isto longe de ti. Não fará justiça o juiz de toda a terra? Então disse o Senhor: Se eu achar em Sodoma cinquenta justos dentro da cidade, pouparei o lugar todo por causa deles.
"(...) My daughter, she has no use for night runners. You know, her first language is not Luo. Not even Swahili. It is english. When I listen to her talk with her friends, it sounds like gibberish to me. They take bits and pieces of everything - English, Swahili, German, Luo. Sometimes, I get fed up with this. Learn to speak one language properly, I tell them." Rukia laughed to herself. "But I am beggining to resign myself - there's nothing really to do. They live in a mixed-up world. It's just as well, I suppose. In the end, I'm less interested in a daughter who's authentically African than one who is authentically herself." It was getting late; we thanked Rukia for her hospitality and went on our way. But her words would stay with me, bringing into focus my own lingering questions.
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