Cow is very useful animal. It gives us milk as the most nutritious food. By using its milk we can prepare many eatable, healthy and tasty dishes. It has its economical use also. By selling its milk and other dairy products (like butter, gee, cheese, khoya, etc), a person can earn money and can be able to fulfil his/her needs. Even Gau-Muttra is used as a medicine. Co-dung is used as a fuel to make fire. Her baby male calf becomes an ox which is very helpful to the farmers. After her death, her skin is used to make leather things such as shoes, bags, belt, etc. By using her bones, we can make many ornaments. So, it can be said that every part of her body is useful to us.
Emily lives with her grandmother Ethel on the outskirts of Lilongwe, Malawi’s capital. Because Ethel works in another family’s home — doing cleaning, cooking and child care — her extended family of nine rises before 6 . to eat breakfast together before they disperse to work and school. Here, Emily is eating cornmeal porridge called phala with soy and groundnut flour; deep-fried fritters made of cornmeal, onions, garlic and chiles, along with boiled sweet potato and pumpkin; and a dark red juice made from dried hibiscus flowers and sugar. (She is fortunate; half of the children in Malawi are chronically malnourished.) When she can, Emily likes to drink sweet black tea in the mornings, a common beverage for Malawian children.
I suspect the house we’re renting is haunted. Last night I dreamed my husband was carrying a blond child about three years old. The child was crying. I took the child in my arms but could not comfort her. Then at around 5 am I heard someone say “Mother,” clearly and out loud. The sound woke me up. I looked at the clock and then at my sleeping husband thinking how strange it was that I’d never heard him talk in his sleep before and how funny it was that he’d said “mother.” Just as I was dozing off, I heard the word “Mother” again. It was not my husband’s voice. I heard whispering in what seemed like the next room. I sat up in bed and put my ear to the wall that separated our bedroom from the room our boys were sleeping in—all quiet. And neither of them has ever called me “mother.”