Danialou Sagbohan - "Viva, Femme Africaine". Jelly rolls home from work, to his picnic houseboat which bobs and bobs, full of potted plants and banquet. His wife is gorgeous and very smart, whipcrack smart, stupid smart, and she is icing a cake. "Jelly!" she says. "You home!" Although she is brilliant her English is only so-so. Jelly met her in Benin, when his houseboat bobbed on down. He spied her from the deck, through a telescope. "Holy moly," he said, "wouldja look at that specimen." It was lust that first drew him to her. But their minds met later, on their second date, at a dusty library in Porto-Novo. She knew the names of every colour, ten thousand ways to shimmy. Jelly worked in the paint industry; although he was not a shimmier he came from a long line of shimmiers, had been named for his grandfather, one of the greatest shimmiers of all; he fell hard. They were married under white blossoms, beside a lowing cow, and then Jelly's wife returned with him to the picnic houseboat and they bobbed away into ever-after. Now the boat is moored beside a small English village, where there is only one skyscraper - a skyscraper dedicated to paint. Jelly works all day and then rolls home at night. "Jelly!" his wife yells. "You home!" And then she teaches him a thing or two, and he tries to make her laugh, and he inwardly thanks the river currents and ocean currents and lucky winds that brought two people together, lusciously. [from 1978 / out of print]