Cows

The two main tribes of South Sudan are the Dinka and the Nuer.  They both love their cows.  Complimenting a Dinka's cow is like complimenting an Englishman's new car; it is expected.

These Dinka and the Nuer don't really get on (cf. the English and the Scots, Americans and Canadians etc) and a Dinka likes nothing better than nicking cattle off his Nuer neighbour, which as you can imagine winds him up up something rotten.

They don't tend to eat their prize cows, although they might sacrifice one on a special occasion like a wedding, a funeral or Superbowl Sunday.  They don't even drink their milk much; they just like making them look pretty in a kind of giant version of My Little Pony.  I'm told that some even purse their lips and blow up the cow's bottom in the believe that this will improve the calibre of its milk, although if I've tasted the result I can't say I've been impressed.  You'd be amazed at how hard it is to get fresh milk in this land of cattle.

Anyway, cows are important as a measure of a man's wealth.  If I had a lot of cows, my neighbours would respect me and chicks would dig me.  I wouldn't be able to get married until I could provide a decent number towards the total heads of cattle that my male relatives put together as a bride price.

This bride price of course means that girl babies are useful as money spinners a few years down the line, all the more so if they turn out to be easy on the eye.  This makes a novel and pleasing change from the more popular idea in the developing world that it's better to have boys than girls as they are more effective water carriers and more likely to be able to give mum and dad the odd handout in their dotage.

Cows in the road.  Rule one: don't run the damn things over.