A boy was born to a savage people. His mother wrapped him in blankets and she, with her chili-scented breath, spoke his name. The boy was called Ansu and immediately after he was wrapped up and warm, his mother pulled out her knife and sliced a thin line across his cheek to show him that there was nothing truly good in this world and that he could never expect kindness, happiness or love. And because she knew that love did not exist, she abandoned him to the North where he was born and she was lost, before slipping away to find where she had come from.
Ansu's mother was one of the Southern people. They were a violent people--the hot air bred in them an insatiable craving for war and the Southerners always fought amongst themselves. They were divided and all any of them could taste was hate. Mothers did not love their children and fathers seldom knew they were fathers. This was what life was and everyone knew it, so they