Irona Tribe

One little girl cried endlessly in the arms of a father who had just taken some buckets of water from the well where people around allowed to get it belong to Mr Bachara the landlord in town , Anwell 's father .

" Don't cry ...shut up...hey ...don't

cry " said that father , embracing his little kid .

" He said my hair is like bird's nest... bird's nest ..."

" Her hair is like the lrona .."

Irona was a remote tribe with dark and so very curly hair.

Why Anwell always found words to insult anyone he wanted ... everyone only could shake their heads ... what's wrong with the look of any tribes on earth ? Beauty is on the beholders..

Mr Buchara approached Anwell , " Look at the little girl..she cried cause you said what ?"

Smirking happily , " Like lrona hair "

" Don't do it ,Anwell ...all hair on earth created by God ..why you insult lrona ? "

Anwell just whistled .

" It's hurting for the little girl, you know .." Willow wished she could shriek loudly ,but ..even to his own dad ' s