When I was six, my mother bought me a cup that was emblazoned with the Zimbabwean Flag on one side. It was a white cup from Kango. I didn't allow anyone to drink from that cup.
There was hell to pay for anyone who dared put his/her lips -- no matter how shapely -- on its precious rim. And being the last born in a family of six, I always got my way after each tantrum.
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