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“What's that smell?" [my mother] shouted.

"Biogas, it's-"

"It's horrible!"

By now the plastic was rumbling like mad, ready to blow. I had to act quickly. It was time to remove the reed and proceed with ignition.

I reached over and quickly popped out the reed, and when I did, a pipe of silver steam came rushing out the top. My mother was right, it smelled vile. I'd set aside a long piece of grass, so I grabbed it now and poked it into the fire, catching a flame.

"Stand back!" I shouted. "This could be dangerous."

"What?!"

I stood up and ran to the door, pushing my mother aside. With half my body shielded by the door frame, I stretched out my arm, inching the flame closer and closer.

"Here it goes," I said.

I touched the fire to the piping stream, clinching my eyes to shield them from the flash. But when the flame touched the gas, all it did was sputter and die. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was a piece of grass, dripping with foul water. My mother was furious.

"Look what you've done; you've ruined my best cooking pot! Boiling goats' poop, I can't believe it. Wait until I tell your father..."

I wanted to explain that I'd done it for her sake, but I guess it wasn't the right time.”
― William Kamkwamba