The village across the street

Across the street from my apartment is a small rural village, with shacks, outhouse, goats, chickens, and vegetable gardens. Down the street there is another family living and farming what had been an empty lot. It is a good reminder to me that most of Senegalese are poor and do not live like I do. When it is dark, it is dark in the village, they get up with the sun and the rooster. No electricity, A/C, running water, I wonder what they think of us who live across the street. Do they wonder what our lives are like?

The mother of children across the street is disabled, she crawls on her hands and knees within the immediate area. I see her leaving early each morning in her hand cranked bike-wheel chair. The youngest girl sits on the back and the older daughter walks and sometimes pushes from behind. I say "bonjour Madam, ca va?" to her each time, and she has the most beatific smile as she greets me in return. There is also an boy, about 10 years old, I think.

One day I saw the youngest girl, pushing a partly broken toy wheelbarrow with a very soiled white cloth doll in it. I haven't seen it since. I think about what toy could I get for the child. I wonder if the children go to school.

The first photo shows the water jugs that they refill--I don't know from where. The third photo on the right, I took during a terrfic rain storm. I was intrigued by the child proping up an umbrella as she did the laundry.

I was told that they might not be swatters, they might even be paid a little to occupy the land. I think one of the men does some work for the family next door. I see him opening the garage sometimes and working in their garden. It is a French family that lives in the house, with swimming pool.

A few weeks ago, the French family had a party, and the village seem to be having their own celebration, each with their own traditions. It was quite a contrast.

I don't think the village has noticed me taking pictures from my window--I will continue to document life across the street.