Still Picture

The journey started around mid morning and lasted about one hour. Once we reach the end of the tarmac road its pretty bumpy but at least the car had good suspensions. Ahead of us an endless blue sky with some scattered clouds.

the panorama is arid best described as a sea of alternating patches some are dry and yellow vestiges of vegetation, then there are the dark burnt esplanades bearing the corpses of what was once trees, then there are the red dashes where shy bushes covered in a thin red layer of dry mud become an extension of the bed in which they lie... and then there's the hopeful green space with trees, bushes and bamboo that have overcome the heat and the "terre brulée... Mountains piercing the surface and joining together the earth and the sky ... Life perseveres

Halfway through our journey to Sherkole I can't help but to realise that if it weren't for the burnt land and some sporadic circular bamboo and mud huts which blend in perfectly with the arid surroundings, you could very well think yourself thrown back in time... but as we approach the camp location more trees seem to have kept their foliage and one finds oneself back in reality...

Looking around I can't help but to feel in a movie. The white Land Cruisers driving past raising a trail of dust in the air, with some logo on the door; the humble constructions, people colourfully dressed trading along the side of the road... This is probably 100 times (if not more) better than the conditions some refugees live in other camps or even better than what they'll find upon returning home.

In the afternoon, the sun is high and the heat rises over us all, the time would be ripe for a siesta if the breeze blowing over the camp were cool... As I contemplate the view outside a light cloud of orange dust whirls in the wind. The roaring of the electricity generator fails to drown the birds calling from surrounding trees.

On the journey back, contentedly sitting in the backseat of one of these infamous Land Cruisers, I look out the window. The level of comfort I am travelling in, plus the bubble I am transported into by the music blasting from my earphones... it all clashes with the austerity I see around me. The huts, the dirt road along which children walk accompanied by small donkeys, the women carrying loads of wood...

One would never guess to find so much, to absorb the richness of the scenery... Amidst the dryness, and man-made/maintained human misery there is beauty; that is if you choose to see it and dare I say, enjoy it?

Frannie