In the last post we wrote that we are living a fairly simple life, and that's true, to some extent. We have no vehicle of any kind, we have no hobbies to take us outside the house, and the biggest excitement in the last month was when a valve let go in the bathroom and Laura shouted, "BEN! PLUMBING EMERGENCY!" I live for such excitement.
Last night I was walking home in the twilight, stepping over sewers, dodging cars and smelling the tang of cooking fires and burning trash. Due to a thermal inversion the smoke was remaining near the ground and it served as reminder of what could be called a truly simple life, without any of the wistful overtones of some imagined golden age.
The two blue tarps you see are each a family's house. In the evening they prop up the bottom near the edge of the sidewalk and sleep under it beside the snarling nighttime traffic. Some of the nicer set-ups have a small slatted bamboo platform about 6 inches off the sidewalk. They cook over a small mud stove and use any wood or leaves they've managed to collect from the neighborhood during the day. I've noticed the grandfather sitting on a bucket reading a newspaper in a dignified manner, but the grandmother has a mental illness: she'll often be amidst a rant to the empty air when I pass by. The rest of the family returns in the evening; they have nothing except a pot, a tarp, a few sheets, a mud stove and a bucket.
There were about 20 of these sidewalk-houses eight weeks ago, but one morning they were all gone. We asked and were told the police had driven them off, but that they would slowly return. Now there are about seven families back along this street in a semi-permanent settlement on the sidewalk.
Last night I was walking home in the twilight, stepping over sewers, dodging cars and smelling the tang of cooking fires and burning trash. Due to a thermal inversion the smoke was remaining near the ground and it served as reminder of what could be called a truly simple life, without any of the wistful overtones of some imagined golden age.
The two blue tarps you see are each a family's house. In the evening they prop up the bottom near the edge of the sidewalk and sleep under it beside the snarling nighttime traffic. Some of the nicer set-ups have a small slatted bamboo platform about 6 inches off the sidewalk. They cook over a small mud stove and use any wood or leaves they've managed to collect from the neighborhood during the day. I've noticed the grandfather sitting on a bucket reading a newspaper in a dignified manner, but the grandmother has a mental illness: she'll often be amidst a rant to the empty air when I pass by. The rest of the family returns in the evening; they have nothing except a pot, a tarp, a few sheets, a mud stove and a bucket.
There were about 20 of these sidewalk-houses eight weeks ago, but one morning they were all gone. We asked and were told the police had driven them off, but that they would slowly return. Now there are about seven families back along this street in a semi-permanent settlement on the sidewalk.
these are such great descriptions of life there. Please keep them coming.
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