Shadows seem to draw the blood from the sunset, pulling the clouds of darkness from the East. Returning to houses, walkers are guided by rays of light from lanterns peeking through doorways and shutters on to their paths. A chorus carried across the town is returned. Chairs are brought to the street. The mothers sit and watch their daughters.
Boys try to keep in the shadows, children playing tag.
The night becomes alive with chatter kept in the house during the day to hide from the heat. The child holds the water while the uncle packs the tea to the bottom of the gourd. Jasmine spreads its fragrance over the block. Harp music is everywhere, the Guarana or the Polka. It pours out of the houses to float along the streets.