There was one classroom, with one blackboard and a cement floor. A pile of broken desks lay in the back, while the students sat in chairs and on benches. They were quite shy, for I doubt that they have seen many foreigners. When we finally got them to talk, we asked them what they would like to be when they grew up. Doctors, nurses, secretaries.
Life here is tough.
The woman inside the house was a very willing to talk. While she spoke about how she wished there was more work for the women in the village, I looked around the house. It was little more than a cement floor with wooden slabs for walls. The windows were without glass. There was one table in the house, on which sat a pitcher of water, which she offered us, and it may have been all she could offer so many visitors.