To the left and right, the tall bush was blanket in golden honey-coloured sun, for the orange ball of light in the sky was softly laying on all it touched; cicadas buzzed, crickets chirped, and the sound of children’s laughter and joy rang from the nearby village that felt a universe’s length away. While walking, three young men were returning from work in the fields, chuckling and chatting with each other. “On jarama!” said Jamie. “Jam tan” was responded.
“Tana alla?”, “Jam tan”, warm greetings are always shared, no matter the person’s circumstances. Where I am from, many desire to be rich in pieces of paper; here everyone is rich in hope, simplicity, and love. As we furthered into the walk, we came alongside three women beautifully robed, effortlessly gorgeous. The oldest of the three was balancing a paint pot full to the edge with a food of some sort for transport back to the village; the ease displayed is that of a tightrope walker not paying mind to the thought of dropping, blissfully smiling along the journey.