Diners line up at local hotely for breakfast
The stringy little boy nestles next to his granny under the tarp. Last night they set up behind a non-descript hotely on the side street around the corner from the Alliance Francaise complex. They were begging on the corner last night, well into the dark morning hours, as hundreds of bar-hopping revelers streamed past them without a glance. Popular neighborhood karaoke bars competed with the thumping speakers of the all-city block party held on the central boulevard, just past the Carrefour supermarket. The promise of an almighty hangover only seemed to extend the party until, finally, the generators run out of electricity.
A hotely on the way to the market
When Joslyn arrives to open her hotely for breakfast, the revelers had just left a few hours ago. She recognizes the tiny, huddled frames under the tarp in the back. Her hotely is supported by a few odd boards with pieces of tin nailed together as a roof. As customers stream in and out of Joslyn’s place, she will set a bowl of white rice and weak coffee on the ground for the woman and child.
I walked by this scene every day, unprepared for their consistent schedule. Impossible to guess their ages, the boy underdeveloped due to his diet of rice and coffee, and the woman is prematurely aged for the same reason. I feel the intensity of their stares when I walk by.
There is little to be said.
