- Vol. 04
- Chapter 11
I watch. I see all the people passing by. I am here sunrise to three, everyday. I guess they don’t look for me. Just another dark-skinned, sat about. I wonder if anyone notices me, wonders about what I am thinking?
I glance around. Not so many folk here today. Saving themselves for the morrow, market day. I guess they’ll only come out for essentials on a Tuesday. Those that do pass by, do they notice me at all? I don’t think I am so inconspicuous, dressed as I am, but maybe my dress is as they expect.
What would happen if I were to change my garb? Stand in a provocative manner? Would they react differently? Would they notice me at all? I shall try it someday. But not now. I have work to do presently.
When I leave I will walk the dusty path back up the hill, around the big rock to my homestead. After siesta in the freshly laundered sheets, the second part of my day begins.
I take out my laptop and I write. I write all the stories I have seen today, all the stories I haven’t, and all the stories I’d like to see. The story about Maria Consuela and her top marks in science this week; about Conchita and Nancy setting up the new business, inspite of the lack of support from Manuel Aldogan. I write about the new enterprise which reduces the fuel needed to power the cooking stoves. About the new irrigation ideas that are being talked about in the market, but not in the press.
I write my stories and I store them up. At the end of this month I will publish them all. They will be spread across the nation. These women will get their recognition. I am known, elsewhere. Once I have succeeded in this endeavour, maybe I will change my garb. Until then, the man in the red blanket gets all the attention, and I lean on the wall and take note.