A week anywhere brings heart warming familiarity, and so it is here. We walk to my last clinic past the staring faces - that broadly smile back when you smile at them. The youngest children play happily and carefree in the ‘street’ amongst the dust, ducks and windswept rubbish, with only a rare honking taxi-jeep to displace them. There are no toys, books and bicycles, nor anywhere to buy them. Some children have a home made sticks and ‘wheel’ (old pot or plate) toy. But there is community & a powerful neighbourly ethos. There is the usual group of men talking at the crossroads, whilst I also pass women scrubbing their shiny steel ‘breakfast’ pots and dishes or bent double in the patchwork fields. The warm sunshine reflects brightly on the brisk broad stream that we step stone-to-stone across, and then we briefly climb to the health centre, greeted by a handful of colourfully dressed patients. The clinic runs smoothly. The broadly smiling, traditionally dressed, 6yr old...
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