Morning. We passed the huge cycle cart of the young girl collecting plastic waste from the bins. That beautiful girl, hair rolled up in a neat bun. In the colourful long skirt and bead jewelry that her community wears.
And I slowed down. As I usually do. When I see her.
She was sitting on the footpath with an older lady, maybe her mother. Also in the same long skirt and jewellery. The girl was pouring out from a small plastic cover, tea into two small paper cups.
The older woman pulled out some packets of biscuits for the street dogs that surrounded them. The dogs always are around the girl. They follow her cart down the streets. This girl is always surrounded by love. Tangible love.
The girl broke the biscuits and placed them with care on the ground, after sweeping that space. And invited the dogs.
I watched. In awe. As I do each day.
Seeing. The art of giving. The culture of giving. The sacredness of giving.
That I see in my village too.
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