In the 3 seconds that it took to drive past you, I saw something bold and strong and good.
We were making our way down the steep side of the mountain. In our big car, seat belts on, music playing, security of love and provision all around, we were busy trying not to get pushed off the road by the manic drivers in the great hulking buses that seemed to hurl toward us from around every bend.
And we passed you there, just 5 of you, beside your produce stalls, holding life with the calm, fierce resilience that your mothers and grandmothers breathed into you.
Here where the ledge widens and there is room enough to set up, you press out a living from these small shops. This is where the money for your kerosene lamps is made. This is how you feed your babies and keep your older children in school.