I pushed that boundary today. I went to a slum that to me is special and I walked around while it was abuzz with activity as the sun was finally out and people were coming out of their little houses to warm themselves up. Yesterday which was probably the coldest day of the year so far, many may have remained inside for warmth, inside their hovels, their cardboard frames, their tarpaulin slung over two pieces of corrugated metal. The slum is built on the corner of two highways, perched on a hill, brimming with people too poor to go anywhere else but in that squalor and the misery of their unbelievable poverty is also their hope for life and their determination against all odds to create even out of this a place called home. The homes are decorated with bright colours and painted with flowers. There are children playing in the dust and women putting the clothes out to air. Men sit smoking or playing cards and dogs, well this one in particular, is loved and looked after and found its own place called home, dressed for the cold and lying in a metal pot warm from the sun.
