Jan 19 2009
The Resettlement Area
I had just visited my uncle when I passed through a resettlement area. A chain of filthy mud huts stretching for two kilometres greeted me. From these tiny habitations emerged men, women and children in tatters, and above them thick smoke hovered. As I walked, I waved off flies, big green ones, that were feeding on the muddy water. The level of poverty amazed me. My nostrils felt like sneezing because of the pungent smell. “They came here soon after the 2000 land invasion, and each family stays together and bears more children in these huts”, remarked my uncle. Cholera had taken its toll, claiming eleven lives in a week. I shuddered to think why they lived in this filth and how they sustained themselves. Sickened, I passed through, imagining this time bomb ready to explode anytime right here, deep in the countryside.
