DIAW

by Angelique Muller (Mali)

Making a local connection France

We sat there in uninterrupted silence for a moment that equaled to eternity… looking at the sea, rocked by the sound of crashing waves throwing a veil over his tears, I, lost for words … Diaw’s dark skin glimmered in the sun as he plowed the sand relentlessly in a ‘lost in advance’ battle against the sea… just like kids like to challenge the tide and run not to get their feet wet. He buried piles of plastic the sea had brought back to shore - knowing that in a few days - hours perhaps they would be uncovered and taken back for a trans-Mediterranean trip. I stood up - interrupting Mauro’s meditation - and he followed almost mechanically. Diaw continued to plow the sand - undeterred. Wouldn’t it make more sense to carry the plastic out of the beach? I asked. Are you going to buy me a donkey? He replied… He paused and looked around. Do you see anyone else picking garbage on this beach? I didn’t. People don’t seem to care. But I live here. He said pointing at a little beach shack made of makeshift wood and coronated iron covered in leaves… And I can’t bear to look at it. So every morning when I wake I walk a kilometer to the right and one to the left - I collect what I can and burry it - that way I don’t see it - and for what it lasts, I can paint beauty again. His shack was filled with colorful paintings - desert horse riders and fishermen. We shared a cup of tea as bitter as death as we sat cross-legged. Mauro burst out in tears again as he stared at a small black and white photo of his grandmother who has passed the same morning. Diaw rinsed the cups and poured a second tea - sour as life can be. He reached the photo and pinned it to a plank. As the sun was setting, he reached for his colors. By the third tea - which was sweet as love can be - her face had come back to life and seemed to smile at us in the candlelight. I squeezed Mauro’s hand and we sat there in uninterrupted silence for a moment that equaled to eternity…