It seems I am missing out on an entirely different perspective of Nampula’s streets, the upside down view.

And the only ones to experience this glorious vista of cracked pavements, gaping potholes filled with rubbish and general dirt are the white, semi plucked chickens carried around by their feet on their way home to the cooking pot. I’m not sure I would want this to be my last sight of the world but it would be interesting to see. I could imagine where each and every pair of second hand shoes comes from, think about what that person with the dusty ankles does all day, wonder at the myriad plastic bits and pieces so carelessly tossed onto the roads. It could, in short, tell me a lot about this city and the people who live in it. Because these same dirty streets are the places where people meet and buy and sell and chat and shout and beg and run and preach and eat and play.

It could also warn me of the dangers of dirt and grime and potential parasites, a clear indication of the importance of washing hands, feet, food and mind thoroughly each and every day.

But to those poor chickens who have lived a life long enough to become food and stock are the ones to be washed. Pity their last thoughts (if chickens can think) will be so contaminated.