The old bicycle man in Kenya, carrying milk, charcoal, wood and newspapers; his face a blur to almost everyone except his family at home. Each day, they wait for his return. Exisiting between the old world and new, with a full view on Kenya’s evolution, he is a voyeur. From rural to metropolis, past to future, quietly he observes the world. Drivers honk their horns and charge the streets. They curse the bicycle man in the way of their important business. Composed, he swings over, let’s them pass. Even shaken, his foot knows the road. He’s learned which urban battles to wrestle; few are worthwhile.
Add a Comment