Picking poems in the world, silhouette Africa——
"Memories of the Pocket People's Village Visit"
Dust breaks the road and is devastated by heat,
I also saw the sand village family idle.
Strange genes have been passed down for hundreds of generations,
The pocket tribe has passed thousands of levels.
The grass nest has been poor for a long time,
The mud house is newly covered with anxiety.
Reaching out to a child is not a guest,
Who knows how many mountains I hope for.
Postscript: I once traveled in Uganda, Africa, and met three pocket people, namely Pygmies. According to reports, the average of this race is only about 1.3 to 1.4 meters, and I can't imagine that the dwarf country that I heard from adults when I was a child actually exists, and I have seen it with my own eyes. This time I was in the Central African Republic, and I met Pygmy again, but this time I met dozens of people and visited the small village where they lived.
The Pygmies are endangered in the world, revering forests, hunting for men and gathering for women, and property is collectively owned. Today, governments have taken steps to help them change their lifestyles and participate in modern life. However, the vast majority of pygmies are still attached to their ancestors' way of life and prefer to continue to live a closed primitive life.
In the small village we visited, in the semi-desert woods, the grass nests where our ancestors lived are no longer inhabited, and they have lived in low mud houses, but the poverty is still there. Children seem to have no formal education, some are poorly clothed, looking at visitors from all directions, and doing nothing. The group does not intermarry with foreigners, and early marriages are normalized, resulting in girls holding children. Adults dance when tourists come, which is also considered a kind of income. In short, where to go from here, giving the impression that there is little hope.
P.S. The first time I saw the Seven Laws written by the Pocket Man.
Rwanda: Poems about Meeting the Pocket People
The legend is true when I was a child,
眼前老少却难分。
The river of history is vast and impermanent,
Humans have a special population.
Attention always belongs to the handsome,
Keep an eye out for the rare Pocket King.
Energetic dignity in,
Preference for deep mountain colorful clouds.
(Photo by the author, Figure (6) was taken in Uganda a few years ago)
