30 paces from my front door I have a huge rusty gate attached to an 8 foot high brick wall that surrounds the house. Bars on the windows, steel security doors, and watchmen on patrol. I live in a little green, lawned oasis in a dry, dusty, sprawling rural township. This is Africa, they say. The house comes with the job. Relax, you’re safe.
Safe from what? I ask. Is it just robbers that we want to be protected from? or do we want to be protected from the complexities of poverty that has a name, a face and a family… a culture that we don’t understand.
This afternoon after work as I was carrying stuff (including my camera) in from the car I saw one of the neighbours kids closing the gate for me and managed to capture it. For me this picture represents what is locked out- what we lose in the quest for that elusive feeling of ‘safety’.