Between walls and barriers, the families of the prisoners and those of the sick share the same internal exile. The silence, the waiting, the lack of consideration. At the gates of prisons as in the courts of hospitals, the matinees resemble each other. At dawn, silhouettes are drawn in the penumbra, pressed against each other, a bag in hand, a gleam of hope in the eye. The files lengthen slowly, marked by fatigue and uncertainty. Under a burning sun or a raining rain, women are patient, mothers, wives, in most cases, the arms charged with food, a necessary toilet, clean clothes, a small stock of milk, coffee, fruits.
Chronique de l’improviste les oubliés des couloirs: Between walls and walls, the same cry by Henriette Niang Kandé
