One walks along a very rough path on the river bank, in between clothes posts and
washing lines to reach a chaotic group of little, one-storied, one-roomed cabins. Most
of them have earth floors, and working, living and sleeping all take place in the one room.
In such a hole, barely six feet long and five feet wide, I saw two beds—and what beds and bedding!—
which filled the room, except for the fireplace and the doorstep. Several of these huts, as far as I could see,
were completely empty, although the door was open and the inhabitants were leaning against the door posts.
In front of the doors filth and garbage abounded. I could not see the pavement, but from time to time, I felt it was
here because my feet scraped it. 6