The cart driver, a short man with sun-chiseled skin, came from time to time to deliver manure to individuals. He drove his cart, pulled by an ox and using a series of sounds, he managed to make himself obeyed by the animal.
He walked alongside his ox, while directing him. Despite his fragile look, we could feel the strength that emanated from him. He was skillful enough to manipulate the ox and spill the contents of the cart into the garden of those who called upon his services. This particular crew made the day of the children, who at this sight, shouted joyfully: "Saret bef! Saret bef!", meaning the ox cart has come.
The cart driver's job was to collect manure and then sell it. He also went to fetch straw and grasses to feed the animal. Long ago, some cart drivers worked for sugar estates. This job was transmitted from generation to generation. Driven by the passion for the ox and the desire to perpetuate the trade, the cart drivers have unfortunately disappeared with the advent of more modern modes of transport.
Lying back on a deckchair, facing the turquoise lagoon of crystal water down in the South West of Mauritius, with an outstretched arm, I liberally applied refined coconut oil on my skinRead more
While occasionally strolling through the cobbled streets of Port-Louis, lined with basalt structured buildings, I am inevitably reminded of the French presence in the city, in the country.Read more
Champs de Mars (oldest racetrack in the southern hemisphere) situated at Port Louis is at its boiling point. Saturday horse racing is in the starting block.Read more