The main street of Hibiscus was not big. Paved with flagstones it was wedged between a dozen shops and a few scores of houses. These buildings were so packed together that if one shop stewed dog-meat, the aroma filled the whole street; if some child fell and knocked out a tooth or smashed a bowl, the whole street knew of it; neighbors often overheard the streets girls confided to each other and the jokes between the young married couples, then regaled the whole town with these tit-bits. If brothers fell out or husband and wife came to blows, the whole place was in turmoil as all rushed to intercede. On days when there was no market, people fixed up long bamboo poles between their upstairs windows and those across the street, to sun their clothes and bedding. The wind blowing from the hills made these flutter like flags all the colors of the rainbow. And the clusters of red peppers, golden maize cobs, pale green calabashes and gourds hanging from the leaves formed bright borders on either side 。 Below, people came and went, cocks crowed, cats and dogs padded to and fro—it was a distinctive sight. |