"Ahhhh cigua, ciguaaaaaa... Ahhh cigua, ciguaaAAA...." Le cri du vendeur de pastèques résonne dès 7h du matin dans le village. Il fait chaud, tres chaud sous les toits et la promesse d'une tranche fraiche en fait sortir plus d'un a sa rencontre. Symbole de l été ici, les pastèques sont partout, empilées a chaque coin de rue a l'arrière d un camion ou a meme le sol.
À 18h c'est le grand rassemblement en bas de chez nous, le vendeur a cette fois des legumes en plus des pastèques et tout le quartier se rassemble. Les femmes soupèsent, choisissent et papotent ; les chiens affairés se faufilent entre les jambes et les tricycles des enfants; les hommes fument une cigarette ; le vendeur sort l argent d un seau rempli de billets de 1 yuan ; une ruche tranquille dans laquelle je me glisse. Dans 15 minutes il ne restera plus rien de cette animation. Lingyin se rendort dans la tiédeur du soir, seuls les chiens restent a lecher les traces de fruits sucrés.
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"Ah cigua, ciguaaaa..." The cry of the watermelon street fruitseller resounds at 7 am in the whole village. It's hot, very hot under the rooftops and the promise of a cool slice entices people up and out early. Watermelons are the symbol of summer here ; shiny green melons can be found stacked at every street corner, on the pavement or at the back of trucks.
6 p.m. pulls in a big crowd in front of our dwelling. The seller has vegetables as well as watermelons and the whole neighbor congregates. The women gossip and look over the produce judging weight and quality; busy dogs run between legs and kids' tricycles; the men smoke; the street vendor puts out a bucket full of 1 yuan bills and I slip into this tranquil beehive. Fifteen minutes later it's over - nothing is left of all this animation. The town of Lingyin goes back to sleep in the tropical warmth of the evening. All that's left are the dogs, licking up traces of sweet fruit.
"Ah cigua, ciguaaaa..." The cry of the watermelon street fruitseller resounds at 7 am in the whole village. It's hot, very hot under the rooftops and the promise of a cool slice entices people up and out early. Watermelons are the symbol of summer here ; shiny green melons can be found stacked at every street corner, on the pavement or at the back of trucks.
6 p.m. pulls in a big crowd in front of our dwelling. The seller has vegetables as well as watermelons and the whole neighbor congregates. The women gossip and look over the produce judging weight and quality; busy dogs run between legs and kids' tricycles; the men smoke; the street vendor puts out a bucket full of 1 yuan bills and I slip into this tranquil beehive. Fifteen minutes later it's over - nothing is left of all this animation. The town of Lingyin goes back to sleep in the tropical warmth of the evening. All that's left are the dogs, licking up traces of sweet fruit.
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