At the river, I was speechless. Men and boys paraded frantically from small ships to weight scales with baskets of white grainy material atop their heads. I soon realized this was salt and that this patch of riverfront was where it was unloaded, weighed, and initially processed. Nobody was screwing around. It was like watching leaf-cutter ants moving with military speed, discipline, and precision. I had to watch my step to avoid being trampled.
There’s one surefire way to gum up the works—take out a camera and start firing away. Everyone wanted in, much to the dismay of those on a tight schedule. Men hauling salt. Men weighing salt. Men bathing in the filthiest water you could imagine…
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