"Where are all the women?" Timothy asked.
Isabel snorted. "At home, making roti," she said. "Cooking food, washing clothes."
"Oh, there's a woman!" Timothy said.
"You sometimes see the women," she said. "But you will see many more men."
The rickshaw took a steep dive into what looked like an alcove, but opened up into an alley. They buzzed along until they couldn't go any farther.
"Now we walk," Isabel said.
They paid the driver and left the rickshaw, backpacks on again. Timothy was lightheaded from lack of sleep. Everything was violent, the sun, the dust, the people everywhere. It crashed around his ears, shaking his brain. Finally they stepped out of the small alleyway and into a quiet courtyard. A man jumped up from a plastic chair.
"Namaste, Didi!" he said. "Welcome!"
"Namaste,
