Only the flames from the fire light the cooking shelter, where Berthe is patting the gauze, carefully folded over the top of the pot of piping hot corn rounds, steam wafting up and out into the black night.
She started with peanut butter, milled corn flour Eduard went into town to break down, and a tub of dried baobab fruits. It has been a few hours and evening has turned to night, and there's a good hour left before she will mix and transform all the ingredients into a warm, peanut, sweet elixir that is the best thing I've had here in Senegal in a month.
There's one torch light in the house, and we are using it to focus, to cook and for a makeshift photo light.
We aim it down on the couscous, and make our own Hollywood lighting, Djibonker style in the Sagna extended family household ... I love how found lighting portrays the everyday as it is: Art.