Dryness, Scaffolding, and Christmas Trees

Williams writes about how she, "traveled along a long narrow dirt road that [cut] through such deep poverty and deadly erosion that whatever solace found there evaporates with the steam." I happened to glance at the words "erosion" and "steam" lower down on the page I presumptuously guessed that she was traveling along a river, but then I read "dirt road." The difference of dirt and water is stark, Rwanda is depicted as a place not of river valleys, but of dirt roads. The dryness is so clearly defined, the dirt being kicked up from the road, the dry air, without a trace of solace to be found; nothing that could wet consoling tongues. She goes on to describe the the children, whose "bones push through transparent flesh like unstable scaffolding." Bones are the structural core of our bodies, our skeleton provides a rigid support structure for the rest of our body; in contrast, scaffolding is intended to be light, weak, and temporary. Scaffolding is supposed to come down, and be replaced by the strong structure of the remaining building, but for these children there is no strong building of bones left in their bodies, only the broken remnants of what they were trying to build with in the first place. The structure of all of Rwanda has been broken down by the genocide that occurred there, leaving everyone with only remnants of themselves. The broken down Rwanda is left with "Hunger [which followed their] vehicle." Williams "shamefully [looked] away. Deforested hillsides [were hung] precariously on the mountains." The fact that Williams used deforested and hung in one sentence made me think of a christmas tree, on which ornaments are often precariously hung. This is a Rwandan christmas tree, deforested hillsides ornamenting the mountains. Williams does her best to keep the holiday spirit with her, but what can she do with hunger tight on her trail?