The school is two blocks from La Coure de Hamdallaye. At seven-thirty in the morning, they set off at the eldest's command. Ten minutes along those cobbled, red, clayey streets with their lateritic crust, dodging the occasional sewage-filled stream that crosses the path. Ten minutes they spend singing, each one keeping an eye on the others. It's impossible for a child to fall behind without the one walking beside them noticing. Discipline is in …
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