Bangladesh's children learn that ships are not eternal. They wear out over time. That the metallic brightness of the roof disappears and that their high chimneys threaten to rush into the sea that for so many years were flag.
Bengali children sit in the sand - stained with oil and tar covered - to witness the arrival of the old merchant ships that, from all the seas of the world and auctioned in Singapore, come to die on the solitary beaches of Chittagg.
Children know that, in just a few hours, they will have the obligation, as well as the elderly, to start destruction, centimeter to centimeter, from that large block of lifeless steel that will remain tied for more than seven months.
Day by day, the great dead ship will cease to be a perfect colossal shape and will become meters and meters of steel. Old and spent but still useful.
From it will obtain tools and elements of construction, spoons and knives, replacement parts for cars and bicycles. Vital elements for life in that country that is maintained, year after year, as one of the poorest on the planet.
Bangladesh's children get tired of hard work under the strong sun. But they are not exhausted. The light of a joy that seems inexhaustible shines in them.
They are heard laughing between hammer blows. They can be seen run from here to there, attending to the demands of the elderly. Small indefatigable ants in an incessant activity.
When I approach them, won by grief and admiration, they smile and greet me. They welcome me in silence. Happy to be able to stop for a few minutes in front of my camera.
Before continuing your relentless activity and disappear quickly in the center of total agitation.
Pepe Navarro
