Little Story | The Photographer

This story is reported to me by one of my friends... It is not a story though...
It is a sort of cliche of lifestyle in deep campaign of Madagascar. It makes me think of these old characters of tales as you can see in Asterix comics.
When I was a child, in my little village, there were some men who brought the fun with them.
The Crazy
This man, in my opinion, was deeply addicted to marijuana but he made us laugh a lot when he came to the village. He used to sing his songs, colored with his own melodies and sang in his own language. A language which, in fact, meant nothing but a sort of well-arranged sounds.
He came every Wednesday afternoon which was our weekly day of rest (no school actually).
If we gave him coins and a lot of applause, he sang for us during one hour... Good melodies anyway and when I grew up, I finally understand the meanings of some of his songs... Sex over and over :)
The Photographer
This one was very interesting... Do you know how people get photographed when there was no photolab in 250 km around? But why do they need photos? Of course, for many reasons... During ceremony like wedding, or baptism or funerals... Actually, one of the most important reason is the ID card and for the children, the ID school card. These cards are always required when you get to be married, or when your children must participate to their official exams like baccalaureate or CEPE (to validate the primary courses).
This man came every Saturday with his camera and when came back a week later, you must be sure that he had developed your photos. We did not even know that he came from 350 km away and did this trip by his own means to try to help people and to bring to them a little wind of progress... He was one of our heroes...