It’s exactly 12 noon. A little boy bursts out of the teachers’ room holding a heavy iron bell and rings it. The chime of redemption? Not quite. Immediately afterward the doors of the five classrooms open and dozens of boys and girls spill out of them. Schoolbags on their backs, most of them wearing corona masks, they walk in a line down the slope of the verdant valley to their homes – in tents. One “privileged” boy has a ride waiting for him: a mule that’s tied up nearby. He’s from one of the neighboring pastoral communities.