A bridge is a feat of engineering -- but also a symbol of connection.
I used to go jogging along a trail in Maryland where a rickety-looking one-lane wooden-and-steel bridge crossed over railroad tracks to create a tie between two neighborhoods, a historic Black community called Lyttonsville and a neighboring white community. It was built 100 years ago and according to the local parks department: "provided Black residents access to employment, shopping, and recreational opportunities unavailable in Lyttonsville." Due to its "deteriorating" condition, the bridge, which "represents a historic connection between the segregated communities," was demolished but will be replaced.
Creating that kind of access is part of the mission of a charity called Fika -- Swahili for "arrive." They build bridges. In the past few years they've constructed 96 bridges made of concrete and cables in remote, hilly parts of Rwanda. A new study shows that these simple pedestrian bridges do exactly what the Lyttonsville bridge did: They bridge a gap but do so much more. Rwandan settlements on opposite sides of a river or gorge may not have a school, a clinic, a bustling market. A bridge that costs about $100,000 opens up new worlds.
Correspondent Fatma Tanis and photographer Claire Harbage crossed one of those bridges.
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