Thursday 13 March 2007
I sleep outside on a cot made of woven plastic rope, under a mosquito net hidden away by thick straw mats unable to see the stars.
My nighttime sleep weaves in and out of dreams of Africa and home.
My 30 some Catholic neighbors renting a courtyard until Easter are undergoing training before being baptized and they are loud: babies, chatter, and dinner. When they become quiet, the singing and drumming of choir practice at the Protestant chapel take over. Then the silence is broken by a random motorcycle, a bicycle that seems to stop at my gate, the loud action movie at the cinema hut, the thumping of the dance club. Then the loud braying of donkeys shatter the quiet, then the dogs, the guinea hens, the roosters, and then it is time for breakfast.
School starts at 7 am.
I’m in Africa, a dream soundtrack of a waking reality.
Silly us, complaining about the 5 am prayer call in Guinea.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
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