In the quiet
There is something to be said for a lack of electricity.
With tourist season come and gone, the electricity seems to be going out more frequently. I could be wrong; I haven’t actually been tracking this sort of thing on paper. So when the electricity is out and you’ve eked out the last few minutes from your laptop battery, there’s the age-old question: reading by candlelight or bedtime? For me, bedtime usually wins out. Of course, not really being tired means that staring at the heavens is another good option. The full moon illuminates everything with a rich silver-blue glow.
With the electricity out, the echoing strains of reggae and parties are silenced. Perhaps only a few notes come through from the resorts. This too I find strange since I rarely see any toubabs any more. Of course, I realize this must mean I stand out all the more on my daily commute to work.
There is something to be said for availability.
I was fortunate to have a friend drop by the other day. I asked the reason for the visit — “Because everyone in your house has left. You are alone.” In a continent where relationships and community are essential and so highly valued, I realized I have found my own “family” here.
“African men are all the same.” A repeated sentiment by a few women during an afternoon visit. Despite relationships and community being highly valued in general terms, there are times when this doesn’t start at home. These women have both had difficult marriages. One is older, with grown children my age; the other with a very young daughter.
As stories were shared, advice given and prayers said, there were so many emotions running through their faces. Women of such strength and determination. That deep, deep desire to ensure their children do not have to face these same difficulties. The resilience to find another way.
