another note

My friends:

I write from N’djemena. A few minutes ago, the wind blew through the office doors, overturning piles of papers, carelessly left unanchored. The monstrous green leaves on the tree within my sight struggled to fly off the branches this way and that, and the sky darkened to a deep grey. Then droplets fell steadily from the heavens. And during the next few seconds…the sun emerged. The office is an empty shell since most of the staff have left to prepare for Friday prayers.

Tonight, we will move to the new guesthouse. Though it is difficult to post photos, I will try to describe the situation. The house has two stories and contains four bedrooms and four bathrooms. There are gaudy glass chandeliers left from the previous owner, a couple of doors near the front entrance covered with leather and decorated with metal studs, two large televisions with silver cable boxes, and a small terrace (easy access for smokers). To look out any of the windows, your eyes will immediately fall upon our neighbors’ houses. Some are made of some sort of cement brick, the majority constructed of mud. Some have pieces of corrugated metal (that may not be the correct term, but I mean to describe the kind of material that is placed on top of sheds). There is a cement wall that separates our property from the rest. A small white satellite sits alone in a corner with its face tilted towards the sky, and the branches of a large bush with tiny green leaves and hot pink flowers smaller than my palm contrasts against the dusty off-white paint of the house.

Existing with limited contact to the outside world is both chilling and peaceful. Also, tellement triste since I cannot celebrate in each moment when I receive word that vrf got a fabulous job, or my friend’s baby celebrated his first birthday, or even missing the planning of life rituals. I find that this solitude also allows for a lot of time to reflect upon my life and how I lead it. For my dear friends, I miss you so.