Scoot-Butt

27 Juilliet 2006

Right next to the shady chi-lih (porch) outside my house, a group of
older ladies regularly gather on a mat under a Neem Tree to discuss
god knows what. They're chatty and loud, they make tea, and an
indeterminate number of them may or may not be fictionally related to
me. The one that permanently resides next door we call
'scoot-butt': I've seen her scoot slowly across the ground with her hands
rather than getting up (though I know she can walk). Once, I took a
picture of them all sitting there with my digicam and they got a good
twenty minutes of fun out of pointing out each other on the tiny
screen. -Yes that IS Minetou on the camera, and here she is in real
life! (It's a miracle!) I know I'm purely stroking my own western ego
with delighting my family and friends with American wonders like (no
joke) duct tape, and clip on metal beaners, but I do it anyway. It has
no positive effect whatsoever other than a few minutes of comedy, but
sometimes when you're sitting there being stared at for hours on end,
you can begin to feel a need to entertain.

Today is pretty haami hatte (very hot), and a good majority of last
night's clouds have burned off already. This (only barely) sub-Saharan
sun is a wicked bitch.
Strangely enough, I've barely gotten a tan, excepting my spectacularly
farmer-tanned arms, because only fools and those who have no choice
spend time in the mid-day sun.

Last night, as I was getting ready for bed and brushing my teeth in
the dark street, I walked over to the troupe of young men who were
gathered around a thumping, Usher-pumping boombox 10 meters away. We
were talking, dancing a little and laughing for no more than two
minutes, when Sahab walked over to collect me, and pointed to my
mosquito net as if to say "Go to bed, young man." Well, nevermind that
I'm twenty four and American: "Yes ma'am"