It is 10pm. The clanging of cymbals and beating of drums seem to be getting louder. I am now familiar with the singing. It no longer annoys me, the disharmony. They have to make an honest living and with each note, they win the hearts of the men (and very few women) who frequent the Amini Open Verandah Bar that is right across my flat. I always smile at the preference for apartments. The truth is flat is British for what the Americans refer to as apartments. The bar attendees are a disciplined lot and always retreat to their homes after the local news or some soccer match; okay maybe they linger a little longer for another bottle.
I am still recovering from BOLA 2014 and have not given any attention to soccer updates but from my timeline I figure Wayne Roonie faltered at some point in the game of today. It’s movie night. I’m watching ‘The November Man’ and the action seems to be displeasing to my spirit. I used to live for such movies – the energy, the emotion, the entertainment. I feel sad that I cannot engage with Peter Deberow (the man of the movie). It’s been a rough day but a beautiful one all the same. “There is power in the name of Jesus.” If you have ever heard the version of this song by Tasha Cobbs, you will equally submit.
My thoughts are again distracted by the knocking of another cultural song and my heart eases as I happily sing a long in a tongue that I do not understand. Youssou N’Dour’s ‘7 Seconds’ is one of those albums too you do not need to understand. I continue to sing, wish I could stand for a moment and dance, the couch remains alluring. I think of tomorrow. I cannot wait for it to come. I am meeting one of my ‘besties’. I think of her. Our daily walks from home to school and back. Huddling as we waded through the 1998 El Nino rain storm and trying to come to terms with August 7th. Why? O Why? I remember the days I’d visit her parents and make her look bad and how my folks tried to ambush her with a potential mate. I don’t know how many times I have been unavailable, but for her relationships are sacred. Not in the worship kind of way but in the I-will-always-make-time-for-you kind of way irrespective. I cannot wait for tomorrow. We will celebrate my June birthday. How cool is that for a September going onto October? I feel so undeservingly blessed!
Thankfully ‘The November Man’ is over and I hope that ‘The Son of Batman’ will not disappoint. I hear Professor Lach singing as loudly and as badly as he can. I used to rush to the window to amuse myself with his theatrics. Sounds wrong but when you are new to a neighbourhood, you must understand its politics. I am no longer the (constant) lady by the window but I can for sure tell you that even in his drunken state, the Professor always manages to get his ‘gazetis’ home in crisp condition. It is midnight. Tomorrow has come!