Sometimes I wake up

Amelia and Mama
Originally uploaded by mchughtie.

Sometimes I wake up to the Imam calling prayer, long before my body is anywhere near ready to move itself in an upward direction, and I think, "Oh yeah, I live in Africa now." My second thought is often, "What is crawling on my leg?" or "Is that a baby crying, or a goat?" I give my mind some time to re-form, to recognize my surroundings, to connect to my limbs and senses, and wait for some other sign of morning as I know it, be it light, rice pounding, the sound of the pump. There's no sense in missing the sunrise when you're already awake, so I usually pull myself out of my netted cocoon, coax the spiders out of my sneakers, and make my way out of the village. My neighbors yell to me as I pass, greeting me in no less than four languages. They've been up for hours, praying, working, trying to keep ahead of the sun. Still, I'm a curiosity, going out just to go, no bucket or bundle or machete in tow, just me, roaming, me, trying to sneak away for a bit, looking for that perfect space in the day when no one notices the Toubab brushing past on her way to nowhere. It's a strange hobby, being an individual in a communal society.