Raining rats and frogs
Last week, the rains began to slow. Then there were three dry days. Everyone said the wet season was coming to an end. This was a relief as I’m desperate for the cement floor of our new house to dry out. I spoke to my neighbour, the wonderfully monikered Sherrif Mane.
“Is it true, the rains have stopped?”
“Yes” he replied, “the wet season has finished. But it will carry on raining for some time”.
Oh…best not bother asking and just wait patiently. Sure enough, the next day, a huge black cloud appeared, high winds nearly bent the palm tree heads to the floor and there was a downpour for the rest of the day. The water level once again rose to ground level and I constantly felt as if I’d sink as I walked gingerly around my land.
This may surprise you, but Abene has a branch of Ikea. It’s called the jungle and I went shopping last week with my machete. A couple of days later and I’ve built us a wardrobe. Come to think of it, that’s quicker than some of the flat packs I’ve put together. It may not be to everyones taste, but I’m pleased and like the rustic look:
One of the main reasons I loved Brighton so much was the people I met. Without fail, all of my friends there do interesting, odd and different things – places like Brighton attract the dreamers, the crazies, the weirdos and others who want something else. It’s the kind of place where you discover your carpenter is in fact an improvisational comedian. I met bat specialists, rocket scientists, olympic ice skaters, novelists, Freddie Mercuries dresser, musicians, hoola hoopers, drummers, internet entrepreneurs, cantankerous academics, Guatemalan revolutionaries, psychologists, a young chap with a waxed moustache, trans-Atlantic sailors and many more.
So, here in Africa, I feel at home hanging out amongst the wonderful Senegalese people, Guinean shark fishermen, escaped French convicts, a man who flew here in a tiny plane from New Zealand, camel specialists, foreign legionnaires and a woman I met crossing the Sahara on a space hopper. I spent last Saturday discussing conspiracy theories with a hip-hop video producer from Cape Verde and during the week we cooked lunch for an Italian jazz trumpeter – never a dull moment!
The Little Baobab
The little baobab hasn’t grown very much, so it doesn’t look like it’s going to make our name obsolete too soon. As an insurance policy, we will be planting a couple more little baobab’s which Khady’s mother has offered us. I’d hate for our single little baobab to die!
All websites change and get updated. Usually this is really annoying – just as you have got used to a site and know where everything is, they redesign it and everybody grumbles. Then a year later, you look back at the old version and think how ancient it looks.
Travels with my Shirt will soon be updated to be called “The Little Baobab”. It will be advertise our guesthouse and tours but the shirt blog will continue within the site. It’s a lot of work, especially when I’m only online for an hour or two a week, but I hope to relaunch this later in the year. Watch this space.