Songs of Strangers

Come hear the music moving the hot air out of the way through the village on this Friday. Come see the hips in colored skirts swaying to the beat under the loads on their heads as they saunter down the path. Sit here and eat your fill of mishkaki beef skewers, rice and cooked leaves while the smoke from many a cooking fire swaths your senses. Meet these hard working people, this one wants to be your friend hoping you will pay for his school, this one to get you home with him on a lunch break and that one just maybe to be your friend just because? Smile at those who scowl in swahili at you and sneer, and also at this young stranger girl who comes without a word to hold your hand and walk with you for a while before departing in silence on your way into towbnn. Miss home, make meals last long. Compare, but not too much. Make sense, but not all the time. Believe you are here for some reason other than just the ones you made up. Hope you can remember everything. Send pieces of your heart home to your loved ones accross the wavelengths of the world and hope that somehow, they can hear the music too. Happy Friday