Sundays are cooking days. I get up early, go to the market, then prep all of our meals for the week. Here in Freetown, the routine is changing somewhat because I don’t have any way to get to the market. Until my own car arrives in a few months, I have to use motor pool drivers. And since the motor pool falls under my command, I can’t really get on other folks for abusing car privileges if I do so myself. That means no last minute requests, which means that damn, I should have requested a car on Friday.
Rich white girl problems? In a country like Sierra Leone, definitely.
Anyway, back to Sundays.
Every Sunday, I get up, make coffee, and take my iPad out to the balcony to write. There’s something marvelous about watching cities wake up. I like watching taxis and pota-potas collect their first passangers. Motos slowly make their way up the hill my building sits upon, then speed back down once they’ve picked up a passenger. And the view of the city is spectacular.
Eventually, we’re going to have to move. We’ll be in a single family home with a small patio, plenty of furniture, and a bit more space. Our HHE will arrive from the warehouse where it’s currently stored because those of us in temporary housing don’t get our personal effects (yes, as GSO, I’m eating my own dogfood). And I won’t have to worry about the black mold that’s going to take over the apartment during the rainy season.
But damn, I’m going to miss the view.