Empty

Footsteps echoing in an empty house. The truck left yesterday with everything, Jesse and Tina took away the rest as gifts for their service. Smoke in the backyard, I've been burning everything confidential, bank statements, phone bills, anything with a name or address or account number. Feels like the last days in a conquered city, get rid of everything and pretend to be an innocent bystander. At least there are no bodies to bury.

Jesse took me over to Ilasan to exchange some U.S. Dollars for Naira. Today's rate N156 per dollar, quite a bit lower than recently. The road was worse than ever, gigantic pot holes filled with last nights rain. Some kindly citizens had put sticks in the water to help avoid the deepest places. I will never understand why the vendors in that thriving market don't spend some cash and fix the road. Do they expect people will always come, no matter what the risk of sinking into the mud?

The area boys that normally demand payment of "radio tax" were not around. Jesse informed me that they have been stationed at the one intersection for the past couple of years at least. At least as long as he's been driving oyibos to that market. A steady line of tippers (dump trucks) were coming from the beach side, churning the road into a rich brown muck.

I had been feeling anxious and worried about moving, now I think about that book title, "The Incredible Lightness of Being". I've never read it, but the title suits my mood perfectly. My things are gone, I'm homeless and something is going to happen that is going to happen. I'll get on the plane next tuesday morning and just fly away.

I hear Walnut Creek has a new hardware store. Something to look forward to. This evening I think we should take a walk around the neighborhood.