I’m sitting outside our room, in the shade, on a rock, while Elli and Desiré are still sleeping inside. Just now, moments ago, when I opened my laptop, I found a dead mosquito cushed against the edge of the screen. I must have unknowingly killed it when I used my computer last. I can’t remember when that was. Not yesterday. That was the most intensive day yet of my fieldwork here in Burkina.
There are lizards running around on the walls. Somehow, they seem bigger than the ones they had at Chez Tess. I don’t understand how gravity allows them to just sit still on a wall, watching, not falling down. There are also two small white hens gallavanting around in the yard. A skinny kitten just walked past. That’s the kind of guesthouse that we’re living in.
I think I hear people shouting and honking horns and blowing in whistles and talking in megaphones and the sounds come in waves, like they would if they were screaming SLAGORD. I imagine it’s the sounds from the manifestations, but it could just as well be the general noises from the city. It’s hard to tell.
We might be grounded here for safety reasons, having been told by basically our entire network of contacts in Burkina that we shouldn’t leave our hotel today, but I must say that for me personally, it couldn’t have come at a better time. I need a day to gather my thoughts. I just wish I could have gotten it for less anti-democratic reasons.
Katja Malmborg 