An Observation in the Wrong Frame of Mind

It was such a delicate touch.

Barely a soft caress.

Like a lover flirting with a kiss

Softly brushing an eyelash.

           

Are you a lover?

You,

A magnificent black and tan beast,

The oil on your hide shining in the sun.

You stand larger than the shops lining the street.

Your flat nose bent down

Sniffing at something.

The not yet sun-bleached skull

Of one of your fellows

A small patch of hide

Still fastened between the horns.

Do you recognize the smell?

Is it a friend?

Or a vague memory of a friend.

Maybe it was a brother

And the smell of what's left

Of him evokes memories.

Sad and beautiful in their pain.

Or is it a stranger? Someone you never knew,

Never loved

And you are merely exploring the morbidity of your own death when

Soon

Your skull will join his in that ditch.

The Importance of Soft.

Dear Past Me,

Thank you so much. I am extremely grateful that you had the foresight to hide little pieces of toilet paper in random pockets of our backpack. As we all know, I can be a little forgetful at times to bring my soft with me. When I was struck with the need to use the facilities today I had what I needed, all because of you. You truly are a lifesaver.

            I will try to remember to replace what I used so future us will not be without (we both know she's an airhead).

Sincerely,

            Present Us.

YeWubalem Megibet (Wubalem's Restaurant)

This is from my favorite restaurant in town. They always present coffee on a little tray. It has all the fixings for a proper buna ceremony. There's even an adorable little mini-stove for the incense (itan, I like it better than sandal). I can pour as many cups as I want in my own time and put as much sugar as I want. No more, when I say "sikwar yellem" (no sugar) will I get looks that plainly say "are you crazy?!"

My Students Are Awesome

Here is a traditional Ethiopian dance from the Amhara region as described by a few of my students.

The Spider Chronicles, Arachnid Colonies

I was understandably excited when called upon by my superiors to attend a two week training session. I was not unaware of the potential hazards that accompanied such a long excursion and subsequent absence from my home.

            Before leaving I made certain to secure my domicile and belongings from the enemy. Locking my garments in their suitcase and tucking every corner of the bug net under my mattress were among my chief concerns and preparations.

            It was not enough.

            Upon my return home, a swift survey of my surroundings proved that the spiders were emboldened and took advantage of my long absence. The fat bodied and fuzzy legged arachnids that were my sole tormentors have allied with their cousins who are much the same as daddy long-legs. They have taken up residence in the far corners of my ceiling where I am unable to reach them save with a broom – an unreliable weapon in this war if there ever was one. And even despite my efforts, my foes have penetrated my security and made their way into my garments and my bug fortress.

            One such foe escaped impending doom. When I first discovered it crawling on my clothes I was startled. It took advantage of my momentary lapse of composure and scurried into hiding. I was unable to locate it. Its friend, who was caught crawling up the headboard of my bug net, was not so lucky. I noticed it as I looked up from my documents. With my foot clad in a sandal I aimed but in the half light of my flashlight I missed my mark. The spider escaped the crushing blow and crawled over my open toe and dropped to my mattress. At this point I lost what little composure I had struggled to maintain, and let out a shriek at the touch of the creepy, crawly creature. I startled my neighbors who rushed to my aid. However, I did not need them. I rallied and smacked the spider with my shoe and then snatched up his still twitching body with a tissue so as to dispatch its corpse far from my place of residence.

            I am afraid that my confidence has been shaken. I am startled by the shadow of a piece of lint or the slight brush of a loose strand of hair. Even now, as I write this in the small glow of my flashlight I imagine them crawling towards me just outside the circle of light illuminating my pen.