Going into Town [Part 1]

[I've split this entry into two because it got too long and, I'm afraid, it might not be all that interesting]

Sundays are wonderful here in the far south. The streets are active and moods are light. The shadows of mango trees are all occupied, young boys playing cards and men chatting with their legs crossed. Unfortunately, women seem to enjoy less leisure. They wash and fetch water and walk. But many rest as well. It���s a peaceful idleness���not like the idleness farther north that you worry will erupt instantly and for nothing in yelling and warning shots.

Today I ���went into town��� with my friend Joseph. Going into town only means a couple things. Almost always it means we go to this one particular Ethiopian restaurant. I am not sure why this is the only restaurant my colleagues ever go to, but it���s good food and the owner usually hugs all of us. We went there yesterday to say hello to the owner���which turned into a Coke, which turned into a long lunch���and had to enter past armed military guards. This wasn���t normal but yesterday afternoon a very high government official was dining with the owner. I was shocked when the owner left the official alone at the table and joined us, giving us free food, and sharing stories about tequila.

Going into town can also mean picking up a few essentials from the market���Cokes, Tang, and medication to kill worms. My first night here, going into town meant finding a small empty caf��, drinking Fanta, and watching a Celine Dion DVD. She is everywhere here.

I apologize, I���ve gotten very far from the story I wanted to share.