I Bless the Rains

Down in Africa,is what is being said in the chorus of the Toto song, in case you wondered. I am so grateful to the couple of downpours I've seen here. Things get quiet(er). The energy in the air changes entirely. People bombarding others and dodging bombardment on the street take cover and actually see each other, it seems. The other woman on this trip sat quietly on the terrace and seemed calmed by the water and the people-seeing versus this sort of dread toward the street because of said bombardment. The temperature dropped quickly with an almost-cold breeze right before the sky opened up. I needed to wash off the crankyness and negativity that was suffocating us in the house, plus taking bucketbaths is wicked tricky and getting my thick head of hair wet by shoving it in a bucket barely works. So I danced around in the what-we-would-call-courtyard of the what-i-call compound where, in the rain, the jungle-like vegatation is suddenly dominating the space over the dirt, dirt covered wood and metal junk, and randomness. Water from the roof pours don onto the trunk of the palm tree at the corner of the house and then cascades down in this girl-under-waterfall-in-shampoo-commercial way. There's a wall around this cluster of houses censoring the show for the hundred or so people outside it. I had been surveying the rainfall and preparing for my shower in it, standing on the second floor terrace in boxers and my bathing suit (a bikini top that is about as sexy as a ritz cracker with EZ cheese). Vendor-women standing across the street pointed. The other girl here is now doing flamenco with headphones on, on that same terrace.
There aren't many pairs of young white girls in Lome. So everyone in the hood probably is aware of us, and this behavior, no doubt, would not surprise them. I err on the side of Not Pissing Anyone Off. I'm also conscious of the favor our extremist pal in the U.S. did all of us with his plan to burn the Quran. The Spaniard here is cut of different cloth and will have some photos of great moments and sights i will not.
Anyhow. The rain is now almost deafening on the tin rooves and palm trees. But the bass and drums of the ever-playing dance music will not be outdone. Hopefully we'll lose power again in a bit and really enjoy some quiet. (i have done REALLY well enjoying the Totally Different, but in the final stretch here am finally feeling some pangs of I Want My)...
Tonight if the rain ever stops we are going to a place that serves 'cheeze burgers'.

Today we walked down one of the hundreds of unnamed dirt streets nearby where Yawo's brother owns a hotel. (not what you are picturing). There was a tinkering sound, like someone hitting a tin bell. A tall skinny dark old man came out of nowhere and walked between us with bolts of dark fabric and an old sewing machine balanced on his head. Like in my sleeping-dreams, I couldnt get my camera in time to capture it so I would know if it was real or not.

The rain was winning for a minute. The music blaring out of those notoriously crappy speakers is going to blow a fuse and save us all.