Three western plantain-eaters swooped down the compound. Soft cow-cow-cows tickled the waking ears of children. Sarah, youngest of three, sprung from her foam mattress and peeked through the louvre panes. Her landscape restricted to a horizontal strip but, like every morning, she watched the birds gather around a small puddle. The harmattan fog was lifting as the morning sun broke through. She saw them clearly, with their grey plumage puffed and their long tails erect, dipping their yellow beaks into the puddle. Sarah’s heart rose with excitement, she enjoyed these quiet moments and kept them to herself.
- Reflection #8: Untangling
- Reflection #9: Investment