morena....

in the internet cafe one can hear hogs squealing as they are loaded atop bush taxis, hog tied and placed in rafia baskets. the chickens are quiet right before they get sold, but only then. it was best when we would wake up in the mornings to potato and cassava peels, lime rinds, pistacchio shells, empty whisky bottles, ashes, a stack of books on the table serving as a pedestal for dishes of crusted over hoisin sauce. the only thing left is to sink further. don mustard-stained trowsers with torn and dirty cuffs, vacuum cleaner over the shoulder. we left early yesterday and ibrahim was there breading a fresh batch of soja. the piment, our lips were burning. c'est plus chaud qu'il ne l'est d'habitude, mon ami oui oui, c'est tres bien, non egalment bien qu'hier, mon pere claiming that something is exactly as perfect as it was yesterday, and not that its matchless perfection is only rivaled by tomorrow's form, is the politically correct way to criticize. jerry and i got some icy milk stouts and i wrote the final examinations for math and chemistry classes. we have decided to encourage the bar to continue having a refrigerator buy bringing them business and arrive in this state with a handful of limes gathered from amongst the empty bags, loose grains of salt, bottles of crema salvadorenha, that old bottle of tonic water, and bang on the door.

rfi's morning report yesterday, which was blocked this morning by radio bafoussam's erratic transmitter that consumes all frequencies, noted that the nigerien president and opposition political party have taken the food shortage to its natural conclusion: a chance to profit by consolidating/seizing power. the president claims that the food shortage is limited to some small areas and is being publicized to defame the government with the direction of the opposition party and the UN. the opposition claims that the government has carefully, surgically manipulated things to bring starvation, that they should resign ipso facto. duylinh's reporting direct from the source: ...was responsible for like 69 villages. so we got up there in this maze of earthen compounds and narrow alleyways to see this chubby man wearing a suit all in white, with a long shiny silver cape, and his guard with a ridiculously long sword. there was an old man who rushed to put the cape back on him whenever it fell off. i got a henna design on my left hand. it should last a couple months, except the fingernails, permanently stained. the kids say henna isn't cool. with my right hand i eat we all sit around on the floor from a comunal dish. it is hard not to make a mess when we have something like rice and beans... doo dah doo dah

that pig keeps squeeling. he is louder than the diesel engine of the beer truck. one time one of them fell out of the back of a taxi, squeeling endlessly as the crowd gathered around. it takes two men to carry them. they are still heavier than the stalk of plantains.