history is a nightmare from which i can't wake

3am. there is a mosquito net draped over my face and all darkness. the air conditioner is on so the power must be back on. i tried to figure out why my mind was fuzzy and my throat so dry. something about a bottle of smirnoff's that we found for only 4675 francs. also that the water and power went out right around when i finished plucking the chicken. there should be a bowl of intestines out in the courtyard somewhere. since the power was back i could have una linda taza de agua and finish uploading the files. the power was still out in the computer room, it so happened.

7am. i make a calculation that by the time the uploading finishes it will be too late to believe that i can get back to lewoh before the sun sets and rises once more. i lie on a sofa and start to read Ulysses. i agreed with the chicken's owner that if she let me have the back and the neck and give me those four potatoes that are about to rot then we'd have a bland and nourishing ten o'clock soup. brunch is a dark broth with potatoes and carrots, stale bread dipped softening and several cups of mint tea.

2pm. uploads are about 60% complete. i'll go home tomorrow. we were sitting here when i worked out the plan with stanley about his sister in ireland and the graduation photos of his sister in buea. he had been drinking all morning and sai

d the two of us would pass a jolly rest of the afternoon and evening drinking. i agreed to a bottle of soda water because one should be able to spot a bad idea. school was letting out and children were walking by screaming whatever nonsense fills their heads at that age. these two old men, nostalgic on their schooldays in the colonial times, were grumbling in some of the best english i've heard in menky about how everything has gone to hell since the british left the children don't even know what a verb of incomplete predication is anymore.