lundi 26 novembre 2007

The "Entergy" of Village

It's 7pm in village. I step out of my hut to dump my leftover onion and bread bits in the compost. "What is that light?" I search for the offending light post in vain . . . that light is the huge, smoky and still luminous moon. Life without electricity makes you in-tune to so many things you would never notice otherwise in your bright, air-conditioned den with the reflection of the tv screen on the windows. I do not miss electricity at all. Sure, some nights i wish i could plug-in a fan . . . maybe i iwsh it were easier to charge my ipod and cell phone but thats all. In place of "Entergy" in village we have the glorious luminosity of Monsieur the Moon. Do you have any idea how bright the moon is? I thought i did . . . you know from being at the farm or at camp etc i thought I knew how brilliant the moon and stars could be. I was mistaken.

When you live in a place where the production of light is a small miracle you cant help but be startled at the moon and stars capability at flinging their endowment haphazardly towards your mud hut. They are like people with an immense natural talent that they dont appracitate and squander. During the growing half of the moon, the full moon, and then a little bit of the diminishing half one cannot help but want to chastise the moon for his waste. "Hey Moon, cant you spread out this light distribution? Hell, at this rate in two weeks you wont have anything left to spend and then i wont be able to find my latrine in the dark!" I get so excited when the full moon comes back. You can walk around village without a flashlight at night, i can find my latrine in the middle of the night without having to light my lantern, and of course not to mention how beautiful the moon is.

The light breeze at night after the ridiculous velocity of the afternoon harmattan winds, the tiny cheerful pinpricks of the stars like GOD is filtering the magnificence of heaven through a collander, the fluid Milky Way which winds carelessly languidly over the roof of my house, and then the audacity of the moon. I drink a cup of tea. I take a deep breath. I enjoy the marvelous pyrotechnics of the night village sky. These are things you can only see when the nearest gaudy artificial light is 80k away.

2 commentaires:

Sue a dit…

Alright, I came to read my sister's blogs, not literature by Fitzgerald. Tone down the literary talent a bit there sister. It makes me look better in comparison.

Cypress Corners a dit…

Beautifully written, I must say. I miss you friend. You are in store for a very long email soon. I'll look for you in the moon! I love you.

 
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