This morning, while dodging the normal cars, pedestrians, motorbikes, dogs and goats, on my bike ride to work, I thought about two things: 1) I'd better ride really fast because those clouds look a little too dark for my comfort 2) It's kind of like I'm living every day as opposite day.
Opposite Day was that game kids used to play in elementary school. I remember it as being a strange way of trying to get out of doing something, or insulting someone (or reverse insulting someone by insulting them-which I guess is a compliment in a twisted way). But opposite day here has a different meaning to me. Opposite, you might say, which I realized when I once again set out for my bike commute on the left side of the road, surrounded by a city of dark-skinned residence. I stick out like the mutated white grape on an entire vine of dark purple. But still, just right for the picking (or rather the picking on). I'm used to it by now. I was plenty exposed to it in Gambia, not only with the adult men, but also the stranger kid punk boys walking home from school. Being here brings back a lot of memories (good and bad) from Gambia, and it's hard not to draw comparisons between the two. However, even though they both begin with G and are situated on the Atlantic, they are, indeed, opposite.
Yesterday was the first day of school. I've been indirectly affected by the lead up to school starting, and now, school starting. The first week at work (last week) was pretty slow, as a result. I've discovered a bike route fairly void of traffic, which increases my "Frogger" score immensely, each and every day. On one of the stretches of road, lies about 5 different education centers, including primary and secondary schools (high school), as well as the teacher's union and scout's association.
At the beginning of last week, it appeared there was lots to be done to get ready for the start of school, as observed by my riding to and from work on the school-lined road. The trenches freed of anacondas (just a guess) and the extremely tall grass that made up 3/4 of the area of the school needed to be "slashed". Slashed. From the "slash and burn" technique of farming. But in this present day, it is not the ancient scythe which a man uses for this work, but the mighty and powerful Weed Eater. And for as many Weed Eaters that have made their way into this country, I've yet to see one single push mower (gas powered or otherwise). Every day, I'd see 3 or 4 men working on on field, mouths covered with makeshift bandannas. Every day, more and more of the grass was effectively slashed and the trenches cleared. Every day, I imagined how grateful (or confused) they'd be if I had presented them with a lawn mower.
Yesterday, my quiet school-lined route felt as crowded as an OU home football game and my Frogger points declined significantly, as a result of the complicated stops and starts on my bicycle. But the kids looked so cute in their uniforms and the parents looked so proud to be accompanying them, that I couldn't help but glorify the first day of school.
Today, the road was significantly less crowded, which allowed me to appreciate the beautiful and subsequent "burn" which will now prevent the Weed Eater people from returning until next season, most likely.
And shortly after I arrived to work, down came the rains and washed the anacondas out.
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