Always fine

I am sitting in an office on the second floor. My seat is a white plastic chair and the room has windows on 3 walls. I can see palm trees just outside and I can see the ocean over the tops of the buildings. It is starting to get dark outside and the sunlight has softened to gold. There is a church next door where hundred have gathered to sing and dance. It sounds like they are in the room with us.

In a few minutes I will walk outside and hope that the rain holds off until I get home. I will walk down the street to the road where the taxis come, past the stalls selling laundry soap and bread and past the teenage boys washing cars. I will stick out my hand when a taxi passes, say "Murray Town Junction" to the driver, and wait to see whether he will take me. If he does, I will cram into the taxi for the 10 minute ride. People with buckets full of items for sale will come up to the window and try to get my attention. I will smile and shake my head.

The taxi will let me off at the junction and I will head down the road to my neighborhood. I will pass the soccer field with the crowd of spectators and I will look up at the people watching from the roofs of their houses. The smell of chicken and goat skewers will mix with the smell of dirt and rain. "White Girl!" people will say as I pass, and I will turn and smile. A few kids will run up and touch my arm, but most will just yell and wave.

I will turn onto my street, avoiding puddles and stray dogs. The woman who is always sitting on her porch, a baby in her arms, will call out to me and I will ask her about her day. Another woman on the bench will speak to me in Krio and laugh when I try to answer. Di bodi is fine. Work is fine. Di night is fine. Everything is fine.

I will knock on my gate and one of the guards will let me in. Again, the exchange of fines. It is always fine here.