While the Reverend drove and the merry passengers chatted away in fluid Hausa, I looked out the window. The distinct color of broken rocks in sight surrounded by green patches of grass and trees glides past, then the sign outsite the door of the restuarant/ bar read;
Rehoboth Grounds.
I look again.
Rehoboth Grounds.
We are slowed down by a rickety bus in front of us. An older man in a trench coat is chatting away with two other men in thick sweaters not far away...
Rehoboth Grounds.
Everybody in my view outside the window is wearing warm cloths. Sweaters. Hoods. Why are they all cold, I wander aloud.
'Wait till we get home' Des says. I look out again but Rehoboth Grounds was no longer in Sight,only fences made of cactus plants ran past. We will arrive the Reverend's new home soon and pray,we will meet many relatives too. Nice people that all spoke Hausa and a little Mada.
Rehoboth Grounds.
Remind me not to call Des 'Baby'.
Around here, I am conscious. Mother's calls are increasing in frequency too. She is a little worried now, I think.
We'd passed the Restaurant/Bar with the name that is now etched in my head. I think of Sublime street and return Merit's smile. Tinapa is still miles away. I am thinking of the Nigerian Bar conference we are supposed to attend for the rest of the week. I hope there will be another Rehoboth Grounds there too.
Facebook status: August 26, 2013
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