Friday Night

Today, while we were in the car on the way back from a conference, A pointed the Black Market out to me. That’s where the jackass bandits who stole my phone will probably be selling it. A then gave me a lot of tips to think about if I go to the Black Market to look for my phone; the thing is, A is young and he’s kind of a goody-two-shoes. I mean that in the best way. He’s wonderful; but I’m not sure how much he knows about the deep-dark-sordid-underbelly of this conflict city.

On the one hand, being Congolese and living here, presumably he knows much more than me. On the other hand… I want my damn phone back.

**

Today was a Good Day. I’m starting to get real honest work to do. I am so much happier with Work To Do than without Work To Do. I’m slowly less confused about French and by NGO-speak. I’m more relaxed.

Right now there are cookies baking in the oven, more cookies baking in the toaster over, and a 1970s Goldie Hawn comedy (Foul Play) playing on the big TV in our living room. A handful of my housemates and I are sitting around on the bright red couches, with too-strong margaritas in our mismatched glasses and baguette and cheese in our stomachs, giggling at the slapstick.