Morning: birds flying. You can hear the sounds of their wings flapping. Bath water is hissing as it reaches boiling temperature. Roosters crowing-all at various times. The splashing of my hands as I wash up before breakfast. Greetings in complete silence by the light of one candle to my ‘me’ and ausi. After the crunching of cereal with hot milk, homemade bread, and eggs I move outside. Wrapped in a traditional Basotho blanket and clutched to my steaming cup of coffee I sit and have my menthol cigarette. I watch the local women hang up their clothes on the line, dumping bath water buckets, and the men checking the gardens and getting the cattle ready to herd.
Facing the mountains exactly where the sun will rise. Occasionally pigeons land on the tin roof and fight. The noise is loud and erratic. The light dances over the peaks and valleys of the mountains. The first sun rays of the day go through the trees and touch my face, warming it
Cattle walks by, bells on their necks it always sounds like a band marching by. The Ntate (men) and abuti (boys) bark orders at the cattle and the herd fluidly changes direction.
This is my home.
Far for now…
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