The pool ranges from a shallow turquoise to deep blue. No insects are allowed to touch the surface. I am handed my towel swinging my fat belly over the pools edge.
No thanks, no tip "shlurfing" back to room 428. The AC really never stops running to keep room temperature below 15 Celsius. Just ordered a double espresso oux lait to the room to get my colonial brain started.
It takes hours for the room service to clean up my mess every morning, to put all the unnecessary items that i brought to this continent to the spot they think they belong, to wipe away all the crumbles and tissues from under the bed, to put my filthy bagpack very tidy into the same corner every morning and to wipe the floor again after my bag spread dry red mud all on its path.
Now the coffe seems to grasp my frontal brain tissue and a tear makes its way before i could even think of what is happening. Poverty is painful, unbearable, just not acceptable.
Its incredibly disturbing to me to see theese four black kids playing in the hotels negative edge pool, not to mention the volume of them blarring of joy. Its their white enthusiastic guarding "parents" that even support that. The game is easy: adopt a poor and greatfulness is guaranteed if not expected at least (till the vail of that crime is lifted) Besides it safes you the pain of giving birth and keeps your nipples uptight.
What is wrong and what is right? Should I try to have a word with Blaise the president or rather with that shady guy in the UNICEF-Jeep a block away? I think I will stick to the plan to see "Mummy III" at Burkina Cine rather than having a joint with Couscous at our Rastafriends. Poverty isnt easy, but choices are hell !!!!