Early in the morning, 4.30 am. I have to go to the airport and everything is going rather fast. Tani is not coming but a brother. I remember some phone calls during the night. A house that seems to be Tani‘s had caught fire.
I am late and run from the taxi to the domestic departures hall. A man takes my bag and pulls it for me. When we reach to check-in desk, he asks for a tip.
During the flight I am half asleep. Just before the landing, I see the landscape. Trees on brown ground, red streets.
This time it is cooler when I leave the aircraft. There are two doors labelled ,Arrival‘. One for passengers, the second one for baggage. Why so complicated? We could just take our luggage out of the aircraft directly.
There is no one to pick me up. I try to look confident and get out my phone - no chance. The taxi driver leaves when I tell him someone is coming for me. But not the man who looks more like someone official in his yellow vest. I just want to wait but he is already looking for a phone that works, unlike my own. A few minutes later he has given me his number and email address and asks for mine. When I am finally being picked up, he hurries to heave my bags in the car and quickly leaves me alone. Mr Ibrahim apologises for the delay. The car had broken down but now it is running and we soon arrive at Mr Ibrahim‘s house, my home for the next weeks. A big house painted in green with a wall and a gate and a pavilion with couches in the courtyard.
I am told not to give my number to anyone. Mr Ibrahim seems to know exactly what the man in the yellow was asking for. How am I supposed to know who is just being friendly and who offers help for a tip? How am I supposed to know how to handle each offer or request?
