Three days are left. We have plans to see some traditional dancing, but somehow it never works out. I don‘t really mind as I enjoy the quiet afternoons and evenings at the house. We walk down the red dusty road and through the houses to buy beans or ground flour, we cook and play. I sit in the pavilion, people are coming and going. „Come and taste.“ The milk tastes different here. Normally, we use milk powder but now Fadila is heating some real milk on the fire. I don‘t understand what it is meant for. Then again „Come and have some.“ Sakina brings a bowl filled with the milk, little chunks of plantain and something else and a couple of spoons and puts it on the floor. „Squat. Squat.“ More and more join us as we gather around the bowl, everyone with a spoon in his or her hand and soon the bowl is empty. That‘s Africa.
My last evening. We realise that I didn‘t see any dancing, so the girls decide to dance themselves. Of course I have to try as well. Lots of bottom shaking, clapping and laughing. It is more difficult than it looks. While I take some last pictures with the boys who are watching a football match, Itisan falls asleep. It is time to go to sleep.
