She has a place in Africa

She has a place in Africa. My daughter. She has a place in Africa where everyone knows her name. The minute she opens her outside aluminum door the day begins with all its greetings - the coming and going of the children, the head of household, the neighbors. She then walks to greet the important people in the village - the Imam, the Chief, the oldest grandmother, the chief's 3 wives. Finally she can begin her day. No matter where she goes she is called to, "Abby-Gway!" "Abby-Gway!" As we walk down nearby roads, as we walk past huts, the well, as we walk through neighboring villages, they know her name. Abigail is frustrated by the relentless greetings, the time it takes to honor each household or individual with a greeting, sometimes even sit to repeat the salutatory exchange. A repartee of the same greetings/blessings and then the same questions about your health, family, did you sleep well, the weather - with a rote answer for each before gently moving on. A time honored way to show respect and community. She lives in a 10x10' hut, no electricity, no running water. It is the ultimate camping experience. Except that it is her place for 2 years. She has a comfortable bed, though, with the mandatory mosquito netting all-round, made from foam rubber. At the end of the day we are exhausted although it doesn't always seem like we've done too much. But the days are just packed! With greetings, drawing water from the well, maybe 2 hours in the fields schucking maize or cracking peanuts, then there might be wash to do, or a discussion with the older women about their soap business, the girls giggling about some teenage thing, a discussion about the midday meal - or you may begin helping with that: plucking a chicken, peeling the vegetables, washing the rice. Then the heat sets in; it's 2pm now. And November. And November is nothing compared to May. But you will see people lying down on mats now. Waiting for the meal to be ready. The sounds of schucking peanuts, or pestle hitting mortar, children laughing, children crying, children singing. There is always sound. She has this place in Africa.