symphony

It was Monday, market day. The village was a bustle with people coming and going with loads of goods piled on the back of their bikes and a top their heads. The sun was beginning its final decent, giving everything a soft pink hue. I heard voices floating in through the back door. I peered through the window to find a row of women lined up on the path that ran along the backside of the house. They had stopped to stare at my battery-powered lights. I opened the back door and greeted them. “Sannuu, “ I said. “Sannuu de aiki?” I was just hoping that was correct. They seemed to understand and rewarded me with bright white smiles and nervous giggles. And then…there we stood, they with their colourful wraps, beautiful beads, and balanced bowls and me with my dull brown skirt and sauce pan filled with tuna macaroni. It was an awkward yet beautiful encounter. Only my creative God could have orchestrated such a moment.