Next morning I wake up to find a camel caravan outside the compound. I bet Erik Satie liked camels. I rub the sleep from my eyes, but it's hard to tell. Many questions cross my mind as the caravan prepares to depart. When I grow up, I want to be a camel driver.
Days go by.
In the morning I help the women shell peanuts. In the afternoon I drink tea with the men. But the real key is to pour the tea from above your head, so that each glassful develops a healthy head of foam. The arm movement of the veteran tea maker is smooth and precise, like the windup motion of a fastball pitcher. Eventually I will have to leave, and I do.