Mmmm, sheepmeat

Less than 6 ft. in front of me I watch as two sheep slowly back up, lift one front leg and charge until their skulls make a sickening crunch on impact. If unphased their violent ritual will start again until one or the other falls or retreats behind the rest of the herd who remain uninterested and quietly munching rocks for iron supplements. This all takes place in the front courtyard of the headnurse, while the other health worker is busy making tea, pouring it back and forth, 20 maybe 100 times until there's 2 inches of frothy foam in each glass. It's my daily green tea cappucino of which I'll drink at least 3 before insisting I've had enough since I can barley see straight from all the caffeine pumping through my veins.

It's 3pm and we've already helped ourselves to a plateful of spaghetti and sheepmeat (same sheep standing in front of me I don't know, and don't care to ask). We pass around the pot of food to serve ourselves and of course they say I never take enough, "Il faut bien servir" "It is necessary to serve yourself well", "Il faut bien manger" "It is necessary you eat well." I usually have to snatch my plate away making it impossible to heap two more spoonfuls onto my plate after I've already said, "OK, ca suffit". It's not that I'm trying to watch my figure but when I spend 22 hours of the day in a dormant position and extra spoonful of white rice is not going to help anything. If it weren't for the caffeine rich tea I would recline in my wooden chair already sitting at a 45° angle and nap in the brisk 85°F weather. It's 'l'heure Afrique' and there's no where to be.