His leg jeked him out of what he thought was a sound sleep. There was a silent frustration at work when he awoke like when a garbage truck bangs its cans at four a.m. disturbing your respite of the day. Without opening his eyes he moved his fingers to feel the fringes of the mat he lay on, the solid starchy yet damp straw threatened to puncture his tips. His fingers moved further arcing underneath the mat to feel the texture of the thatches. One eye opened to take in the mud and the drizzling rain in the corners of the room. Beyond his feet, a few yards away crouched against the further wall of the shack was a small dark boy.
He thought dark, but black dark. Why is there a small black boy in my shack? The wretch looks hungry.
For a minute his eyes searched over the black boy's slim figure looking for a trace of clothing to help identify the visitor. All he saw was the ball-like head over thin shoulder rails and a slighly puffed muscular frame. The head knodded to one side at a soft angle and he concluded the boy must be sleeping.
His hip felt like a jagged chunk of stone as he tried to turn over, to get himself off the mat, to get himself outside the shack and into whatever rainy, thundery carniverous world was outside. He exerted as much pressure as he thought he could handle before believing his eyeballs would dislocate from the pressure. Strapped down, he thought. I must be strapped down. As he closed his eyes again, too worn out to fight and surrendering to the apathy awarded to those who feel no drive to overcome but instead wait and see, he thought for a second he could see the black boy raise its head and smiling gumless.
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The plane fare from Sierra Leone to Houston, Texas was approximately $540 with a total traveling time of over ten hours with four stop overs.
