Morning is the best part of the day in Ouaga. The sun is always up around 6:30 am all year long. (It's that equatorial thing. No long, dark winters for us!) The birds make a pleasant racket outside in our treetops. The guardians make a somewhat less pleasant racket with their transister radios as they listen to the news in Mooré.
This morning was pretty typical. JP was up, per usual , around 5:30am. He's an early bird, though I cannot say that he is particularly interested by worms. He usually likes to read in the early morning. The rest of us were up by 6. I got the breakfast ready. Not like it’s an intricate task - we tend to eat cereal, though I do try to make something nice at least once a week. This morning there were whole wheat pancakes- healthy pancakes, if there is such a creature. By 6:33 the sun was up and Mal was out in the backyard pampering her beloved goats. JP was still getting ready in the bedroom : exercise, shaving, shower, etc. Now, I consider the pre-bedtime shower indispensable to any hope of an organised morning. So, while JP goads me about my forgetfulness (or not-so-early-onset senility), I tease him about his drawn-out morning rituals. It takes him forever to get ready to go anywhere! But at least he doesn’t fit the stereotype of the hygiene-impaired French person, which, btw is not an entirely unfounded one , as we shall see.
As usual, Aslan found his way into the kitchen. He had to be coaxed out by Mal waving saltine crackers and brandishing her trusty herding stick.
Al needed a hairdressing services, as I had put curlers in her hair last night. Her hair is so long that they took ages to put in and even longer to take out. It turned out very impressive, though, trés Sleeping-Beauty. The envy of the 4^th grade class
As 7 am rolled around, I was afraid the twins would be late for school. Their carpool ride was behind schedule, not for the first time. Al remarked to me: “This morning it’s X’s dad- he’s always late. He takes a long time to get ready in the morning -kind of like Papa. But I don’t know why. He doesn’t smell very good.” Ouch. She said it in a nice way, just remarking casually. But still…ouch. I tried not to laugh and suggested that she not mention it to him, as it would hurt his feelings and probably have no effect on his aroma. She assured me, rather offended, that she wouldn’t dream of it and then added “It’s just bad now because it’s cold in the morning and he keeps the windows up. It will be better when there’s more air.” Ever the pragmatist, that child. I didn’t have the heart to point out that the hot season will arrive in March, which will doubtlessly mean more sweat from the Euro-Dad , plus closed windows with the air-con on!