Letter #5

I looked at my watch, and over an hour had passed since a limp hand and toothy smile had welcomed us. We had been waiting over an hour and they hadn’t lit the fire yet, which meant we would be waiting for the fire to get going before they even start cooking.” I was getting exasperated and probably should have laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, but couldn’t because I was getting angry. To calm things down I reminded myself that in Africa things happened differently, and so to make the best of waiting I talked with Alex about his new artistic journey. It proved to be an ample diversion and we both managed to lose ourselves, but without a cup of tea to wet our lips time began to drag, and our attention turned once more to the empty table in front of us. My stomach growled with hunger, and to get away from the stifling, claustrophobic interior of the restaurant, I decided to go and see for myself what was happening in the kitchen.