Like a long lost lover, memories of guinee come back, gently caressing me awake from my 8 year slumber.
It could be trying to learn lingala and thinking only of sousou
it could be every time I turn on the radio, I hear the rhythms of west africa
it could be dance awakening my soul
it could be torturous regret, cutting deep and turning savagely
it could be news from home, shutting down all connections
it could be the dream of freedom, riding on the back of the coup d'etat
But I remember
sucking water from a bag
hot colors and cool nights
full round moons
and dying brothers
I remember guinee, and as everyone else returns, I start to dream of leaving. I hope the daily routines that are sure to begin will put my head back on.
