A Small Place

I have a house. It's not the riadh in the medina I'd spent a month dreaming about (buying a refrigerator and transporting it by donkey just proved to be too big an undertaking, let alone other necessary furniture and considerations). Instead, another student went home and I took over her lease for a small orange house in the ville nouvelle and moved in just over a week ago.



It has a yard, complete with a turtle and a loquat tree heavy with ripe golden fruit. My room has a window facing the front yard, a large bookshelf, and a National Geographic map of Africa curiously left behind. Across the hall is Sam's room, and then we share a bathroom (and its narrow, deep tub with shower extension but no curtain), a living room (couch, coffee table, and dining table), and a kitchen (propane stove, countertop oven, ancient refrigerator). A door off the kitchen leads to a weed-grown backyard with a clothesline and a strange outbuilding with three additional empty rooms.



The windows allow a soft sunlight in during the day, and the concrete stays relatively cool even in the afternoon heat. Set back from neighbors, I enjoy quiet except when the neighborhood soccer game gets out of hand and the little boys ring the bell to retrieve their ball from the yard. The previous residents installed a DSL line, so I still enjoy constant internet (oops), which makes up for the fact that I'm back to washing my laundry in a bucket in the bathtub (oh well, keeps me busy).



Yesterday, I finally declared my scrubbing/dusting/organizing project to be complete and served a housewarming dinner to friends. Maryam, Angus, Roshan, John, Laura and Mark gathered for chicken artichoke pasta, fruit salad and chocolate cake. It was a perfect opportunity to introduce old friends and new, and now that the place has been graced by the presence of the cool kids, I finally feel properly at home once again.