the everyday

so what do i write about when it all starts to feel normal?

when the daily trips to the market become daily?
shaking old pulaar women's hands
buying okra, tomatoes, onions, green peppers (if you're lucky).
greeting in 3-4 languages.
telling off little kids that shout at me.
avoiding cow/ goat/ camel waste in the sandy streets.
buying little tiny bags full of juice,
biting off the corner,
and sucking out the sweet, red bissap
to toss the plastic on the street.

arriving home (a mud brick building)
to a dad, his three wives, and more than 12 children.
playing soccer, washing dishes, washing clothes, making lunch on a coal stove,
carrying the baby on their backs.
drinking hot, minty, over-sweet shot glass sized caisses of tea
until rice and fish for lunch with veggies and hot pepper and lemon (if you're lucky).
then more tea, a nap, writing letters and reading.
and they take breaks for praying.

afternoon walk to the bridge over the flooding gorgol river.
men waded in, using hand nets to catch cousins of catfish.
cars backed in, men washing.
women standing or squatting in long skirts
scrubbing baby clothes.
donkey carts waiting for filled bottles of water.
herds of sheep and goats crossing the bridge
and long-horned cows.

as soon as the sun sets the temperature drops (if you're lucky).
the frogs come out to hunt flies, mosquitoes, grasshoppers.
or if the rain is coming the air stays thick, no hint of a breeze.
the clouds roll in after the sand in and the land is so flat
you see the lightening for miles before it hits
threatening in the east.
and when it hits it floods,
dripping from the thatched roof ceilings
seeping in poorly made door frames and window cracks.
and when i wake up it's instantly green.
or the water blocks the entrance and i have to wade through
ankle deep rain runoff.

i wake up, drink sugary coffee and eat bread.
listen to bbc, day dream.
so what can i write when this is the everyday?
or do i just write it and hope for the best?