Evening

Evening
I can hear the imam sing the evening call to prayer. I can hear the boda-bodas passing on the street. I can hear the African crows cawing. I can hear the yellow vuvuzelas campaigning for Museveni. I can hear a big lorry rumble down the hill toward the main road. I can hear the askari at the school bang, bang, banging the tire rim with a stick to officially say ‘night has come.’ I can hear the insects chirping at different intervals; some slowly zeep-zeep, some steadily rig, rig, rig, rig, some ululate lu-lu-lu-lu-lu. I can hear vague voices of children in the street. I can hear a bicycle ring its bell signalling to pass people walking home.

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