Back courtyard life

I am reading in my room after a long day of language and technical training. I hear our neighbor come into the backyard and greet my mama. I knew he came by yesterday evening, asking if I had returned, but I had been too tired to go out and greet him.

He and his wife live a stone's throw away, with their three kids. I close my book and head outside to greet him. He looks genuinely happy to see me, and asks about my travels last week. He is dressed for the mosque and soon leaves for prayer.

Mama asks me to sweep while she gets ready for prayers. I sweep the courtyard with a grass broom, cleaning up after the chickens and ducks that run amok all day, and the coconut tops and the spilled charcoal and ashes from the day's cooking.

There is nothing more satisfying than the swoosh of air whipping through the broom every time you swing it back to brush the red dust and debris off the hard-packed clay.