THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT

The heat wakes you up in N’Djamena.  The children playing outside your door also wake you.  Men and boys on camels, riding along the dirt streets to market, shouting from camel to camel, wake you up too.  Little scrappy motorcycles wake you up and you can smell their smoke.  The old diesel engines of yellow Peugeot taxicabs begin their daily prowl down the mud streets, and their rumble and smoke also come into your room.  Many of the women of this city begin their march to the river to wash the family clothes; they talk and laugh as they pass your window.  And you might get a cell phone call from friends who want to know what you are doing today.

Hari/Translator