march 29. the abyei night is black like thick ink. as you walk down the road, you

(not me, you) push your face into it, trying to gain a centimetre or two

of perspective, and it almost meets a soldier's leaning over his

handlebars doing the same. you both recoil like surprised fishes at the

black bottom of the ocean. he swerves, and the flowers on his

handlebars brush your (not my, your) arm.

people fix flowers to the handlebars of their bicycles in bunches. roses, carnations, impossible pink flowers in rows. even soldiers. daisies pour off the front, a machine gun hangs from the back.

when an organism enters a new environment, with time the new stimuli

elicit diminishing responses. as it inhabits, it habituates. in a

conflict setting, for expatriates, it is called "immersion". at first,

every soldier is registered, every weapon noticed. after weeks, in a

new normal, one sees mostly daisies.

for years i was blind to flowers. it took a friend to show me how easy

they are to love. in the hot morning, they hang for water. an hour

after, they are bright. when i leave the feeding centre, i think about

flowers each time.

i will write more when i find some minutes. they are so slick with

sweat here. five things you meant to meet in your day somehow slip

right by.

go to www.youtube.com and search for "reno balloon race".  beautiful.