How time is ticking away

In a very strange manner. Days go by fast (happens, when one has the luxury of going to work at 08.30), by the evening I'm so drained I want to sleep by half past nine (and most often I do indeed crawl under the mosquito net), but weekends can be cruelly long (especially if a neighbour blasts Céline Dion from nine in the morning), and at the same time it's really hard to believe that it's only been a month since I've arrived to Africa and barely three weeks in DRC. I don't know if it's because the whole setup is so absurd that my subconscious decided it's too much to handle and it's better for all parties concerned if we take it one day at the time.

This very same time also has a slow motion way of moving. I noticed early on that I am probably the only one in the entire mission who doesn't smoke, and soon after understood why everybody else does. It kills time. Those who have a lot of work during the day smoke all through the evenings because time suddenly finds them. In some sections there is work to be done on Saturdays as well, or any other time when it's necessary, so when they sometimes don't have to work, people have difficulties finding something to do. In my first temporary lodging the „you won't last six months here” guy one Saturday afternoon just got into his service car, wearing very commonplace grey sweatpants, and drove to one of the three stores. Not because he or anybody else needed anything, but he was bored. There are many events organized, the expats find each other and even a Sunday lunch could become quite a social gathering, but sometimes that hour between the two football games can be very, very long.