And then the Africa Cup started

You wake up one Tuesday, and there is no internet. Not the first time it happens, so you check if there is electricity, reset the router, get somewhat angry and go to work. Then the radio tells you that demonstrations are going on in town, that you shouldn't be using certain roads, and that actually you shouldn't be leaving your compound until further notice. You've been there for 8 months and this is the second time your radio is of some use, so you're almost excited about it, you just worry about your friends who are in the affected parts of town.

Then later your learn that internet and sms services are cut off because the government ordered the providers to do so (there is a law in place that allows them), and although there are rumours as to why, nobody really knows. It seems obvious that it's related to the demonstrations that are related to the proposed amendments to the electoral legislation, and that opposition and educated youth are not happy with the proposal.

You never lived in a country where a government would actually shut down internet, you thought it was only ever happening in North Korea. First you think it's ok as long as you can get your work done (and they manage to have connection somehow through a satellite, don't ask), but soon you feel disconnected if you cannot see your whatsapp and facebook messages. And you can't, for days.

You message your mother to tell her there's no internet and she shouldn't worry, and you hope she doesn't ask why. She doesn't; from her point of view, it's normal to not have access to internet in Africa; she doesn't think it's a bad sign that you used to have it but now it stopped.

You actually do use your radio and listen to what it says. You worry some more about your friends in affected parts of town, but you still get annoyed by the people in your canteen who would usually go home or somewhere else for lunch but are now grounded and thus you have to share your lunchtime with them.

You drive to work and you are annoyed because a traffic jam starts building up and seriously, why do we have to drive 15 the hour?! You see there is some slow motion vehicle in front, and you're irritated and think it should be out of your way until you realize it's not some construction work machine but actually an FIB tank. You think the Senegalese are funny in their full gear, but they are  actually scaring you.

You monitor the international news portals. Not because you think they can tell you anything new, but because you want to see what makes it to Europe, what makes it home. You want to know how much longer you have until you have to disclose some information to reassure your family.

The week passes by and nothing actually happens. Well, nothing actually happens to you. News reports, although with widely varying numbers, that people have died and got wounded during the protests, but you haven't experienced any of the atrocities first-hand. You think you've handled it rather well, and tell yourself there wasn't really anything to handle, and you almost believe it. Until you get home on Friday, and feel a heavy, draining fatigue, mental and emotional exhaustion. Then you know that „it”, whatever it may have been, has indeed affected you in a sneaky, understated, but nonetheless effective way.