A Birthday in Benin

We were on the road to Toura when the phone went dead —  not literally, of course, but in our conversation. Suzanne was telling me about the dust and the mud and the red soil — and I was walking there with her.

She had warned me her phone was low on charge and not to worry if it went dead. We ought to have stopped talking then. But instead we chatted minutes longer, then suddenly she was gone — and the great yawning space between us opened even wider and I willed myself into her small African village, along the red and rutted road, into her walled concession, past the guinea fowl that live there too, through her humble door and into her life.

I couldn't do any of that in real life, of course, but how I wish I could — especially today, her birthday.

Suzanne's present came four months ago when she landed in Africa. My gift is knowing how very happy she is. 


Photo by Suzanne Capehart