A room with a view.

[Bergerie1]

Centaurus, Thanks for another great story. I write too, here is one of mine called The Village:-

I was staying up-country, a Pan-African conference of some sort having filled all the hotels in the city. After flying in from Colombo, we had been driven through the night for an hour or so before tumbling gratefully into bed. It had been a long day, we could be anywhere.

When I awoke and drew back the curtains, only a feint light showed in the eastern horizon. Unable to sleep, I dressed and went outside. The stars were slowly fading as I made my way onto the terrace in front of the hotel. It was of a typically 1930’s design, but extended more recently in a style that only partly matched the original. A gentle slope led down to the fore-shore of a large lake across which, I could just make out some hills on the far side. I wandered slowly down to the water’s edge where I found the remains of an old concrete slip-way. Around its crumbling end, small multi-coloured fishes darted and flashed in the gathering light.

The freshness of the morning air had not yet given way to the heat of a tropical day. There was little point in returning inside, I was on the wrong time-zone, sleep had already escaped me, and it was far too early for breakfast. Behind the hotel, a slope of worn grass gave way to the encroaching jungle. The tops of tall trees were just beginning to catch the sunlight. They glowed with the vivid green that is only found in Africa after storms have washed everything clean the night before. Their colour was made even more vivid by the red murram paths below. I followed one of them in amongst trees that dangled with creepers. I knew not where it would lead but, judging by the many footprints, it was well used.

I must have walked for a mile or two before I came to a clearing. Mealy plants lined the path. Further on, some had been recently cut. A cock crowed, a goat bleated in the distance, and I began to hear the sounds of voices. A smell of wood-smoke was intensified by the damp morning air. I rounded a corner and entered a village made of round huts with conical grass roofs. Between the huts, on the beaten earth, chickens scratched, waiting to be fed. A mangy dog of indeterminate parentage came to inspect me. People were emerging from white painted doorways, stretching in the early morning light. Some children came out, saw me, shot back inside and peeped shyly around the door frame.

Their parents stared at me in astonishment. I politely wished them good morning and was greeted with smiles. Others appeared – the men in tatty khaki shorts, the women in brightly coloured dresses, with some kind of turban or cloth wrapped around their heads. Word must have spread because, soon, others came to look as I made my way between the huts.

A man, considerably older than the rest, came forward. His hair was greying, his skin wizened, he lacked a tooth or two but such was his dignity that, had I been wearing a hat, I have no doubt I would have raised it to him. He said some words in a language I did not understand. I wished him good morning in my very British way and apologised for intruding in his village. He seemed to sense the meaning of what I said, or perhaps he was just being polite. He offered his hand; I shook it and wished him well. Everywhere, people smiled and, when I raised my hand in greeting, the men waved back, women nodded shyly, while children stared wide-eyed from behind their hands.

When I came to the edge of the village, I turned to look back. There was quite a crowd; the old man gravely raised his right hand. I did the same and entered the forest. I went down the slope on a path which I hoped would lead me back to the lake. Fortunately it did. When I came to the shore, I followed it back to the hotel. The sun was now well up, soon the heat of the day would be upon me. I mused on what I had seen. Had I been an African, dressed in tribal costume, walking through a remote village in rural England, I wondered whether I would have been greeted with such courteous warmth and grace.