Keys, lights, action

This is the second of four articles, as Trust director Dee Bixley reflects on her recent visit to our projects.

We have booked a two-night stay at a modest guest house in Soma near Jappineh.  On arrival, we find the staff dazzled by the upcoming opening of the nearby Senegambia Bridge.  A momentous achievement, it promises to end centuries of trade chaos, and has taken 7 years to build.  Not surprisingly, journalists and photographers have been jostling for rooms, which is why (we discover later) our rooms for tomorrow have been double-booked.

Meanwhile, we surrender to our parts in a situation comedy.   My role has three room changes because the keys don’t fit or don’t lock or there’s no lighting.  So, I flit about unpacking, packing, unpacking and although it’s a non-speaking part I do indulge in some fruity ad-libs.

Kemo’s role is that of a gentleman, which requires no acting skill because he’s like that anyway.  As for Kira, she merely gives one of her famous shrugs and remains sanguine throughout.   
 
Strangely, my third room is behind fretwork bars, with a door that also has keys.  Kemo wants to make quite sure that my door key will work this time, so I proudly demonstrate my ability to double-lock.  We both jump in horror when the door swings open anyway!  Still, I’ll be safely behind bars.  

As we eat our evening meal, huddled on a tiny balcony, we receive light entertainment from the electricians alongside. 

“Did you know that roosters can crow all night?” is our question to each other over breakfast.  And who would want a second night being kept awake by them?  We’ll squeeze in more meetings today and drive back to Kombo later.  

As we get ready to depart, it is Kira’s turn to lose track of keys: her car keys.  Without them we are stuck!  Happily, she finds them in her handbag, and we drive away from the place.  Kemo shakes his head in bewilderment.  “Did that madness really happen?” he asks, as he forages for his phone - whoops!  He’s left it in his room.