When I reach my lowest of lows – when times are so tough that the greatest solutions I can think of involve the characters of a Lyle Lovett song with a twist – a horse, a boat, and Muhammad Yunus – there is only one thing left to do. I walk 3 kilometers to town, pumping my music, staring off into the distance at clouds as they conform around each other, an explosion of dark colors, like emo Tetris pieces, and only as the sidewalk starts to give to the final stretch of castle and mosques, do I press my face against a shop window I know only too well and stick my tongue out. That is my warning signal. Inside, the masters prepare themselves for my entrance.
I swing open the door, grab a string of white cheese jerky from the silver tray on the left, plop my bag down next to the desk, throw my hand and head forward for an embrace, and slump into a black leather chair. My Cheese Men greet me, and then with trained patience and deep wisdom they say as much as a question as a statement – “how are you baby.” (more…)