"No, I haven't been to Somalia before, but I recognise it all the same."

So there I stand, toothbrush working away, in the right hand, water bottle in the left, sarong keeping me modest to the starry night, standing in front of the compound wall, doing my nightly choirs. I've seen this scene before. If I close my eyes... I can see the same scene in South Sudan...

The wind chills my back as I walk to the sorghum stock fence lining the compound in Pieri. The moon lights my way. I am grateful of its light, as I have learned not to step in the shadows (painful lessons stick the best.). I hear people at the water pump, pumping away, talking and joking, laughing, and playing. It is midnight, what are kids doing up at midnight, well, they are laughing, it must be good for them. The brushing continues.

I move up to the small mound so I can see over the fence; the moon has lit the area ahead of me, the path, the next compound, and all the way to the airstrip. "Bloonkk!" "Blauhonk!" Ah, the donkeys are going at it again tonight. (I've always wondered how you say, "I love you baby," in donkey.)

Slight tilt of the head back, chin up and lean forward. Armed with the remains of the battle between my oral micro-biology, and 'Colgate', I take aim and project at those damn termites that are eating the fence. I take a swig of water and attack other parts of the fence with a watered down version of my chemical weapon. I close my eyes... and I see further back to Sri Lanka...

I am the last one up again. I walk out of my tukel, toothbrush in my right hand, posed to do business to the remains of Silverani's wonderful curry dinner. Torch and waterbottle in the left. I head behind my tukel to the fence. The moon lights the night, but the palm trees hide me from the light . I turn on the torch briefly to ensure the path is clear (I've heard of people stepping on scorpions, doesn't sound nice) and it is clear, so I turn it off again to see the night again. "Mmmuoooowwwh" "Muooowh" Damn those cows are loud! Wonder what they are doing?

Tonight is the start of a poya-day celebration, and as such the (Hindu) temple nearby is playing loud loud music. (I don't understand this music. I don't understand why it is so loud either.) I hear people walking down the path, just on the other side of the palm leaf fence. I stop brushing and listen. They are talking clearly, two men, I can hear the words, but understand nothing, (as English still is my only language.) They move on, I brush on. I turn my torch on again, to locate that colony of ants which has harvested many parts of the fence. Tonight is payback time! I close my eyes... and I am back in Somalia...

Head up, chin raised, lean forward and project! Tonight, I'm just going for distance. There is nothing eating away our 2 foot thick, 9 foot high stone walls. No torch tonight, the moon is back. Wind chilling my back. "Baaah" "Baaah" a couple of goats communicating to each other a little distance away. (Did you know in goat, "Heyllloo Ladies" is pronounced, "Baaah". You can also use it for, "Where are you Mum?" and "Ok Kids, let's go!")

I hear a luffing sound and look up to see a string of plastic bags whipping in the breeze, trying to free themselves from the spiky fingers of the barbed wire. There are so many plastic bags around here. Today there was a wind, as there always is, but maybe it was a little more than usual. Anyway, I looked up to see, high in the sky, 30 to 50, maybe even 60 colourful birds, gliding in the air. Some were white, some blue, some er, ah, pink. WAIT a minute! Looking closer at the low ones, I could see those weren't birds as I know birds, thems was plastic bags, flying away to freedom, away from all the wire here in town. Funny stuff going on here. The wind started whipping the bags again on the wire, bringing me back to here and now, toothbrush in the right, water bottle in the left. I finish the rinse and go to bed. Pretty much as I've done most nights these last couple of years, give or take some minor details.

Steve