I write Annie about a typical day in Kikwit
Behind our house in Kikwit: the Kwilu River; in the foreground the pointed pool umbrellas; and the groundsman. On this day ... March 17, 1968 . Dear Annie*, I was floating in our pool when your letter came. I paddled over to the ladder and pulled myself up and yanked my towel off the sun umbrella, where it was drying lickety-split in the equitorial sun, and rubbed down. I was thinking, maybe a letter from you will help me. These latter afternoons have been heavy on the spirit. I teach till one p.m. I’m happy in front of the kids. But it’s a tug-of-war with the lead weight of the lethargy of the centuries at the other end. One example of the weight: most believe that the world is flat. At one thirty our domestique , Baudouin, serves us the three-course European dinner. The weather is now at its hottest, 85 degrees F. That is not counting the humidity. I want to retreat to myself then and do some writing. ...