THE LIFE

We wake up together, at 6:40 am, the sun is already high up. Morning kiss and it’s time to get up. We have our breakfast (yoghurt, toast and the lovely pineapple and mangos) in the living room overlooking the Gulf of Guinea and we chat about unimportant things. We laugh and enjoy every bit of being in love.

We leave together a few minutes before eight and meet the other couple, our neighbours, downstairs. The men work together (how handsome they look in their smart clothes!) and we, the girls, drive them to the office. When they get out of the car (they sit in the back, of course), they give us a goodbye kiss through the open windows and we leave.

We get to the gym at quarter past and prepare for the class. My neighbour chats to the other ladies, they all know each other, of course. I wish I could speak French. The class goes very well, I enjoy the work-out, even though I sweat like never before (no air-conditioning can battle this humidity).

Everybody looks at me curiously: “She’s so white she must be new”. Even the blonde Russian lady looks like Naomi Campbell when compared to me. My neighbour informs some of her friends where I’m from and whose girlfriend I am.

After the class the ladies chat some more and I feel left out because of the language. But I’ll learn, it’s only a matter of time. And suntan.

We get into the car again (it must be fifty degrees inside but outside is no better) and we drive on to the supermarket (the green Geant, as it’s more French than Mbolo, apparently). We have a nice talk on the way, she tells me about the beginnings of her African life. We do our grocery shopping (I get two leeks and a local grapefruit beverage) and she keeps bumping into people she knows, having friendly chats with all of them, always smiling. We pay with the funny banknotes and I try to figure out if I overpaid. I soon give up. I need a calculator.

I get home at eleven and take a quick shower. I rest a bit and start cooking (chicken with leek and garlic plus rice). Punctually, at one, my man gets home and finds his lunch ready. He goes back to work and I wash up, even though he offered to do it.

I go out for a little walk. I read a book. I watch an episode of “Friends”. I check my email. I start a blog. I fill my silences with small pleasures. I constantly choose a life for myself and discard the choice.

At six he comes back and we spend the evening together. He’s right in time for the sunset, an amazing spectacle, which we watch, hugging tightly, from our terrace and it somehow seems magical. I brush my teeth thinking of the life I’ll choose tomorrow.

DISCLAIMER: this is only "inspired by" and NOT not "based on".