It is pre-dawn on a chill blue ocean and the mosque speakers come alive with a hiss and crackle and haunting call to prayer.

Allah hu Akbar.
Hayya ‘ala-l-falah, hayya ‘ala-l-falah.

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african dust is kicked up and blown west on the trade winds where it freezes in midair and falls on your tongue and mittens.

I blog about Africa because I was raised by one of her tribes. And because here things that are ragged are patched and cherished. Because sub Saharan thunderstorms are so deafening you have to believe in heaven. And mostly I blog about Africa because I want you to come, and fall in love.

Thanks awfully to whiteafrican for tagging me.
Also read Esther Garvi from Niger.