Because Fridays are workdays back home...

It's about noon in Djibouti, and I have been here for nearly 4 hours finishing up details on an administrative document that is due today.  Normally, I would sleep until 10 am or later on a day off anywhere in the world, and the Djiboutians seem to agree with me.  As my first venture out on a Friday, I hadn't a notion what to expect.  My colleague and I sat for about 20 minutes on the wall near our apartment building ...just... ...awaiting... for a minibus to drive by.  The buildings and kiosks were closed up.  Only a few hearty pedestrians wandered by.  Several green and white taxis (with red velour interiors) slowly snuck past us, popping off short "hey there!" honks in case somehow we wouldn't notice them in the otherwise empty street, and then in bewilderment driving off.  My colleague and I snickered about the taxis a little at first, and... continued... to wait.  Turns out the taxi drivers were right: the Americans were nuts to be waiting for a bus on a Friday morning, so eventually we jumped in and paid the $3 fare.

Many offices close for the weekend around noon on Thursdays, and earlier if the power happens to go out again.  Yesterday was fruitful morning for us: meetings with the folks at CFPEN that use audio and video production to complement teacher training.  Incredibly, this is seperate from the audio-visual department in the CRIPEN (national educational print and broadcast house) and focuses on producing films that model teaching instruction to new and in-service teachers.  We helped them request new A/V equipment from AED's budget, and brainstormed ways to make their work even more interactive and impactful.  Then, we wandered up to the Teacher Resource Center to interview its personnel about the inventory and functioning.  It is one of 5 AED-funded libraries in Djibouti where IFESH will work at honing potential.  Alas!  With the power out, the TRC personnel had "saved themselves" and dashed home.  So, with my deadline looming and the computer screen staring at me vacantly, we wandered home to wait out the sweltering hours of powerlessness.