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Southern Sudan, Fall 2008
Mar. 5th, 2009 10:16 pmIt's a pretty simple room -- bed in one corner, dresser in another, desk in the third and door to the hall in the fourth.
The bed is neatly made. There are toiletries arranged on one side of the dresser; the other side holds a row of paperbacks, spines lined up, flush and precise, between plain metal bookends. The middle of the dresser holds a carved wooden box.
The there's a laptop on the desk, speaker for an MP3 player, and a picture frame with two pictures -- a man, about forty, with brown hair and eyes and (improbably) a handlebar moustache. And a boy, nine or ten, with reddish brown hair and his mother's smile.
The only thing on the wall is a bulletin board, above the desk. It holds a few other photographs, a postcard view of Montreal, three to do lists, and slightly cryptic advice, You cannot worry about every sparrow.
Dr. Meghan Marriner has called this room home for almost a month now.
She's entering notes into the laptop, back to the closed door, Beethoven (the violin concerto) playing on the speakers.
It's been a long, long day.
The bed is neatly made. There are toiletries arranged on one side of the dresser; the other side holds a row of paperbacks, spines lined up, flush and precise, between plain metal bookends. The middle of the dresser holds a carved wooden box.
The there's a laptop on the desk, speaker for an MP3 player, and a picture frame with two pictures -- a man, about forty, with brown hair and eyes and (improbably) a handlebar moustache. And a boy, nine or ten, with reddish brown hair and his mother's smile.
The only thing on the wall is a bulletin board, above the desk. It holds a few other photographs, a postcard view of Montreal, three to do lists, and slightly cryptic advice, You cannot worry about every sparrow.
Dr. Meghan Marriner has called this room home for almost a month now.
She's entering notes into the laptop, back to the closed door, Beethoven (the violin concerto) playing on the speakers.
It's been a long, long day.
