Ceiling and I have been spending a lot of time in Enugu. I love Enugu, the sense of restfulness; it has a certain ambition about it – the mall, the new roads – but it retains a small-town feel. Here, strangers still greet one another. And I love this house. An old house in GRA painted a fresh and blistering white, with a wrought iron verandah wrapped around it. Inside is very modern and clean and tile-shiny, but the old charm remains: those louvers made of thick glass that you shut carefully so you don’t break them. The compound walls are draped in purple bougainvillea. The yard is wide. It goes on forever, filled with trees and bushes that bloom spiky red flowers. In the back, three frangipani trees hold court, their branches beautifully gnarled. They shield a painted blue bench, which is as sturdy, as rooted as a tree. Yesterday, after a brief rain, we sprayed OFF on our legs and arms, sat on that bench in the evening cool, and ate boiled corn and ube. Bliss.