The Muslim call to prayer can be heard through the loudspeakers. A baby tests her lung capacity by screaming outside my window. Gospel music echos from the nearby church. A baboon does what sounds like an aerobics class on the tin roof above my head. Then a rooster crows, getting louder and louder until it sounds like it has snuck into my room and is crowing directly into my ear.
In an unprecedented team effort, the community of Mutomo has come together to disrupt any hopes I had of sleeping in on the weekend. These creatures do not observe Sundays.
Arising early on the weekend means I can feel smugly productive and accomplished for the rest of the day, but then I realize all the mamas have been up since dawn cleaning, feeding their family, looking after the children, as well as running the entire household, and they still find time for church, so I really can't compare. But getting up that early does minimize the guilt if I decide to doze off later while reading a book.
Five primary schools are nearing completion of their pit latrines, so next Friday my peer educators make their debut hand washing lesson at the first school. It's already been made clear that I am their agent and manager to book their gigs, and any offers for additional promotions or endorsements need to go through me first. I know a good thing when I see it.