As I picked my pen to write, it’s a Friday night or more accurately-Saturday morning (but I guess it is better described as Friday night). The clock chimes and as I glance at it, it momentarily stops at 3.00 as if waiting for me to take note.

There are noises around, from different directions but all harmoniously forming a hum. In my mind’s eye, I follow the sounds and take them in singly.

There is the croaking of toads from a puddle of water perhaps in some unfinished building down the streets, they seem to be enjoying the cold weather and not bothering about any other creature around them. Well, why won’t they? (Life is beautiful).

“Ammennnnnn!!!” I got distracted from the toad by the thunderous shouts from the Pentecostal church three streets away. They are engaged in a heart-rending, sweat-releasing, muscle-exercising, and body-weakening prayer with loud shouts of “Amen” intermittently. I get absorbed in the prayer although, hearing them inaudibly except for the shouts. Those prayers are the type that makes one sure no witch or wizard can operate within a five-mile radius of the church. So, I am covered for that night and I drift away again.

At intervals, the wind blows  the recitations and prayers from a mosque further away to my direction. I cannot hear the responses of the worshippers but I thought to myself “the leader must be doing a lot of work to keep the worshippers awake (vigils are not easy)”.

Thank God it’s Friday, an “owambe” was happening somewhere about a half- kilometer away or so. Wondering how I hear sounds from that far, the night is always more quiet so sound tends to be heard at a farther distance than during the day. Drummers were doing a lot of energy exertion, one of the drummers was be beating the drum with so much consistency and fervency that made me believe he or she  must be “high” on something illegal. Because, I cannot understand how someone will be beating a drum for hours non-stop (I stand to be corrected anyway). I can imagine the party-makers in clusters; talking, drinking, dancing or just taking in the events in their surroundings.

Suddenly I heard voices at the back of our fence; some people were exchanging greetings and I was wondering where they were coming from or headed to.

The night-guard of the area blew his whistle and I looked at the clock again. “What??!” it is four in the morning. I need to get back to sleep. It is going to be a long day; my friend is getting married and I am the event planner.
I dropped my pen still hearing the humming but this time allowing it to rock me back to dreamland.

How are Friday nights in your community? share with us.