The night before the night before...
I had a headache. A terrible terrible headache. And waves of nausea gripped me like an abortive surf - always threatening, never fully breaking through. I often get migraines, but this was worse than anything I'd felt in a long time. It took me back - way back to my childhood, when I used to get the dreaded disease that makes you weak and anorexic as the taste of your food turns to ash in your mouth; even my appetite was gone. Forget Delhi Belly, if I lost the fabled Belfast Stone(s) in India it was unlikely to be from diarrhoea. This was what what would do it - doxycycline. Not even malaria itself: its prophylaxis.
When my doctor prescribed me doxycycline he told me the side effects were mild, but to make sure to take it with food and wear sunscreen - because it causes photosensitivity even in someone of my skin pigmentation. I couldn't believe it. Me, wear sunscreen? What is all my melanin for? Am I not an African? Why did I need protection from the 'third world' - sunscreen, insect repellent, anti-malarials, don't drink this, don't eat that, be careful who you talk to? I'm cautious by nature but all this seemed a bit OTT. Until the doxycycline hit and I remembered that I am not as sturdy as I like to think - in fact, I was quite a sickly little child in Africa. It's strange how little control you have over your own body. So, precautions it would have to be, with the following song sounding eerily familiar (as you are to discover in subsequent posts). Enjoy the video link! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULjCSK0oOlI
You Can Call Me Al
A man walks down the street
He says why am I soft in the middle now
Why am I soft in the middle
The rest of my life is so hard
I need a photo opportunity
I want a shot at redemption
Don’t want to end up a cartoon
In a cartoon graveyard
Bone-digger, bone-digger
Dogs in the moonlight
Far away my well-lit door
Mr. Beerbelly, beerbelly
Get these mutts away from me
You know I don’t find this stuff
Amusing anymore
If you’ll be my bodyguard
I can be your long lost pal
I can call you Betty
And Betty when you call me
You can call me Al
A man walks down the street
He says why am I short of attention
Got a short little span of attention
And woe my nights are so long
Where’s my wife and family
What if I die here
Who’ll be my role model
Now that my role model is
Gone gone
He ducked back down the alley
With some roly-poly little bat-faced girl
All along along
There were incidents and accidents
There were hints and allegations
If you’ll be my bodyguard
I can be your long lost pal
I can call you Betty
And Betty when you call me
You can call me Al
A man walks down the street
It’s a street in a strange world
Maybe it’s the third world
Maybe it’s his first time around
He doesn’t speak the language
He holds no currency
He is a foreign man
He is surrounded by the sound
The sound
Cattle in the marketplace
Scatterlings and orphanages
He looks around around
He sees angels in the architecture
Spinning in infinity
He says Amen and Hallelujah
If you’ll be my bodyguard
I can be your long lost pal
I can call you Betty
And Betty when you call me
You can call me Al
Na na na na …
If you’ll be my bodyguard
I can be your long lost pal
I can call you Betty
And Betty when you call me
You can call me Al
Call me Al
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