I was not going to write about this, as I imagined my poor mother back in France drinking cups of tea and praying for her eldest daughter to return home - without stopping over in Lybia - and realise that there is no better place on earth than Normandy… But this is too good an insight into the way things can happen here… And I am not sure, my mum knows about blogging… 
A few days ago, I was woken up at 3am, by some banging and shouting at the bedroom window. Our usual night guard Adama had gone off to visit relatives in the countryside for a few days, and was replaced by Jean-Baptiste… who was now telling me, there were people outside wanting to kill him, could I please call the landlord straight away. It took me some time to realise what he was saying in his broken French, and as he would not calm down, I dialled the number. Augustin must have been fast asleep, he did not pick up the phone, but called back a few minutes, telling us to stay put and not to open the door. Aurelie, who is staying with me at the moment was now fully awake and pondering, whether the front door was sturdy enough, shall we move the fridge in front of it…
Within 15 minutes, we could hear people talking in moré outside, Augustin was telling Jean-Baptiste off and the poor guy was still shaking… ‘He just had a nightmare’ he told us, ‘too much dolo’ (the local homemade beer)… ‘Get back to sleep’… there was nothing better to do, so I did. While Aurelie was reliving it all and thinking that when you have a nightmare, you soon wake up and realise it was just a bad dream. This did not add up.
So the next day, I asked Augustin what exactly happened, he stuck to his guns, he’d come with four people, just in case, but by the time they reached the house, it was all quiet and he was adamant, Jean-Baptiste had made it all up.
Now if you have the luck to rent a house to a Nassara, a white person, it’s a nice steady source of income, and you’d rather not scare them off… that’s what we were thinking. Indeed in the evening, Jean-Baptiste was only too happy to get it off his chest… the guys were after him. There was a robbery in Augustin’s warehouse next door a few months ago, Jean-Baptiste and him caught the guy red-handed and he was sent to jail. Last night, the robber’s brothers realised Jean-Baptiste was back and decide to take revenge… I asked him, if he was okay to carry on working here, did he want to be replaced, Adama our usual night guard was back the next day anyway? But he said, he was quite happy to stay on and proudly showed me the machette, he’d brought with him. Now, we were in safe hands! And because Augustin must have felt a tiny bit guilty, he finally finished building the outdoor kitchen, he'd been promising me for over three months now. All is well that ends well!
A few days ago, I was woken up at 3am, by some banging and shouting at the bedroom window. Our usual night guard Adama had gone off to visit relatives in the countryside for a few days, and was replaced by Jean-Baptiste… who was now telling me, there were people outside wanting to kill him, could I please call the landlord straight away. It took me some time to realise what he was saying in his broken French, and as he would not calm down, I dialled the number. Augustin must have been fast asleep, he did not pick up the phone, but called back a few minutes, telling us to stay put and not to open the door. Aurelie, who is staying with me at the moment was now fully awake and pondering, whether the front door was sturdy enough, shall we move the fridge in front of it…
Within 15 minutes, we could hear people talking in moré outside, Augustin was telling Jean-Baptiste off and the poor guy was still shaking… ‘He just had a nightmare’ he told us, ‘too much dolo’ (the local homemade beer)… ‘Get back to sleep’… there was nothing better to do, so I did. While Aurelie was reliving it all and thinking that when you have a nightmare, you soon wake up and realise it was just a bad dream. This did not add up.
So the next day, I asked Augustin what exactly happened, he stuck to his guns, he’d come with four people, just in case, but by the time they reached the house, it was all quiet and he was adamant, Jean-Baptiste had made it all up.
Now if you have the luck to rent a house to a Nassara, a white person, it’s a nice steady source of income, and you’d rather not scare them off… that’s what we were thinking. Indeed in the evening, Jean-Baptiste was only too happy to get it off his chest… the guys were after him. There was a robbery in Augustin’s warehouse next door a few months ago, Jean-Baptiste and him caught the guy red-handed and he was sent to jail. Last night, the robber’s brothers realised Jean-Baptiste was back and decide to take revenge… I asked him, if he was okay to carry on working here, did he want to be replaced, Adama our usual night guard was back the next day anyway? But he said, he was quite happy to stay on and proudly showed me the machette, he’d brought with him. Now, we were in safe hands! And because Augustin must have felt a tiny bit guilty, he finally finished building the outdoor kitchen, he'd been promising me for over three months now. All is well that ends well!
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