It's still dark when the call to prayer wakes me up.
There are three mosques within earshot of my apartment. Sometimes a fourth, farther away, can be heard if the morning is especially calm.
They never start at precisely the same time; they're staggered maybe fifteen seconds and usually it feels like they're having a shouting contest.
I toss the sheets back and my feet thump against cool tile. This is hot season and it feels good to take in the coolness before the day begins. I know well enough that it won't last long.
My neighbors are waking up, too. Someone has the radio on. I try to listen but the broadcast is in Wolof and not French, so I give up. Dishes clatter. A car starts somewhere.
I walk to the kitchen to start the teakettle. On the hottest days, the unheated water from the shower head is refreshing, but this morning the temperature is on the cooler side - only for now - and I want just enough hot water to take the edge off a bucket shower. I dip a bucket from the blue barrel and set it in the bathroom.
A horse cart or two rattles down the dirt path between my apartment building and the next - deliveries for the boutiques. It might be onions or sodas or gas cans.
The teakettle whistles. I swallow the last bite of breakfast and close my Bible.
The sun's slanted rays are coming up when I finish getting ready and tie my head-scarf on with a flourish. I grab my bag and head out for French class.
One of the neighbors passes me in the stairwell and we exchange greetings. Out in front of the building, the breakfast lady has set up her table. She'll be serving sandwiches and maybe omelets a bit later.
It's started to warm up a bit, but it still feels comfortable right now. If only I could lock this temperature in place for the rest of the day.
Traffic in my neighborhood is still mostly calm. The buses are all packed, though - that's why I choose walking - and about twenty minutes from my apartment, there's a turnabout that will be predictably jammed. That's what happens when you have only one main road through the quartier.
People are on their way to work or school, and the collective noise level is inching up as I continue my walk past bakeries, shops, and offices.
Every day the city goes through this transformation, from sleepy to awake with the life of 2.5 million people.
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