Singing

Every Friday the ante-natal staff choose the concrete outside my office window as a place to collect urine samples from the pregnant women. So I’m usually serenaded by a gaggle of women chatting and laughing, and often a few children crying.

Today, as the women had their protein and glucose levels checked, the two staff with the dipping-sticks began to sing. In harmony. It was like a gentle lullaby, and while the child they were trying to placate still winged and griped, I felt myself being soothed and relaxed.

Now, as I type, the same expectant mothers have gathered in the hall, and their singing voices and clapping are rising above the grumble of the generator.

Musical moments in Africa.