The Ethiopians on the balcony are drumming (indoors) and the call & response sounds like a Lakota Sioux "Budwieser" chant. Where's your audio recorder when you need it? The chant I really wanted to record was of the woman who sang to the to the east one Sunday morning, with a crooning chicken in her hands raised up to the rising sun—before the fateful dispatch. A crack of cartilage followed by the bell sound of bloodletting into the metal washbasin. Added a new twist to the Chicken Every Sunday idea. I couldn't see her, only her shadow playing against the wall. The apartments next door were crack flats (that was exciting) then the complex was sold. For a while it was Little Mexico, then it changed hands again & seems to be a half-way station for the newly arrived—mainly from Africa. No one ever stays long. So it’s hard to meet the neighbors. Everyone lives outside on the lanai, it seems. The balconies look like overloaded Tiajuana busses with their oversized outdoor refrigerators. They love to party late midweek. I could do without the 1AM wake ups & flicked cigarette butts. But it was collectively abfab when Obama got elected. We all did a call & response O-ba-ma, O-ba-ma. O-ba-ma. Only in Oaktown! And then one night I was awakened by a bunch of drunk Africans (on another balcony) singing ala Ladysmith, in harmony, albeit drunkenly. I stood in the moonlight at 3 AM, mesmerized. It never happened again. They come and go like the seasons.
- THE ETHIOPIANS ON THE BALCONY several takes, I never did get it right.
- from Facebook 8/21
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