As I walk on my morning commute I pass a place where the sand road becomes paved. On my way home after my first day of work I stepped off the paved road onto the sand road, became slightly disoriented, and had to ask for directions to my hotel. I sit in my office, the conference room, the ceiling fan rotates, it’s forty degrees outside, I write on my MacBook. I meet with a colleague, we talk plans, plans change, plans change again, we hear a goat, I think it’s his ringtone, turns out it’s a goat in the courtyard. We talk about culture, his culture, my culture, the things we like, the things we don’t like, we talk of MacBooks in mud huts, we decide: why not? I think of how to speak to a group of African farmers and union leaders, what we have in common, what we don’t, do I need to explain sustainability? I think of Africa, how the continent has changed since my last visit, my dad sends me an Economist article about growth in the Africa continent over the last ten years. I am the first back from lunch, I am locked out, I wonder if it’s forty degrees in the shade as I sit in the shade. Two donkeys pull a corrugated iron cart along the street, an air-conditioned Mercedes Benz comes from the other direction, helmet- less drivers ride by on scooters, how hot does it have to be before people stop wearing wool hats? I walk home, we move forward, we move backward, we look forwards, we look backwards, I pass the place where two roads meet, and I wonder where we go from here?