The consistency of the earth between his front door and his Toyota always irked Rodney to no end, but he could take solace in the fact that his path would be shortened by the absence of his children, who were celebrating that institution of youth known as the ‘Saturday’ by sleeping in.

Additionally, the road to the University was paved, which was more than could be said of many of the local roads. The country was actually quite well off as African nations went; the U.S. State Department had informed Rodney that the people were in fact the most privileged and wealthy people on the African continent. This helped Rodney to avoid leaning out his car window and dispensing buckets of quarters to the downtrodden masses, as had once been his fantasy.

The tough, warm concrete floors University-side also helped shake off the red earth that always caked Rodney’s dress shoes on his brief walk to the car each morning. Rodney vainly tried to knock the crimson soil from his shoes, but the damn stuff was caked on with a consistency that only a trained shoeshine boy could dent it.

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