Zangbeto Lullaby

I could feel my eyes begin to well up as my brain chemistry was transported back to being a five year old boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. While I have been known as a sensitive guy I won't blame my sensitivity this time, no way no how sir. Rather, perhaps a lethal combo of not understanding the language and something akin to homesickness, and yet not. We'll call it foreign fatigue, alliteration trumps convention.
The problem at hand involved my being caught, like a bandit, emptying out my uneaten bowl of flour and water, somewhat of a staple food here, and the food given to me when I returned from a bank visit to Savalou. To add to my uneasiness was the complete lack of blood flow in my derriere due to the long moto ride. While the charm of riding a zem is undeniable, it begins to wear off after the twentieth minute.
I had thought that things were all hunky-dorey with my elderly neighbor/proprietor but it turns out that hell hath no fury like an old wrinkled woman. My colleague informed of my faux-pas and I was forced to face the lion. After a litany of Fon words had been thrown my way Grande-Maman broke the otherwise awkward moment with strange song and dance routine, which I was thankful for. My spirit was instantly lifted. Apparantly, it was a song that kids sing here when they get caught doing something bad, e.g. throwing out there strange flour porridge concoction.
Happiness became me, but I was still a bit shaken due to my road weariness and "foreign fatigue". It turns out everything is okay with my Grande-Maman. Like most things in this country, people begin with shouting and end with laughter, a custom I heartily admire. Dinner with my colleague allowed me to put things back in perspective and the moon and stars did the rest. I'm sure the palm wine helped as well.
A moon halo was my constant companion on the walk back home, where I greeted Grande-Maman warmly, no harm no foul I suppose. Sleep was ushered in by the whistling sound of the zangbetos in front of the temples, as deep night took hold in Aklampa. Remember, like America, if Maman ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.