This is MY Bongo

Today I think I kind of lost my mental hard drive somewhere between drafting a speech on behalf of a person whose hand I may never shake; streets of Mkwepu, Samora, Askari, India and Azikiwe, navigating between parking guys, car washers, water sellers, shoe makers, mkokoteni drivers, coffee makers and newspaper front pages wanting so hard to be picked out and paid for by revealing what may be true, may be fictional intrigues of a political party; trying to beat a photo copy operation resembling a military action, iced lattes, and a friend with overview handing over keys to a place full of solutions.