But this long day hasn’t been quite long enough. Ms. Azango, a journalist, needs to come back on Monday to finish reporting a story about midwives for her newspaper, Front Page Africa.
In the taxi, her phone rings. She’s been ignoring it all morning â€“ she’s been working â€“ but now she can answer. She listens quietly, and then she bursts into a belly laugh.
This is not a good sign.
Azango laughs all the time â€“ but often not out of joy. She laughs out of disbelief, or disgust, or sheer frustration. For her, laughter is an indictment or a protest â€“ a sign not that she feels carefree, but that something around her is terribly wrong.
The sudden guffaw in the back of the taxi, though, ends as quickly as it began.