My village looks different from the inside of an air conditioned SUV.

This morning, I received my second visit from the assistant director of my program. The SUV bumped up the dirt road to my school as I reviewed the present perfect tense with my class of 5eme students for their exam next week. I was alerted to its arrival by one of my students yelling “Stranger!” and pointing out the door of our classroom.

Vehicles are not common in my village. The narrow dirt roads make driving anything larger than a motorcycle impractical and inconvenient. Even on the highway, most of the taxis are manufactured before I was born. It is not possible to travel inconspicuously through my village when you are traveling by bright white SUV. 

As I rode to the lunch with my assistant director after he had observed my class, I waved to my students who we passed. I saw the people who I normally greet as I pedal by on my way to school stop talking mid-conversation to watch as we drove by. The Mama who sells gas on the side of the road looked up startled, wondering who was inside the car.

When we pulled in front of the house of the president of the PTA, I thought about how I much prefer to travel by bicycle on foot around my village. How I much prefer that there isn’t glass between me and my community.