The sound of a neighbor's scooter broke through the serene atmosphere at home on a Monday night, sending surrounding dogs into a state of terror and constant barking.
Once the motorbike vanished onto a darkened pathway, the barking diminished with time. Suddenly, Black Sherif's voice echoed through the closed doors into the living room, where I was seated, pondering the events of the day.
My wife stepped in just as I was beginning to wonder where the voice was coming from. On her phone, she was playing Kwaku The Traveller.
"I believe Matt will enjoy this song," she said. Her younger brother is Matt.
She was confident that the brother would enthusiastically embrace Sherif's hustler's hymn. She expressed herself.