One of the chief blessings of the new (temporary) home is access to a lush, tree-lined compound (it feels like an acre for 3 houses). 9 of us volunteers live in two houses at opposite ends of the compound. The week we moved in, someone suggested volleyball. As always, I am amazed by the speed and execution of sporting facilities construction* here. T and the other guards grabbed a machete and went to work. In an hour the volleyball net was up. These lockdown days. As the blazing afternoon sun fades, we abandon our laptops and head to the garden. I marvel at the dexterity with which my neighbours and housemates set and spike and dig, with arms, with fists, with foreheads, with the lateral edge of a foot. I have long felt that ball games are not my forte (a suspicion first engendered by playing tennis with my 5-years-older, kinesthetically-gifted brother, and fossilized by a childhood entrenched in books and craft and musical dabbling). Experiences of activities requiring hand-eye coordi...