last night

11:47pm Phone rings.

 

It's Ravi, one of the boys from Randolph who is teaching down in Miami. He called me a few nights ago five hours before Hurrican Wilma hit.

Dat: Hello?

Ravi: (distressed) Hey, it's Ravi.

 

(line goes out)

 

I call back

 

Dat: Hey

Ravi:Hey man.

Dat : How you holding up?

Ravi: It's crazy here. No electricity, no running water. I had to wait in line for four hours this morning for a five gallon tank of gas. There a curfew, man. Everything is soo dark.

Dat: Wow. That is crazy.

Ravi: Yeah, even..(line goes fuzzy)

Dat: Hey, I can't hear you.

 

Line cuts out.

 

12:30am Phone rings again.

 

Dat: Hey man

Ravi: Yeah, even t-mobile has...(line cuts out)

 

I text him, and tell him he should come and stay in DC for a while, until things get better.

 

He tries calling me back at 1am, and again at 1:30am. Both times the phone only rings once before it cuts out. I have never heard Ravi sound frantic. I think looting, I'm thinking starvation.  And here I was, in my heated room, confortable in my sheets falling asleep to Gill Scott.

 

I still haven't heard from him this morning.