The wife of the French ambassador in Burkina Faso is restless. Here, ambassadors’ wives are not permitted to work, and her days are spent practicing opera songs and playing tennis. When an annoyed look arises on her face as harsh clanging from nearby workers interrupts her afternoon dip, her obliviousness to her privilege glistens in the sunlight from atop her inflatable pool chair. That these men are tirelessly fixing the tennis courts, gardening, and tending to other parts of the grounds is of no concern. And yet her solitude echoes across the empty courtyard of her husband’s estate as she walks alone and nameless. Her diligent singing sessions result in an in-house concert only sparsely attended by guests. Astutely observed with rhythm and grace, the warring feelings between sympathy and judgment speak to a more complex discussion of how race, class, and gender intersect for people in this postcolonial country.  KR