There is a downside to staying on our side porches to write or to sip a cup of black coffee. Late in the afternoon or early in the evening I see compound tenants trudge in through the main gate, up the driveway, and into their tenement rooms looking as though they'd been ravaged by work, mentally battered by their supervisors, completely exhausted, hungry, seemingly in need of money, and coming home once more from another day of broken dreams.