Day 30

Good things come to those who wait. Today, after 30 days in Mombasa, Kenya. A full month into my project-volunteering at Dickson's Children's Centre-it finally happened. I managed to get a matatu that goes straight from town to Dickson. I still had to make a transfer, but I can't tell you what bliss it was to not trudge through a 1/2 mile of mud. It really worked out nicely because I was carrying two 4-litre cans of paint with me. I painted the kids' swings and jungle gym and seesaw. I'll send pictures, they look SOOOO much better. First their exposure to new food, then some new knowledge, now a mini-makeover of their home, I just need to groom them a bit and I'll be a one man Queer Eye for the African Orphan!

In town I saw a first, a woman was lugging around a dead chicken by it's feet. It had not even been plucked yet, just strolling around with a shopping bag in one hand and an upside down dead chicken in another. This might be a good time to mention that stray chickens and goats are everywhere, which is kind of funny because in the movies it's always chickens and goats in the villages, so evidently that part is factually accurate.

I painted for four hours and still have work to do on Monday, but it looks soooooo much better. Due to the lack of supplies, by the end of my marathon painting spree my hands were covered in paint. I was washing it off when one of the housemoms came by and said I'd probably need some oil and she'd go get it. I thought she meant olive oil or baby oil. I thought wrong. What oil did she go get? Lamp oil, otherwise known as pure kerosene. She doused my hands with a bucket of kerosene. As mentioned a few days ago I have many cuts and scrapes all over, so when the kerosene hit my hands, I was writhing in agony. This pain was on top of the fear that I have no idea how much of a carcinogen kerosene is. Was it going to eat away at my flesh? Bring my hands to a high toxicity level? Ruin my French tips and make my acrylics fall off? As soon as she finished dousing me with gasoline I washed my hands in soap and water up to my elbows. Hopefully my hands will still be here tomorrow.

I rode the most crooked matatu on the way home. He was ripping off Kenyans as well as me. He even pushed a Kenyan out of the moving vehicle because the man was trying to resist getting off until he got the proper change. I went to Dormand's coffee shop and had a cheeseburger (GOD I've missed cheese) and then got on another matatu to go home. The fare is 10, he charged me 15 even though everyone within my sightline was paying 10 and he even bragged to the guy that he charged me 15 (my Swahili is getting really good as far as comprehension goes, speaking is another matter). Still, I was too exhausted to even bother, but it's just endless and insulting how much they rip us off. I also found out the DVDs that I buy for my kids at 500Ksh a pop are actually 250Ksh each. Do you see what fuckwads they are? DOUBLE the price? I mean Jesus.

We went and saw Shrek the Third tonite and it was pretty good and the cinema was actually really great in sound and picture and seating quality. And, as expected, the film was thoroughly enjoyable as well. I'm going to take my kids next Saturday. Tomorrow I'm going to White Sands and may get another massage as my body is literally in more pain than it's ever been. Between the random child attacks, the massive walking, the shitty bed, the no hot water, and the lack of proper diet and exercise, I'm always having back/neck/shoulder/testicle pain. The testes are probably achy from all the child trauma (see previous posts) and massive blue balls (see previous posts), but we won't know for sure til I get back to the States.

I forgot to mention that Juma, the bicyclist that took me to Dickson yesterday asked me if I was Japanese. That really struck me as odd given that I can't really say that I look Asian, but what's even more interesting is that it's not the first time I've been mistaken for Japanese. When I was in 6th grade we pushed some 4th graders out of the 4-Square playing area so that we could play and one of the kids told me to "Go back to Japan". It struck us as hilarious at the time, and when Juma asked if I was from Japan I nearly toppled the bicycle with my girlish giggles. To clear up any confusion, I'm not from Japan.

Although I have to admit, I think it says a lot that he would make that sort of mistake. It says to me that blacks generalize non-blacks in the same way whites generalize blacks and Asians. I mean, who here hasn't said or thought something along the lines of "Ya, they all look alike to me". Juma must just see black and non-black and that's that.

On my way home I had probably the scariest encounter I've had yet. It was about 11:00pm (no street lights, no people around) and I was mere yards away from my homestay when this guy and his 7 or 8 year old son approached me. He said "Hi" and I said "Hi, how are you", and he said "What're you doing here" and I said "Volunteering" and he said "I thought so, I always see you rushing off at like 6:45am and I said "Ya, I'm in Port Reitz so it takes a while to get there". Then he kind of went nuts. He was drunk and carrying liquor and started telling me how I was wasting my time and that if I wanted to help I should go back to work and work hard and save money and make a foundation to help these kids because teaching them is doing nothing. "I'm African, I know what I'm talking about, these children don't remember anything, they don't listen, you're wasting your time" going on and on in a very belligerent way. At first I was thinking "Ok, he's really passionate about his convictions and he's drunk and things are getting lost in the translation, but whatever, his kid is right here, he's not gonna do anything crazy" but then I remembered that there are about 14 kids at my center whose parents forced them into prostitution or sold them to pedophiles or raped or tortured the kids themselves. Yesterday Stallion told me that one of his girls' stepmother didn't want the girl to come visit her dad anymore so stepmom took the 8 year old girl to a man and had him rape her so that she'd be afraid to come back. If this is what parents do to their own children, how far could a drunken man beating up a stupid volunteer in front of his son be? He finally stopped shouting and went inside, but I was very slowly clenching my fists so I could throw a few punches if need be. It was the first time since I've been here that I actually felt threatened...and it was not a good feeling.

Finally: Heather S and Mara M- for the love of God, I finally get you two off each other's throats and now you're on to Kelly from MN? Ladies, calm yourselves, there's plenty of Nima to go around. I know how to keep my bitches satisfied. And Kelly from MN- I'm sorry but between my wife in DC, my wife in LA and my two mistresses in NYC, I'm a tired man. This relationship is nothing but an online fantasy that will have to remain unconsumated in life.

Ok, I'm tired. Sayonara and domo arigato.