Day 41

Holy motherfucking hell. Every day is another fucking debacle. I just spent an HOUR trying to get onto my blog. Every other internet site I've been using has been working, but for whatever reason, fucking piece of shit Google can't get its shit together and let my fucking blog load. In case you didn't know, Blogger is a Google product.

Ok, so this morning was the third time I got the Port Reitz matatu so I didn't have to walk a mile this morning. Olina was on the matatu with her mother Ruth. Ruth is one of the housemoms and Ruth brings her 3 year old daughter Olina to Dickson with her. Yesterday I had Ruth tell Olina in Swahili that if Olina wanders too far ahead of the group (as she ALWAYS does) that she can no longer go on walks with us. Well Olina was bitchy with me all day yesterday and today she saw me on the matatu, rolled her eyes, and looked away the WHOLE ride to Dickson. She's a fucking cunt...and I love it! A three year old with enough brains to hold a grudge? How fucking awesome is that?!? She's definitely head cheerleader/prom queen material.

I bought "Drum" magazine for Goretty, the cunty housemom. She asked me to buy it for her yesterday and I agreed. Guess what whore-bag-coke-sniffing-Valtrex-popping-piece-of-guttertrash-skank is the "celebrity" profile in this month's issue. Paris Hilton. That dirty tampon of a woman has even made it to the far corners of Kenya. There's no escaping her. Or Anderson Cooper.

Clueless got to work and as a result had to sweep with one of those bundle of sticks that the housemoms use instead of a western style broom. I was secretly (but obviously) smiling the whole time.

Moses tried to help me sweep today, but instead just made it worse. Why do children do this? They always want to help, but only with things that they cannot possibly be helpful in. He just spread all the dust and dirt back around. When I was painting the kids got paint on everything EXCEPT the object to be painted. What is it with being a child and being an annoying piece of shit that go hand in hand? Like peanut butter and jelly, like cookies and milk, like lube and assholes, being a child and being a piece of shit just seem to fit.

There was no power at Dickson today. In fact, there was no power beginning yesterday before I left, so it's been well over 24 hours. This morning we also ran out of water. No water, no electricity, 30 kids, 3 housemoms, a cook, 4 volunteers. It was trying to say the least. What was most trying of all today, however, were the little offspring of Hades that pass for my afternoon students. I was trying to do an old version of their final exam with them all afternoon. On Monday, they have a series of finals that determine whether or not they can go on to the next grade in September. Not only did they do poorly, but they wouldn't listen to me either. I'll be really sad if they don't pass. Of course, I'll be back in gorgeous NYC on Monday, so really who cares? Let the fuckers fail.

I know I talk a lot of shit about my kids, but you all know I love them dearly and am really really really freaking out. I think I'm about to have a melt down. I keep getting really worked up and am sooooooooooo not ready to leave them. I don't think I'll be back in Kenya until August of 2008, which is a full fucking year and some change! That's so long. They're all really grasping that I leave on Saturday, they keep saying stuff like "Sleep over" EVERY day and "Are you still leaving on Saturday" and "You only have three days left". It's honestly grating and grinding little slivers off my heart every time they say something. I just dropped off a CD at a photo place with 100 photos, so hopefully they won't forget me too soon. No, the 100 photos aren't of me, only 98 of them are of me. The other two are of Madonna.