Day 18 v2.0

I am an uppper-middle class American pussy; I am not a Kenyan. This is the mantra I need to tell myself daily because I got too bold and it came to bite me on the ass.

Last night I got home and there were a ton of people there. As if the place isn't small enough and we aren't already on top of each other, they like to host so there are even more people there. They were perfectly nice, but man what I'd give for an hour of solitude at home. Sadly, that will not happen here. Anyway, we ate dinner and I quickly retired to my room and dicked around and what not. Then at 10pm I went to the bathroom and it started. And it went on all night long; every two hours like clockwork. I finally got some immodium this morning and was taking cipro (which I brought with me) so it's under control now, but fuck man, it sucked. Further, what kind of jackass travels to a 3rd world country without some fucking immodium? I have no idea what I was thinking when I packed. So, how did I get sick? Those fucking street mangoes. Why must everything I love turn to shit? (haha. I didn't even mean to make that joke)

The mangoes are "washed" in a bucket of water that sits next to the fruit stand all day and are then peeled and handed over. What on earth possessed me to think that my fragile little self (and getting littler every day) could handle that is beyond me. Last year I purchased mangoes and took them to Dickson and washed and cut them myself. I will be doing that from now on.

I got to Dickson late because I was dealing with the above and I got there just in time for our morning walk with the little ones. Along the way the teacher stopped and had them try to throw rocks over the power line. She's really great like that. She'll find some little, retarded activity that will keep them busy for hours. So we sat there for a solid 20 minutes as they kept picking up little stones and trying to make it over the power line. It was so fucking cute because they would wind their arms like 10 times before releasing the rock (so as to gain some momentum on their throw) but they would wind their arms the wrong way! They would wind and wind and wind underhanded and then before throwing they'd stop and throw the rock overhand. It was so stupid and so endearing. I loved it. And the squeal they would make when one of the rocks would actually make it over was truly delicious.

I was laying pretty low because I was still super dehydrated and my stomach wasn't feeling so great, so I just laid about a lot and folded laundry and stuff like that. I didn't have to go in, but I didn't want to just lay around the apartment all day, I'd rather lay about with the kids around.

I realized I'm not at all lonely or sad when I'm with them. All of that melts away. It's once I leave, and when I get up in the morning, and until I get there. It's getting pretty ridiculous. At this point I'd gladly have a lunch date with a Republican if only to speak in American-English and get the same pop cultural references.

It's really so diffrent this time not having the i-to-i people around. Again, I didn't go out with them very much at all- they would have dinners and go for drinks and stuff (there's this allegedly scary/hysterical place that's a bar/prostitution spot called Casablanca's here that I never went to that they seemed to like), but just having them around and chatting with Tom and Stacey and Shari at home- even though they're stinkin Brits =) was I guess enough so that it wasn't so lonely. Also, at Dickson there was this girl Manuela who I really liked and was easy to talk to and got along with. All these little interactions I guess really combated the loneliness. It's crazy how night and day it is though when I'm with the kids and when I'm not. Obviously I'm not being fulfilled in a lot of ways because there's a language barrier and they're children and such, but it's like everything melts away when I'm hanging out with them. Anyway, enough self pity. I'm fine. I will be back in America in 3 weeks and continue living this charmed life I've thankfully been dealt.

In other news, I can't wait to go dancing. Madonna spoke to me again today and she says it best in "Heartbeat" when she says "Don't you know, can't you see, when I dance, I feel free" and I realized that in addition to dancing the night away once a week at work, I would also dance in my apartment another 200 times a week. So ya, I'm a dancing queen.

I had a rash on my gorgeous bicep today and was putting all sorts of cortisone and stuff on it but it wasn't getting much better. I asked Jurjanne if she thought it was a mosquitoe bite or if I should go to the doctor and she said to ask one of the house moms what they thought it was. I went and asked and they looked at it and poked and prodded and then said go wash it with laundry detergent and it will get better. I learned quickly last time that when they say something weird, just do it. Lo and behold I washed it with laundry detergent and it got better in about 45 minutes. All the western medicine in the world wasn't helping, but they suggest laundry detergent and I'm cured.

There's not much else to say today I guess. Sorry I'm not on my A-game, but I'm tired, and dehydrated, and itchy. Time to go kill some ants.