Day 19 v2.0

I was nearly mauled by street mothers last night. Thank God there are guard rails between the streets and the sidewalks because they saw me and all came running up to me (knowing I’m the guy who hands out food) screaming for me to give to them. There were 9 of them and I only had like 3 packs of cookies so I gave to the first few hands and said that was it. That woman who said “And for my baby” last time got a pack and said again “And for my baby” and I looked her dead in the eye and said “That IS for your baby, not you.” I hope she listened to me.

I don’t want to jinx it, but I think I’ve beaten the ants. I keep setting bait for them to lure them out of my Ethernet port and they aren’t coming out, so either I’ve scared them silly, or they’re gone. Hopefully the latter.

This morning when I left the apartment I was recruited to push a tuk-tuk to try to get it to start. I don’t really understand manual transmissions, but apparently when they need a jump start or something you push them until they get momentum and then you can start one. So I’m pushing this tuk-tuk (for a description see last year Day ) up and down a hilly, pot hole riddled, dirt road with a Kenyan on either side of me and thought “Clearly I’ve been accepted” because there’s no way they’d just ask a random mzungu to help push. So that was a nice, if not laborious, way to start my day.

We went to the beach today. On the way, I was sitting next to the teacher (the one who asked me if I was saved) and of course we got to chatting. She asked about my tattoos on my wrist and I explained. We ended up talking about the fact that Kenyan women aren’t really allowed to wear pants (they almost always are expected to wear skirts) and about prostitution (apparently prostitutes wear pants which is why it’s preferred that other women do not wear pants) and that lead to abortion. It’s currently illegal in Kenya unless it’s to save the life of the mother, but there is a strong group lobbying to legalize it and it’s up for a vote soon (it was in today’s paper) and of course she’s totally against it and said there’s no way it would pass (the article insinuated as much) and I tried telling her about the pros of abortion (particularly in cases of incest and rape) but she would have none of it. I also tried to enlighten her on tattoos (not just for criminals) and pants (not just for prostitutes). She then said something about street boys and I think it had to do with prostitution and street boys and men, but I wasn’t clear on what she was saying. I think it was about street boys prostituting themselves to men, but I didn’t pursue it any further and let it drop because I don’t know if I could have kept quiet. There’s a lot I’m willing to take, but to be degraded because of my sexuality is not one of them. It would have been messy so I let it drop as quickly as possible. I’d love to enlighten them, but they are so far behind it’s impossible. I mean, pants? Really?

I was given a lot of shit about my chest tattoo. The house moms who saw it at the water park are less religious and less judgmental and more educated and more familiar with people from the west, so they didn’t say anything. These ones were scrutinizing it and had their stupid questions about it. I explained and that was that. The kids didn’t understand it at all. They kept trying to wash it away. In case you haven’t figured it out, in Mombasa there are no tattoo artists and come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.

We played at the beach and were splashing around and what not. It was a really fun day for the kids. At lunch I watched as all the older children opened bottles with their teeth! I’m telling you, they’re made of stone. I kept wincing and begging them to stop but they all did it. Then they opened mine. I filmed Ongeri doing it and will post the video when I get back to America.

I leant one of the house moms my camera because she’s going on safari on Monday. I told her to please be careful with it and was really reluctant about letting her, but ultimately decided I would. I think it’s good to not be too attached or hung up on material things. It’s a camera. If it breaks, it breaks. She can’t afford to replace it if she breaks it (nor would I accept the money even if she could), but she’s a Kenyan and has never been on a safari. If I can help her with this one special time, why shouldn’t I? Plus, it’s good to test your own comfort levels. Yes, I’m nervous she might destroy it (they destroy everything) but it means a lot to her and it’s just a camera and in the end it brings me more pleasure for her to get such a joy out of this meaningless piece of equipment than it would bring me sorrow if she breaks it. Still, that bitch better be careful because while I won’t make her pay for it, I’ll totally bitch slap her upon return.

I know it’s 10 years too late, but I’m half way done with “The Tipping Point” by Malcolm Gladwell and I highly recommend it. I also need to re-stress that Alice Munro’s “Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage” is amazing and Eveyln Waughn’s “Scoop” is fine, but not great. (I read a little on the beach, that’s why this note is here)

Later I went into the water with the older boys and the tide was low so it was pulled back a ways from the shore and I found a pair of Oakleys in the sand. Not really thinking, I just held them out to the boys and Ongeri got to them first. I just assumed they were cheap sunglasses. Then I saw the O on the side and assumed they were fake. Then I looked at them and they are indeed real. They’re decent looking too, but I can’t exactly be an Indian-giver with a 12 year old orphan (even though I found them!) so my folly is his fortune. They’ll be broken by tomorrow, if they haven’t been already.

It must really suck to be white- I identify as middle eastern. The other volunteer is Irish and she wore SPF 50 and reapplied it 3 times and is as red as a lobster. I, on the other hand, am a gorgeous golden shade of fantastic. I don’t really like to laugh at other people’s misfortune, but haha. I said I don’t like to, but I do a lot of things I don’t like. So haha, sucks to white, haha, sucks to be white.

Going there, we took two trips, but coming back we tried to pack everyone into the Dickson mutatu and Jurjanne and Chris’ car. I rode in the backseat of their car with Emmanuel John on my lap and Brian, Nelson, Moses, and Mwangi in the seats and Rukia, Milka, Marion, and Yvonne in the trunk. They have a Suzuki Sidekick. It was pretty intense. The kids were clamoring all over and I kept having visions of the side door flying open and Mwangi going out the door. He unlocked the door twice and I screamed at him and had Chris relock the doors from the driver’s seat and lock the windows. It was pandemonium. I managed to calm them down by playing all these inane games (“How many people in this car have a name that starts with M? How many people in this car are mzungu? Who sees a purple mutatu?) but, as I always say, kids are dumb and it worked for about 50% of the car ride before they got bored. Still, that was 20 minutes of peace that we wouldn’t have had, so once again, my wonder saves the day.

The picture and video posting was intense (the video took 29 minutes to upload) so I’m outtie.

I don’t know much about Biden, but hopefully he’s a good choice.

Oh, yes, and most important of all, Happy Madonna-Begins-Her-World-Tour Day. It’s going to be AMAZING!