Day 25 v2.0

I don't even know where to begin. You know you're in a for a good read when something about Kenya starts like that.

I'm skipping a lot, but have to mention that yesterday I was almost pick pocketed three times. THREE TIMES! Goretty caught one and I caught two. I just grabbed their wrist and said "wewe" which is literally translated as "you" but is more like "hey man, knock it off". I was afraid if I made any sort of a deal out of it the mob justice thing would rear its ugly head. Still, it was really empowering and validating to feel someone trying to pickpocket me and to be swift enough to grab and stop them.

All three tried to get into the bottom pouch of my backpack, which contains the gayest bag in the world. It's a little satchel thing I keep in that bottom pouch of my backpack and in the satchel there's: nail clippers, tweezers, breath freshners, two types of lip balm, deoderant, hand sanitizer, pink bandages, a Stridex pad, Murad Acne Spot Treatment, and a little jar of pills. Judging by the rest of the contents I wouldn't be surprised if a would-be thief thought the pills were birth control and Midol. So ya, even if they stole that, I think they'd have no idea what to do with it.

This morning I got to Dickson and found them clipping the children's nails with...a razor blade. I was ready to flip my shit. Can you guys just get it together and tell me you need a fucking nail clipper and I will get you one? The kids were wimpering and crying and hate having their nails cut with a blade (who wouldn't?) and when I asked where their nail clipper is they said "We had one, but we lost it". Well, fucking buy another one or ask me to get you one. This is the sort of pole pole/ass-backwards shit I'm talking about. I promptly pulled my nail clipper out of my trusty satchel and gave it to them to use. I'll buy another one tomorrow.

Today, we went to show ground. I wasn't sure what it was going to be. They made it sound kind of like a fair. On the way there, I saw my first homeless Kenyan penis of the trip. I saw a few last time. And, much like popular culture has lead us to believe, it was indeed sizeable.

Before I begin with the show ground, let me preface it with the fact that I'm not going to be very nice. In fact, I'm kind of an ass here, but it's one of those western culture supremacy things, so if that bothers you, skip this paragraph. So, we took one load of people in the Dickson mutatu and then returned to grab a second bunch since we can't all fit in one. When we got there, they sent the slowest, wussiest, most incompetent of the house mothers in to go buy the tickets. I was already peeved about this, but whatever. 20 minutes of waiting at the gate in the blistering sun later, she returns. She didn't want to handle a stack of 30+ single admission tickets, so what did this genius do? She got one group admission ticket. Well, darling, only half the group is here. Remember? We had to make two trips? Two separate HOUR LONG trips? So now we have to sit at the gate for another hour (still in the blistering sun) waiting for the second group to arrive. By the time the second group arrived, two and a half hours had passed since we left Dickson and we still were waiting in the parking lot. I then all but command we eat lunch before going in (we brought lunch) and they agreed.

We had these bag lunches of fried chicken and fries from a local restaurant. They insisted on us using the plates they brought from home. So we have 28 children, juggling brown bags, bottled soda, and plates while trying to sit somewhere in a parking lot (and by parking lot I mean overgrown field). The disorganization and incompetence was unbelievable. It was like a group of 2nd graders were making all the plans. Finally, at 1:30pm, we went in. I was in the first group and we had left Dickson at 10:30am. 10:30am. And we went in at 1:30pm.

So, what is show ground? Um. Ok. So. Imagine a state fair. Say, the Minnsota State Fair. I've been 2 or 3 times; mostly as school trips. It has all these stalls that explain local agriculture and livestock, some local businesses, a few games, a few rides, just like a dinky out door festival thing. The only reason to go is that sometimes Def Leppard or Journey or REO Speedwagon will perform; otherwise, it's pretty crap-tacular. Now, imagine a state fair that's in the crappiest state. Now put that state in one of the poorest nations in the world. Now imagine that that poor nation was recently rocked by a civil war (the violence here ended around March or April) that left tens of thousands homeless and thousands dead. This is the fair we went to.

At first, it was really endearing to see them examining things and I felt like a total asshole. I had this big plastic grin on (and I don't think they knew I was faking it) because the things they kept showing me were, um, I guess not really impressive is the nice way to say it. We spent three minutes looking at a coconut that had been carved into a monkey. The conversation went like this: "Do you see the coconut there? They made it look like a monkey." "Yes, but did you see how they carved a monkey out of coconut?" "Look at the coconut, they put arms and eyes on it and carved it to look like a monkey". "Doesn't that monkey coconut look like a real monkey?" "Is that a monkey or a coconut?" There are only so many ways you can feign being impressed by this.

Then we went to a stall about one of the tribes here in Kenya and the two staff members that were part of my group took to explaining everything we saw. For example, they explained to me that the hollowed out half coconut with a bamboo chute going through it that looked like a ladle was used by this tribe as...a ladle. That the long hollow cylinder was used for...drinking. That the clay bowl was...a bowl. I mean, they were really eager to show things to me and I felt more and more like a big fucking douche bag because I couldn't come up with a way to be impressed other than say "Wow" or "Oh, I see". It was so patronizing and condescending but I was totally at a loss as to how to react. Still, the adults got off on explaining all these things to me (as did the kids) so I did my best to just go with it.

The show ground was loud. Screaming. Heckling. Music. Whistles. It was like a 1920's carnival. There were these stalls that you had to pay Ksh10 to go into to see "The World's Smallest Woman" or "A Severed Human Head" or "A Real Mermaid". There were people who you had to pay Ksh10 to see them do something and then they'd squirt you with water and run away or do something really lame and essentially the joke was that they just conned you out of Ksh10. The ferris wheel was operated by three Kenyan men by hand- as in it was not motorized. The stalls sold toys that in America you get for free at the dentist's office or at Chuck E. Cheeses for 25 tickets. It was utter pandemonium in the third world. While I was peeing at the trough this guy kept looking at me and I kept getting more and more nervous that he was trying to pick me up or something. When I finally looked at him, I saw he was trying to sell me weed. The belly dancing whore of Babylon (who was on display) tried to get me to purchase a blow job from her by making the gestures for money and for blow job...in front of the children. The 50 year old Pakistani man who sold me the kikoy I bought lowered his voice and said "You are very sweet looking. I wish I had met you earlier today" which I assume means he wanted a piece? I was heckled by everyone since this wasn't exactly a tourist thing- I only saw 2 other non-blacks out of the thousands there. I took as many pictures as I could and will post them promptly, but as I'm typing this, I feel like it's not even 1/100th of an accurate description. It was just insane. Oh ya, and a street boy shot a huge glob of his green snot through the air and it came so close to me that two of the staff members freaked and yelled at him. The insinuation here is that it was so close to hitting me that even the Kenyans, who have no sense of personal space and will get within 1 milimeter of you but will never actually touch you, thought it was too close for flying snot.

By the way, I am a total ass clown. I had the golden goose sitting in my lap, the way to endear myself to every Kenyan in one nanosecond, and I didn't utilize it. I'm a fucking idiot. Instead of the 6 plain t-shirts I brought here, what I SHOULD have done was bring 6 Obama '08 t-shirts. They love him here, I knew that last year, and I didn't capitalize on that. If I was wearing Obama t-shirts they'd instantly know 1) I was American, 2) I support Obama, 3) I thus support Kenya and Kenyans, and 4) that I'm not some hostile mzungu. WHY didn't I think to bring Obama shit with me? Why? They were hawking TONS of it at the show ground and that's when my oh-so-dim lightbulb went off.

Speaking of Obama, on the mutatu ride to town (I came straight to town from show ground while they took the Dickson mutatu back to Dickson), I was seated next to a drunk police officer who began belligerently questioning me about Obama, America, and all this other shit that made me really uncomfortable. Drunk people with power in a place where power is completely unchecked are not the type of people I want to be talking to. Luckily he got off not too long after I got off. The mutatu driver apologized to me but told me that the man was an officer and thus the driver couldn't say anything.

But before that, when we left the show ground, the plan was to meet at the gate at 5:00. Now, again, do you see anything wrong with everyone meeting at 5:00? Well, here's why that's fucking retarded. We had to take two trips. So now, half the group has to, again, sit in the parking lot for an hour while the first group goes back to Dickson. Why wouldn't we split the groups so that the group that has to wait could wait IN the show ground instead of in the parking lot? Sigh. Between the show ground organization, the nail clipper incident, and the fact that I am taking Monica to the dentist tomorrow because between the 5 house moms they couldn't make an appointment for her (and she goes back to boarding school on Monday), I am super frustrated with the incompetence here. The worst thing though, is that they aren't incompetent. It's just the way things are here (which I guess means the culture is incompetnet?). I know that's a horrible thing to say, but for example, Monica has had a cavity for months. She is home for 3 weeks. How did they try to take her to the dentist? Not one, not two, not three, but four times they decided to just go to the dentist to see if he's there AND if he could help her. He has a phone. Not once did they phone to see if he was there or if he could help her. Guess how many times he was even there? None. 4 times. FINALLY, on the 4th visit, they thought to set an actual appointment and couldn't get one til September (when she'll be away at boarding school). So now the plan, I guess, was to wait until Christmas break to get her filling. Mind you she complains about excrutiating pain every day. I finally just made an appointment myself with a dentist here in town and am now going with her and a house mother tomorrow. Unreal.

Whew. Ya, I really kind of tore them a new one today (only here, I would never say disparaging things to them), but I'm telling you, it's like this all the time. Not one iota of foresight.

Then, on the way to the internet cafe, I was stopped by two street kids, maybe 5 and 7 years old. I reached into my bag but only had one piece of candy and a pen. I pulled both out and not thinking stuck them out and was about to take the pen back (why would they want a pen?) when they both snatched at the pen. The one who snatched the candy threw the candy and they both went to go hit the other AND tried to bite the hand of the other to get him to let go of the pen. I just hightailed it from there because watching two homeless, virtual toddlers, try to kill each other over a pen was more than I could deal with today.

I will definitely be stopping at Galaxy for a drink tonite. Had I known the day was going to be like this, I would have bought some weed at the urinal when I had the chance.

(Btw, I'm not sad or anything. This isn't a pity post, it's a frustration post. I'm not sad, I'm just pissed and tired)