Day 4: 3 Times a Lady

Jesus Christ. I don't think I've ever been so tired. I fell asleep for a second sitting up; that's never happened to me before!

Starting with last night. I literally, LITERALLY walked into the Kiambi's door and the Muslims started up. I had forgotten. Obviously a repressed memory, but once the chanting/prayers started I was quickly snapped back into reality. Muslims do a call to prayer. 5 times a day. Loudly and amplified with speakers from what I can only assume is arena concert quality sound equipment because it's so loud it just drills into your brain.

So they say all their spiel in Arabic and then they say "Allah Akbar" like 37 times. The problem (as if 37 times wasn't enough) is that there's something like a 17 second lapse between each "Allah Akbar" so you think "Finally, the last one" and then another one comes. Then you think, ok that was the last one. And you count just to be sure. 17 seconds passes. You're free. They apparently knew you were counting and decided to wait 20 seconds this time because just as you assure yourself that was indeed the last "Allah Akbar" you hear the loudest "Allah Akbar" you've ever heard in your life.

There is no longer a mosquito net over the guest bed, but a nice canopy so the net isn't crowding you or up against you. When I got in though, I noticed a swarm of mosquitoes had set up a nest or something in there so I don't know if the canopy was so much keeping mosquitoes out as much as it was keeping them in. I doused myself in OFF, started a mass slaughter of mosquitoes, and pulled the sheets to cover my body as much as I could. I'm taking my Malerone and hoping for the best.

I also learned that the best way to read at night is to lie on your back and balance your iPhone on your forehead with the flashlight application open. That or having a nightlight. But as my ingenuity suggests, I don't have a nightlight.

On the way to Dickson this morning I saw a man take a dump on the street.

You must check out the articles in "The Daily Nation" www.nation.co.ke because it's just so shocking. Not only do you get a glimpse into Kenyan life and ways, but also what passes for journalism. International criminal trials for the post-election violence in Kenya that left 1,300 dead (most of the violence was funded by Members of Parliment, senior ministers of government, and other "leaders"), female genital mutilation, a ring of drunk bus drivers busted, and tips on how to keep your lover from straying. Say what you will about US media but at least I get a Garfield comic in there.

Arrived at Dickson, started doing laundry. Then I picked Yvonne and Mary's hair while Brian picked mine. I'm not sure if picked is the right word, but when you run a hair pic through black hair to unkink it. They're all fascinated that I know how to work a pic. I didn't realize people needed a Master's Degree in Pic-ing.

The VCR is broken and we were taking it to the repairman to try to fix it, but I couldn't be seen until after he quoted the boys a price because if he saw me he'd jack it up. We got there and the guy wasn't even there. We got home just in time for the power to go out so I guess no harm, no foul.

One of the housemoms said she wanted me to set some time aside to talk to me and we all know what that means. She hit me up for 4,000Ksh. Converted it's not a lot of money, but considering a laptop runs about 7,000Ksh it's pretty outrageous. Can you imagine asking someone for $900? I told her the money is for the kids, but I'd see what I could do. She's a nice enough woman and she has a kid, so whatever. Still, I hate that I'm seen as a generous Donald Trump to be asked for money. Almost every single housemother (and the teacher!) has asked me for money. BAH!

I took the kids to the restaurant for sodas and french fries. It really frustrates me when Kenyans start chattering like monkeys when I come by. I realize that last sentence could be likened to me calling Kenyans monkeys, but I'm not. The expression is actually "chattering like monkeys" and I'm not gonna change it because of the negative connotations associated between black people and monkeys. Anyway, I know it's all about jacking up prices and taking me for all they can and it's fucking infuriating because obviously the less I spend on X and Y for the kids, the more I can spend on Z. But he's a rich mzungu with nothing but cash falling out of his ears so double every price!

The kids went buckwild at the restaurant. There's a "playground" so they were playing around on the seesaw and two slides- which are slides of death when you examine them. It's as though they were designed for children to get their legs stuck in the handles along the side of the slides and that the ladder is purposefully steep and narrow. But I will say, some of the falls these kids take, I just gasp in shock. I mean, the way Mwangi or Emmanuel-John hit their heads on the concrete, I just expect to see Kenyan orphan head explode the way Kenyan orphan ass explodes (an all bean diet is not pretty). But they just get up and dust themselves off, which constantly confirms to me how much more resilient children are than we give them credit for. The immune system thing, fine, they have a tolerance here, but it's not like Kenyan skulls are different than American skulls. We needn't run to the child for every bump and bruise, but we're so obsessed that we baby proof our houses while still in the second trimester. So, Frankie says relax.

Joram, one of the new kids, was absent today and I asked where he was. I was told he was visiting his mother. In prison. Where he lived until he came to Dickson. Can you imagine? Born into a prison and because there's no social system you just live in the prison with your prisoner mother? WHAT THE FUCK? Every day something utterly insane just blows my mind. "Where were you born?" "Riker's Island, where I spent most of my childhood"

The teacher, the woman responsible for educating these children, believes the following: spicy foods make you thin, Coca-Cola ruins your appetite but Sprite and Fanta are fine, and cold soda makes you sick so it's better to drink warm soda. Ya...

I am a human jungle gym for Emmanuel-Charles, Brian, Mwangi, Mwangi-Joshua, Moses, Rukia, and Emmanuel-John. Often simultaneously. They attack me and dog pile on me. I am nearly blinded by 70 little black fingers on a minute-to-minute basis. Also, Emmanuel-John managed to headbutt me in the nuts today. I was hoping they had grown enough to avoid being head level with my testicles, but apparently they're still in full testicle range.

For lunch they had sardine and ugali. I had bread with jam. I also managed to drink 1.5 liters of water today and pee only once. Not because I held it, but because it's so freaking hot! Ridiculous. And I thought my people were built for the desert. I guess the only desert that's right for this delicate little Iranian is Sedona- in one of it's luxurious spas.

After lunch I played Memory (that game where you flip two cards over trying to make a match) with Marion, Milka, and Mwangi. They all are really good! They beat me and I was trying. I mean, I wasn't super focused on the game, I was more concerned with stopping Mwangi-Joshua from bashing Emmanuel-Charles in the head with a toy, but it was pretty wild. I could see in Mwangi's eyes the razor like focus he had on each card and how he was memorizing each spot.

After that I went outside and kicked around the soccer ball with Peter and Kiio. I think they're the good older kids and Emmanuel and Ongeri are the naughty ones. All four are like 13-14 years old but it's obvious Peter and Kiio are really focused on their studies and watching over the other children.

They made me stay for dinner and I always make them take back at least 1/2 of the plate they make for me and even then I have to force feed it to myself. I can't think of anything more fucked up than throwing away food while in an African orphanage, so I shove the food down to the best of my abilities and then sneak bites of my dinner to the little ones that are too young to rat me out. God bless incommunicable baby babble.

Ok, another long post. Sorry. Hopefully some pictures tomorrow. Nighty-night.