This morning I noticed two men walking hand in hand. Something I used to see a lot more of. It usually means nothing here, but what a great cover for covert homosexuality. I say covert because they do not accept homosexuality in Kenya. I’m kind of ok with their lack of acceptance because I take into consideration the fact that they still lynch “witches” here, as Ross duly pointed out in his comment on yesterday’s post. Once they get over their fear of witchcraft, I’ll start working the gay agenda.
I hate maids. Not the individual maids themselves, but the whole concept. It makes me very uncomfortable. Even having someone come once a week to clean your house kinda bothers me, but a full-time maid is way too much. She washed my shoes. By hand. They were pretty filthy and they are now whiter than when I bought them. If that weren’t guilt-inducing enough, I arrived home earlier than usual tonite since I didn’t go to the internet café. She wasn’t home. I usually get back around 8:30 but I arrived at 7:05 tonite. I called her to see where she was and she said five minutes away. I said take your time. From like a block away I heard running. The sound came closer and closer until it was racing up the stairs. Who was running? The maid. She RAN the whole way back. I felt awful and apologized profusely, but it was done. She was sweating. Blurg.
BTW: posting the pictures this morning took 48 minutes. To post 19 pictures.
I think Republicans should be forced to spend a month in a third world country. They’d really stop bitching about our social systems. Praise God we have them. If they were forced to see what a world without welfare, social security, medicare, and all the other systems we have in place looks like, they’d rethink their stances. I can’t imagine even the stoniest, money grubbing-est, capitalist is comfortable watching a 4 year old orphan carrying around his 2 year old sister barefoot, dirty, eating garbage, and begging for food.
As I write I feel phantom mosquitoes everywhere. I am like a squirrel. I’ll be focused intently on my task and all of a sudden I’ll shoot my gaze over in one direction in a hyper-panic mode only to see it’s nothing.
The mutatu driver hit a pedestrian today. Not very hard, but he hit him. And then, after hitting him, the driver proceeded to honk at the man he just hit.
Our drive towards Dickson was derailed today by a herd of about 40 cattle. I’ve seen lots of goats, but maybe 3 cows (and that’s cumulatively over the past three trips) but today, out of nowhere, there were 40 cows milling about on the road. Just another day in Kenya.
Cobie is a Dutch volunteer who’s staying at Dickson for the next few weeks. She’s a 27 year old nurse. I really like her, but there is a bit of a language barrier. She understands almost everything but there are a fair amount of stumbles between the two of us. Anyway, she bought the ingredients to make the kids pancakes today. I took pictures because the whole process was so primitive it was shocking. They turned out pretty well though and we had a nice pancake lunch.
I’m totally disgusted with the housemothers. They have gotten significantly lazier in the past few years. I understand that in a country where children are a nuisance, a place where homeless orphans can, and are, kicked by people annoyed with them, that there’s going to be little value on working with kids. But the housemothers do nothing but plop the kids in front of the TV for 11 hours a day. There are no toys or games out, no fostering creativity or making them go play or reading to them. The housemothers’ job is to work at a children’s home and it’s no different than if they were working at a lumberyard. They arrive, do what they do, and leave. Oh, and they ask me for money. Incessantly. Today it was to take the kids to get their heads shaved. They are going back to school tomorrow and need to have their heads shaved. What do they do when I’m not here? And why do they wait until the last minute? Idiots.
On to the kids. It’s funny, today was such a trying day and I was really pretty crabby, but then the last hour really turned around and I forgot all about it and remembered why I come. Our positive interactions make all the mosquito bites, diesel exhaust, Muslim prayers, shitty food, psychotics, diarrhea, dust storms, corruption, begging, and loneliness worth it. Trying as they can be, I love them. And they love me. Except for Erik. Today he shat on my lap. Kenyan orphan baby diarrhea. On my lap. Not cute.
Marion has become a saint and just wants to be around me. This is a considerable upgrade from pinching me and farting on me. Today we were playing a game where I’d have her spell one of the children’s names or a word and then she’d have me do one. Then the new, satanic incarnation of Emmanuel-Charles came over and started being all naughty and rowdy. I finally put him in time out (after many, many, many warnings) and he tried to leave so I held him there. He then tried to bite me. Several times. I told one of the housemothers and a few minutes later Emmanuel-Charles came over and apologized through his massive tears. I don’t know what she said to him (or maybe spanked him?) but it was sorely needed. He has been undermining me this whole trip and needed to be reminded that a 4 year old is not the boss.
Fuck me. The Muslims started up. It’s so fucking ridiculous. I think I posted audio last year. It’s so, so, so, so loud and so, so, so, so long. I really think I want someone to come with me next time just so that I simply have verification. I tend to be an animated, passionate person so I think sometimes my claims get undermined but I swear I’m keeping my blog really in check. Especially about the Muslims. I don’t need them putting a jihad out on me, so it’s all factual. It’s RIDICULOUSLY loud and long.
At around 4:45 I noticed Judy, Jumwa, Awino, Peter, Kiio, Ongeri, Emmanuel, and Vincent were sitting outside kind of chit chatting, kind of preparing for school (washing clothes, shining shoes, etc.) and I went and hung out by them. Within a few minutes the floodgates were opened and the questions started. While not in order, I did my best to remember them and here they are:
1. “Does Michelle Obama really garden at the White House? Doesn’t she have a maid?” I explained gardening is leisurely in the US, but they didn’t understand the concept.
2. “Do you know Barack Obama?” I do not.
3. “Are there other white houses or can only the president have a white house? Does everyone else have to have red or brown or green houses?” There are other white houses.
4. “Are there Chinese/Kenyan/Somalian/Ugandan/Arab/Indian people in America?” Yes, we have all the people of the world living there.
5. “Do you know Eddie Murphy?” No, I do not.
6. “Do you go to discos?” Yes, yes I do.
7. “Do you drink?” Yes, but only a little.
8. “Do you dance with girls?” Sometimes.
9. “Why aren’t you married?” I don’t believe in marriage/am too young.
10. “Do you believe in God? Why aren’t you a Christian?” Because I’m a Buddhist (half-truth but I don’t think I can articulately verbalize my beliefs to an American, let alone a Kenyan child)
11. “Are there mutatus in America? Do they give off smoke like here?” No, but we have buses and no, they run clean, or at least a lot cleaner than here.
There were a sea of others, but I won’t bore you with them (too late!). The point is we were engaging on a real level. I mean, the questions were trivial and we didn’t have in-depth discussions, but the silence and shyness rapidly disappeared and it wasn’t just me watching and playing with the little ones, it was also me giving time and attention to the older ones and their curiosities.
Dickson is in Port Reitz. The next closest slum is Migadini. I used to have to take the mutatu to Migadini and walk because there was no road. Now there is a road so I can take a mutatu straight to Dickson, but today I walked to Migadini and took the mutatu. There were so many people out. I don’t know if it’s because it’s Sunday or what, but the street was quite crowded. Little children kept cracking up when I would answer their “How are you?” in Swahili.
The second leg of Islamic prayer has started. I thought I got out easy because it’s Sunday, God’s day, the day of rest, but I guess the first act was the warm up band and now it’s the real deal. That 10 minute intermission was such a tease.
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