This season is Kenya's winter, so it is "cold" here. This means it can get down to as low as... 60 degrees! In 60 degree weather, you will find most people bundled up in winter coats and fuzzy hats. The babies are layered up and then wrapped in blankets. It is so cold that they tell me the most fragile geriatrics are likely to die.
The funny part is, they are so layered up that I can see the sweat running down their faces, and they still complain that their hands are cold. They are shocked that I will wear sandals and a t-shirt in this weather, and many people ask me on 60 degree days "aren't you COLD?" in a very dramatic tone.
It was about 65 degrees when this picture was taken:
Also, men around me hold hands and lay hands on one another's legs or backs when they are just chilling, sitting very close to each other. But it is shameful to be gay, so no one comes out of the closet, leaving me wondering who is gay and who is not.
One of the other volunteers was telling me she had to pay $750 to the Mungiki last year after they threatened to kill Salome (the head of By Grace Orphanage) if she did not pay. The following week she saw a beheaded body as she was driving to the airport and was grateful that she paid.
Here's an interesting question Innocent posed as we were having a philosophical conversation (he is very insightful and philosophical!) about knowledge and the internet: What do you think would happen if the internet was unavailable throughout the world for 1 year?
Also, we think a neat thing to do would be to keep a "Google Journal" in which you write down the exact dates and times you google something and the phrase you google. Then look at it in a month. Would you remember all the information you googled?
I miss ice cream.
2 comments:
Oh my God, I love the idea of a Google journal. I wish I'd been doing that for the past year! I'll start today.
Using my sense of sound, I observe that the neighbor's dog is upset about the Graham Avenue street traffic outside his window.
Using my sense of taste, I observe that the new Merlot I drank with dinner is exquisitely satisfying, and even spicy.
Using my sense of touch, I observe that the heat is building up on my legs from the battery of my laptop, and I should turn the fan on.
Using my sense of sight, I observe that the mess of dirty dishes in my kitchen is proof that Sharon has left for Hong Kong and I am alone and don't care about the mess.
Using my sense of smell, I observe that the square of cherry-chili chocolate I ate for dessert lingers on my fingers.
Using my sense of emotion, I observe that my heart is missing my friend SJ. I wish I was there or you were here.
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