The Kiss

I think I gained a woman problem.


From all the stories that we heard during PST, and all the tips that they gave us to avoid awkward opposite-sex interactions, I swore that I would do everything in my power to make myself undesirable and make it obvious that I was unattainable.

Apparently, I failed.

Now, I have been very careful to never go to any particular mama too often to buy produce, as well as to never always buy the same particular item from the same mama. This mama has been no exception, however I did like going to her stand because her produce was always of quality and she has, from the beginning, always given me a fair, non-mzungu, price.

Then yesterday happened.

As I finished purchasing a couple items, I, as with any Kenyan, was leaving with a farewell handshake. Now it’s rare, but not unusual, for a mama to give what I call the “Double Bro-hug”, keeping the hand-shaking hands in between and proceeding to sort of chest-bump/hug. This is what she proceeded to go for but as I was turning to leave I suddenly feel a kiss on my neck.

My heart-drops and I hurry away without looking back as fast as possible.

On taking counsel with my counter-part, my worst fears were confirmed; this is definitely not normal for a strictly plutonic relationship, even amoung most family units. Ugh. So now I have to put shields up to maximum, phasers set to kill, and utilize every avoidance procedure I know.

Just A Little KuKu

Herein lies the story of a most peculiar occurrence during one of my opportunities to teach at a women’s group.

We were meeting in the living room of one of the women of the group. Now, in rural Kenya it is rather typical for animals, especially chickens, to come roaming through the house and then leave and nobody usually minds unless the animal is getting into or doing stuff it shouldn’t.

While I am teaching on proper hand-washing technique one such chicken marches into the living room and proceeds to sit between two women who are sitting on the couch. Though this is odd enough, the chicken proceeds to lay an egg. Yes, full on squawking, painful, awkward laying of an egg.

And nobody tries to shoo it out of move it. They just let it proceed with it’s business.

After about five minutes of complete distraction, and me trying to focus on the lesson without busting up laughing, it nonchalantly gets up and walks out the door like nothing ever happened.

Talk about child abandonment…

Case of the Ng'ombes

I’m assuming that it is because cows used to be (and with some ethnic groups still are) the source and expression of someone’s wealth, that they seem to become the topic of conversation quite readily.

A perfect example of this is Chief Mburu. Often times I get to go around with him to visit different parts of his jurisdiction and, honest to G-d, every time we stop by to visit a homestead, he, mind you not the property owners usually, insist we visit the cows.

“Look at these cows, they have some very good cows. Well bred, very good.” As we inspect every aspect of the cows holding area and feeding station, typically.

The best is when we’re on a completely different topic while walking passed a cow that is tethered close by. “Ashhh. Look at this! Bad breed. These owners shouldn’t be allowed to tether them like this, what it that male tries to breed with that very good female? It’s just not right I tell you.”

Gets me every time.

P.S. Where do little pointy-hatted bearded men and Clostridium Tetini (Tetnus) like to go swimming?