Today was such an amazing day! I played volleyball and just bonded with the students. I made a sweet thai-themed pasta for dinner and it’s blowing my taste buds’ minds!! There’s electricity right now to top it all off!!

The following is an entry I wrote on Thursday – quite hilarious. I seem to be a magnet for these kinds of things.

I returned earlier today from the market. Thursdays are market days in the ‘nearby’ town named Centre. It’s a solid 45 minutes walk as opposed to a mere 10 minutes via vehicle or piki piki (what they call motorbikes here… oh wait.. Americans call them motorcycles. Geez, my American English is going.) Too bad the Peace Corps forbids all volunteers from using the pikis and there’s rarely ever a vehicle passing by. I remember an occasion where I thought I would be lazy and just wait by the side of the road for a vehicle to take me to Centre. I waited a little more than an hour and only one vehicle had passed me, arms and heads overflowing out of its windows. I gave up and started walking. Anyway, it’s not like it matters anymore because I’ve grown accustomed to walking the distance. In fact, I actually enjoy it at the times where the roads are quiet. I try to avoid the times where the schools let out because then I’ll be faced with an onslaught of Kenyan children vying for my attention. Anyway, onto the point of why I wanted to write this entry.

I decided to arrive at the market a bit later today because in the weeks past, the selection of foods lying atop plastic burlap bags was just atrocious. Onions, tomatoes, potatoes, and omena (Small fish the size of the pinkie, head, eyes, and all fully intact for your eating pleasure……). I’m a foodie. I need more than this. People told me that at later times, carrots, cabbage, and a variety of greens make their appearance. My entire body perked up at the mention of carrots. Looking back on my life, I’ve taken carrots for granted many times. (Potatoes too but the lovely little white baubles they call rice still wins my preference.) So, yes, I enter the market and I’m greeted by a momentary silence as the marketfolk register my presence, followed by waves of “..jf sdfbdf ijdf MZUNGU hebuf…” left in my wake. It’s become normal. I admit, I do look forward to the days where I can enter a locale without even drawing an eye to myself. But then again, that ‘power’ would be nice to have in certain places, if you know what I mean. Among the many eyes that followed me as I made my rounds at the market comparing between two mamas’ products for their quality, one followed me more intently than the others. The one even began to follow me physically, albeit slowly at that. It was a few minutes before I noticed and it was only because I was taking in the sight of a large pile of carrots. (This is after not eating any form of carrots in a little over two weeks.) An elderly woman with drooping earlobes, decked out in lessos (the traditional fabric for women), and hobbling on a wooden leg and cane, which has a thick material from tyres furled around it. (The drooping earlobes are traditional for the older folk, although the tradition is now dead among younger generations, for back in the day if a child was misbehaving, the parent would make a small cut on the ear. The cut would be in the area between the earlobe and the cartlidge leading into the ear canal. If the child continued their misbehaving, something heavy would be hung from the hole, stretching the skin. Ow. So in a way, simply by looking at a person you can determine whether they’ve been a very very bad child.) Rather loudly she declared, “Nipe kumi!” In Kiswahili, it means “Give me ten!” Of course, I knew she was referring to ten schillings. I ignored her and began to inspect for carrots I’d want to buy. The woman was relentless. “Nipe kumi kwa Mama Mwita! Nipe! Wewe mzungu, ninajua pesa hapo katika (tapping my back pocket)” (Give me 10 for Mama Mwita! Give me! You rich-white-person, I-know money there in..” I became uncomfortable but stood my ground. After a little while, she started to lightly spank my bottom with the stick while almost chanting “Nipe kumi, mimi (me) Mama Mwita!” I felt spots of red burn on my cheeks but I tried to just step aside and let it slide off my back. Right then, she poked at my crotch while saying something I didn’t understand and proceeded to unfurled the tyre piece from the stick and threatened to whip me. Right then, I walked to the other side of the market, which isn’t that big mind you – about the size of Boyd’s old classroom at CSUN. Follow me, she did. Grr. I was forced to leave the market but not before catching her whip on my bum. Ayiyi.