my daily pep-talk comes at an odd time.
evening.
just before bed.

the pep-talk begins when standing in the bathroom, fully clothed with my eyes closed.

that first phase goes a little something like:
"okay, thera. this is what you want. this is what you want. this is what you want."

second phase, open eyes, standing in front of the shower (still fully dressed) clutching towel to chest:
"the water will be refreshing. this is whatyouwant.thisiswhatyouwant...refreshing..."

phase three:
put towel down.
"a wet towl will not help you be warm after this shower. you can do this."

fourth phase:
turn on water (still 100% clothed)
"water = clean. i love being clean."

phase five:
stare at water. put hand under water.
"cleanness is good. hygiene. good."

sixth phase:
actually get in shower.
sticking one arm under water.
then the other.
eventually, after a lot of:
"cool water is refreshing.cool water is refreshing..."

eventually i get used to the water and it really does feel refreshing and nice and cool.
but getting to this point--can be a bit of a bugger.

today has been quite the domestic triumph on my behalf.

i made delicious coffee for myself this morning.
and then i did laundry by hand (of course) including two sets of sheets.

and then i cleaned the kitchen.

and then i swept the house.

and then i made a loaf of honey wheat bread and 12 honey wheat rolls.

me, ftw.

and i'm humble too...

and i'm in in the middle of fixing a pc computer that has major virus problems.
stupid pcs.
its been quite the day!

i was recently challenged in why i hate being called "mzungu" (they mean 'white person' when they say it- but the direct translation from the swahili is 'one who walks in circles')

i hate being called mzungu for the simple reason that it is just another way of calling out to everyone that i am different. it is already very easy to tell that i am an interloper here, i look different. period. no matter what i do i will always look different.
and this gets to be tiresome. i can never be anonymous, not even in the capital city.
i am always easy to spot and therefore easy to try to cheat.
that gets old. fast.

i don't like being called mzungu because i don't walk in circles.

i don't like being called mzungu because generally the one calling me 'mzungu' is a man who says something like "yes, mzungu, my size. i love you!" far from flattering, sorry.

or its  a group of children who just repeatedly yell MZUNGU! MZUNGU! MZUNGU! MZUNGU! even after greeted, or even after they have seen you nearly one hundred times. not old to them, but certainly old to me. it irks me most when they know my name.
or that it is alright for them to shout after white people as "mzungu" but must greet their elders by calling them auntie, uncle or mama or papa. if there is an adult around, this might happen.
or the fact that they sometimes refuse to let go of my hand and all grab and pull.
sure, this sounds cute, but you come let it happen to you day in and day out. after a long day in the office/dealing with other people asking you for money/demanding other things from you that have nothing to do with your job, and that you can't actually help them with anyway--then take this times four for the four times you're forced to walk past them a day.
FOUR TIMES A DAY!
you'd be tired of being called mzungu too.

perhaps most of all i don't like being called mzungu because it reminds me of my attachment to the colonailsm and the missionaries who came with colonialism. who i would generally reather not be attached to. and who i'd generally like to not behave like. (not all of them were bad. well, colonalism was bad. period. but not all missionaries were bad. but they seem to be the ones who made a larger impact somehow.)

i don't like people expecting me to behave like the 'wazungu' in movies that they have seen.
i don't like people assuming that i have money to give away.
i don't like being exploited because of my skin color.

being called mzungu is just laden with false things--false beliefs that people have drempt up on their own, and falsities that have been taught by other white people. and are coupled with and linked with the falsities of the prosperity gospel.
"madam, is it true that there is a cure for HIV/AIDS in the states but white people  just do not want to share it with africa?"
"my sister, is it not true that there are only white people in the united states?"
"there are no poor people in europe." (many people refer to europe when they mean "the west")
these are just a few examples.



besides, mzungu just isn't my NAME.

i just received an invitation to a sports day tomorrow.
and i am the only staff person left in kotido.
man.
i know how i'm potentially spending part of my day.
maybe i'll work on my tan.
the joys of working with schools!

my house is a veritable zoo of insects.

this does not please me, and i have to nearly constantly remind myself "you signed up to live in africa, therefore, you signed up for this plethora of bugs."

generally followed by "why on earth did i do this, again?!"

most, if not all, of these conversations occur in the quiet of my mind.
and usually only after the sun has gone down.
this seems to be when the bugs come out in the house.
or come into the house. i suppose it all depends on where their actual homes are.

last night was a case-in-point.

i had gone into the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth--the sort of things one does when she is preparing for bed. as i approached the sink, something about its appearance stuck me as a bit odd.
then i figured out what it was.
there were two long antenna (antenni?) coming out of the drain.
and when i say "long" i mean at least 1/2 an inch. those are long antenna.
i was unafraid to approach the sink since i figured whatever had antenna that long was to large to fit through the holes of the drain.
i was right.
and it was a large cockroach. perhaps one of my least favorite members of the animal kingdom. ever.

while i am indeed a pacifist, and am not in favor of taking life--i turned the water on full blast in hopes the little fucker would just die. or at least be flushed far enough away from the house that i wouldn't have to think about it again.

i left the water running at full blast while hoping for the best effect.
in the mean time i decided last night was a good night to use the pumice stone my mom sent on my poor feet. so i retrieved a basin to soak my feet in to aid in the endeavor.
this is when the second massive bug enters the picture.

a massive (MASSIVE) grasshopper hitched a ride into the house on the back of kelly's skirt day before yesterday- and since then has been hanging out on one of the curtains in the sitting room. which was 100% okay with me.

until.

it flew at my head.
repeatedly.

so i switched off the sitting room light and retreated all the way down the hall to the bathroom.

where it came and found me.
and flew at my head again.

you'd have thought i was being attached by a venomous raccoon or something--what with all the banging and screeching going on.  i did not spill the basin of water i had in my hands, however- so thats good.

it eventually flew back out of the bathroom and into the hallway, so i thought i'd be clever and turn on kelly's light so it would go into her room (sorry kelly, but you're gone and i figured he'd be gone by the time you come home...) and leave me the crap alone.

i had turned on kelly's light, and was going back into the bathroom when i saw the bugger sitting on the floor of the hall- staring at me.

i moved for the bathroom.

and, as you have probably guess by now- it flew at my head.
and i gave a little squeek like something that was actually harmful had attacked me.

i was, however, able to shut the bathroom door and scrub my feet.
by the time i was finished i really wasn't interested in being outside of my mosquito net any longer--
so i just dumped the water down the shower drain.
i didn't rinse out the shower, or the basin, but rather just retreated to my room.
(massive grasshopper is still m.i.a. as of this morning, by the way.)

i went to sleep--happy to be tucked safely into my mosquito net therefore discouraging the grasshopper or its roach friend to join me in my sheets.

this morning my animal adventure continued when i wandered to the bathroom for my ice-cold-morning shower. (this is pre-coffee, mind you. so i'm a little groggy as it is)

when i get to the shower i notice that the floor is moving. all of the shower floor. moving.
i shake my un-caffiene-enduced head to make sure that i'm seeing properly.
i rub my eyes.
but yes, the floor is indeed moving.
there are about a zillion tiny black ants moving around in the shower.

usually these are the kind of ants we battle in the kitchen, so i was baffled what they were doing in my shower. they were carrying something back to the drain them came from and i didn't understand it until i realized something that is kind of disgusting.

they were carrying my skin.
i had dumped the basin of water that i had soaked my feet in and rinced my pumice stone in without rinsing the shower out. big sick, dude.

i promptly turned the shower on, full blast, and washed a zillion of them down the drain.
and then took a shower knowing full well that the soap i was washing down the drain is fatal to small ants.

good riddance.