Winnie's house

On the weekend, I went to Winnie's house. It's about a 40 minute walk from the school with terrain so treacherous that I literally had to use my hands to help of scale some inclines. Before moving in with me, she used to make this trek twice a day!

On the way we passed a giant transformer that Winnie said had been out of working order since about March, and the power people keep saying they'll do it any day, but they obviously haven't yet. Can you imagine? We got to her home and it was very nice. She was obviously very proud of it. Her mom and dad weren't home yet, but two young boys who I guess just help out on their farm were. We walked around the hilly farm, and then Winnie shouted at the boys to bring us some sugar cane. Man, that stuff is delicious, even though I haven't figured out a way to avoid tongue splinters. Also, you use a giant knife to peel it. I was certain that the a finger was going to be lost by somebody, and the one boy seemed to enjoy making me cringe.

Then her parents came home and they were super nice and welcoming. Dinner was this casserole type dish called Kenyiji made of beans, arrow root, bananas, and corn. I loved it so much, but apparently it takes a lot of time/effort/cooking tools that Winnie and I don't have at home. They said such a dish would fetch an unreasonably high price at a tourist place, because foreigners pay big bucks to have the traditional dishes. It's funny that they recognised this, but even funnier that it's probably true.

They really were just embarrassinly welcoming though. Mom and dad, you both are warmly invited over any time. We hit the hay around 9, and I got Winnie's bed. When I woke up at 7, they made me in back to bed because guests are supposed to relax. Kind of awkward but also so nice.

Before bed on Saturday, we looked through photo albums. They own a camera, so lots of stuff was documented. Various graduations, first day of schools, etc, but also pictures of other visitors they've had. One was a clearly caucasian guy named Ian that they said was from China. I asked if they were sure we wasn't American or European or something, but no no, they insisted China, or maybe Japan. Then there was later a bunch of photos of a girl who lived nearby for two years, named Chiko. This time she was legit from Japan. I guess because she was here for so long, she implanted the connotation that muzungo=from Japan. I guess that makes a lot of sense, since many many many people have told of things like the staple food in my country is rice, that English isn't my mother tongue, and that I know karate. Not that I'm saying all Japanese people eat rice and know karate, but just that in my experience, as a stereotype, it's more common to assume those things about an east Asian than a North American. But really, I've had some conversations where people are like, at home, you eat rice every day. Then I'm like, no, we really don't. They insist. I concede that perhaps some people do, but it's certainly not the norm. They say that every body eats it every day. This goes on for a long time. Darn you, Chiko.

In the morning her dad had left, and I wasn't allowed to help make breakfast, so I sat in the sitting room reading a week's worth of newspapers. The opinion section made of wild. There was one really well written article on why foreign aid is bad, and one woman who wrote progressively on reform of domestic abuse laws, but other than that there was a lot of misogynistic vitrol, not unlike what you might read in the comments section of many a blog in any geography, but those are usually anonymous. To see a national newspaper publish it, and to have people write with their name as if their opinion doesn't warrant shame... just, I don't know. Okay an example actually, in the cool young person section: one article on Britney dating her manager, them something about this Nigerian pop duo P Square getting in a fight with their landlord, then a post wondering if old white men coming and marrying young Kenyans constitutes prostitution and sex trafficking, or should we just consider it a boost in the economy, since she'll probably send money home. No lie, this question was posed without satire or sarcasm. Right? I don't know why I didn't stop reading.

Breakfast was arrow root and sweet potatoes, then Winnie had told her mom that I love chipati, so that was on the lunch menu. Also on the menu? Chicken. Where would it come from? Right outside. Yes, they were going to slaughter a chicken. Oh man. The same boy from the previous day, who was fascinated by how fascinated I was, was the one doing the neck cutting. I watched from a distance, trying to hold in my anguish and alarm, but emitting the odd oh! Ah! Ooh! And at one point I may or may not have said eek! I do know that I was burping for a good ten minutes afterwards on account of all my gasping. However, it was much less bloody that I had imagined.

Out of space; to be continued tomorrow.