Day 88

Sunday funday. 

Went to visit my coworker today. She's sick. Malaria she says. Negative says the test. Lets treat says the doctor. 

How to battle that mentality I'm not sure. And it's a wonder that resistant strains are emerging like puddles during a rainstorm. 

That was probably a bad analogy. Oh well. 

Today was a day of complaints. Like the way people drive here as if closest to where you're walking in the only space on the road, or the roosters and other various feathered beings that have become more than annoying with their caws and crows and clucks and shut the fuck up. Please?

I didn't share the story of my little neighbor demon child boy. He's touched. 

When I moved in last week that Thursday this little boy is curious and is in my house with me as I'm straightening up. We are talking. I'm speaking Ruyankore. He's writing. Cool beans. I like kids. Whatever. 

Then he grabs something and I try to get it back from him. Holy hell the scream. Not only is he doing the annoying scream that I can not stand even though its only been roughly 24 hours, but he also starts screaming for his mother. 

What the hell?!?

Finally I win since I'm bigger and stronger, but he's not done. As I'm placing the thing that we've been fighting over down, he gives me thee nastiest stink eye and proceeds to grab things off my table and fling them around the room. 

He has yet to learn that I will hit a child. 

In this culture it is common to threaten to beat children. When I say it, I'm pretty sure I'm going to mean it as a promise. Not a threat. I wanted to beat that little boy. 

Then his mother who he had been calling for shows up and proceeds to tell me that he will destroy all my things because he doesn't know me. What?!?

This is the time when I find these backpack leashes appropriate. Please put him on a backpack leash. 

So basically, this little boy is on my list of complaints. My other neighbor kids though, they are sweet. They still call me mzungu, no matter how many times I have told them my name, but instead of throwing my things they run to give me hugs and talk to me in English and Ruyankore. 

Speaking of mzungu. The demon child. After I shut my door once his mother took him from my premises, he came to my porch area and began his terrible screaming and chanting, but he was chanting mzungu. Ugh. 

Can't I just not be mzungu? I don't want to be mzungu. Not in my home. Not at my home. Not around my home. Just not anywhere period. And no. It is quite unlike green eggs and ham as I will never like mzungu. And that is final. 

Ok starting Peace Corps life with a Dexter marathon and some beer. 

Why hadn't I ever watched this before?!?