Hnagovers and Working

09/18/05

Whoa. We really tied one on last night.

We got to Rongo around 5pm, and we met Michael's older (Liz's younger) brother John. He is a jolly guy with a big gut and a firm handshake, quick with a laugh. He had already packed a few away, and we followed him to a bar. We sat at a table in the corner with two other guys from Kanga, Richard, and Michael's 4th grade teacher, who I christened Teacher. I ordered cold Tusker and Michael ordered Captain Morgan's and a Diet Coke (and got a fifth of Bond 7 whiskey and a regular Coke.) I was drinking whiskey from the bottle and chasing it with Tusker. When I was offered a cold glass, I delivered Chris' "It comes in a cold glass" line and got a big laugh. A guy danced up the table and called me 'British Soldier' and Michael 'Boss', and demanded a beer. He got crazed and started shouting when he was denied, but just as quick he pulled a 180 and smiled and danced away from the table. I put back a liter and a half of Tusker and half of Michael's whiskey and was feeling good. We left and walked across the A1 to another bar in a light drizzle, avoiding mud puddles and matatus. The teacher and Richard were jogging to keep up. We got another corner table in the new place and ordered 2kg of goat, roasted and wet fried. We started drinking again. White plastic chairs, white plastic tables, and concrete floor, TV in the corner with a Premiere match. A live band was setting up in the front of the place. Teacher was getting drunk and started telling me that he was retired and took care of a dozen orphans, that he had lost his sons and his brothers. I told him we should talk about it sober and took his phone number. He opened a bottle of Tusker with the top of the whiskey bottle, which I liked, so the next closed bottle I tried and succeeded; try one, which impressed everyone. I said the Teacher was a good teacher. The music started, and John got up and started dancing around the bar. Teacher got up and joined him. They danced in an embrace. The food came, first roast goat and posho and then fried goat and posho. We ate it with our hands. John kept ordering more and more rounds, a second bottle of Bond 7 came and I got a little worried. I started helping myself to that bottle. We were all getting pretty drunk. I went out back to piss. There are maybe 20 rooms (used by truckers and people who want to spend the night with a sex worker.) The urinal was a concrete pit; I only knew what it was by the smell. It was drizzling; the courtyard was a giant mud puddle. I made my way back to find a fresh half-liter of Tusker, which I opened with the empty bottle of Bond 7. We drank and talked about who knows what (I really cant remember) and listened to the music and John danced around the bar and Teacher passed out in his chair, a tooth pick hanging from his lip and perfectly round drops of saliva forming and dropping onto his tie. I took a picture with Michael's camera; the flash didn't wake him up. One guy who had joined our table got up to vomit and then another joined him. The first returned (the second didn't) and passed out in his chair, copious amounts of drool pouring out of his mouth into his lap. We were getting up to leave and two armed Askaris came and picked him up, walked him out to the curb, and sat him down. He didn't wake up, and he just kept drooling. It was only 10pm.

We took a cab home and Mama opened the gate for us. I passed out but woke up about 3am, desperate for water, but I had none. I ate two passion fruits standing naked in the door of my simba, then went back to sleep. This morning I felt like someone had shit a big pile of poison on my brain.

Michael and I ate breakfast and laughed about last night. Oranges never tasted so good. I dragged myself down to Kanga Grocery for water (and a Fanta for Daniel), got back, drank a liter, and Robert was at my door, ready to begin the day…

We visited a group of orphans, 3 boys, who take care of each other. We interviewed them, took pictures, filmed them working in their shamba. They talked about losing their parents; they talked about days when they don't have enough money to buy food (because they cant find any work.) Those days they eat a stalk of sugar cane for their one meal. In the morning they eat another, and pray that they find work that day. The work of course is hard manual labor in the brutal sun for less than a dollar. Which cant be easy when all you've eaten for two days is two stalks of sugar cane.

Next we went down to visit a lady, a widow, a PLWHA. She was really down (although Robert tells me she is on her way up) and was very depressed. She didn't see a lot of hope in her future. She seemed so down I didn't even ask for pictures, which of course I kicked myself about later, but it was probably the appropriate thing. She struggled to stand when we finished, and we thanked her and shook hands and she went back to her mat in the shade, almost instantly going back to sleep.

We went and visited the Pastor, who gave quotes for the timber and other materials we need to finish our house of chickens. Robert and I broke for lunch and I was desperate for a 10 min nap before we took our afternoon journey to Ranen to get the materials. But lunch was slow in coming and as soon as I had eaten and then lain down, Robert was at my door. So up again, in a matatu, and (for the first time) SW on the A1. We got there and the lumberyard was closed, but supposed to open soon. We waited and waited, and I noticed a boy who had a giant grasshopper with a string tied around its leg. His pet. We finally ended up racing to catch a matatu to beat the rains.

When they started, they were furious. Rain, then pounding hail, then the blinding lightening. There were sparks in my room, and the power went out. When it finally subsided I walked out into the newborn world and was greeted by a rainbow, which turned into two. Steam was rising off the tarmac. I filmed and then took pictures of a boy who had come to fetch milk. Then a drunk came staggering up the road and I snapped him too.

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