oh, ghana, no!

being here for the world cup has been sooo fun (i wish i could think of a way to say that sounding less trite)! i've watched more soccer (football) than i ever have in all my life. the kids get to stay up late to watch the games, and i was at a bar in nairobi for the ghana/uruguay game and have never seen people get so rowdy! just so happy and dancing, dancing, dancing, everyone dancing and fist bumping and yelling and blowing those loud annoying long horn things. the end result was quite depressing though. and the bar was very quiet. no more shakira waka waka.

i went to mombasa for a three day vacation that inevitably turned into a four day one. we stayed on diani beach and the place was so beautiful even thinking about it makes my heart ache. we had to take a 8 hour overnight bus from nairobi to get there (and back, soo frightening, i was sure i was going to die on a stupid bus, people drive sooo crazy). this was the first time i'd come to nairobi since coming in from the airport, and the degree of culture shock i experienced was out of hand and made me realize what a rural area ive been staying in. i felt like a country bumpkin. we werent stared at or pointed at because we are white, women wore high heels and tank tops (scandalous!), there are so many cars, and people, and pizza and fast food and traffic lights (that are certainly not obeyed, but they are there) and internet cafes with more than four computers and bathrooms with toilets that kind of flush. it was like this in diani beach as well. when i buy credit (minutes) for my phone in pundamilia/makuyu, i can't buy denominations bigger than 100 shillings, its usually just 20 or 50 because thats what people can afford. in diani beach i asked for 20 shillings of credit and was laughed at. i couldnt find anything UNDER 100 shillings. it's just a different world. tourism of course changes the scenery (and makes everything about five times more expensive).

we didnt do anything in diani beach except hang out at a beach bar and be barefoot in the sand and swim in the ocean and drink wine and sweat and discreetly eat and drink items we snuck in because we couldn't afford the prices - which was good enough for me. it was so much hotter on the coast than it is here. but it was also a chance to meet some interesting people from around the world - switzerland, denmark, mexico, france, sweden, ireland, you get the idea. it made me quite grateful that english is my first language (because that's what everyone spoke), and also made me feel like like a lazy american who doesn't have to learn how to speak anything else. i did get quite defensive though when these jackasses from holland started talking crap about america. who knew i was so patriotic? this language thing also reiterated to me what bad english i speak. i was talking and this guy legitimately asked "is that english you're speaking?"

things at the orphanage are not great. everyone is sick, two of the volunteers have typhoid, and the youngest orphan, mwagi, who is three they guess, has broken his leg very badly and has been hospitalized for six weeks. im waiting for my cold to set in, as it feels inevitable with 32 coughing children running around, not covering their mouths. we got more volunteers, mostly from canada, one from chicago, and another guy from holland. i've been doing all field work (walking walking walking) and helping in the kitchen if needed in the evenings. we do child assessments and the guardians have to sign the paper with the questions on it (how is the child? how many meals does he/she get daily? how is their health? etc). most people can't speak english and the paper is all in english and i'm all in my western ideas of how could you sign something that is in a language you don't understand?! when the guardians cant write, because they never learned, eric shades their finger with pen and gets a fingerprint on it.

lucy, who is my absolute favorite - i know i shouldnt pick favorites, but i just love this girl - was looking very sad after dinner, so i went to sit by her and try to give her a hug and she put her head down on my lap, kind of lying on me. and i remember being little and my mom just gently rubbing my back and never ever wanting her to stop and i almost just burst into tears. but i didnt, i just rubbed her back and tried to make her feel better. and these moments hit me, where its obvious morgan, you are at an orphanage, as implied these children have no parents, but its like a ton of bricks sometimes. all the things we (i) have that they don't and never will and they still are as happy as can be. they make toy cars out of boxes we throw away - juice boxes, cereal boxes - and make wheels with soda pop caps, and just love pulling them around and actually share and it's just... humbling (i dont know if thats the right word). im being inarticulate.

well i've been on here for too long, so even though i feel like i have an outpour of things to say, i should go. i have to bear the two and a half (maybe 3) hour matatu ride back to pundamilia, so i should get on that.