I’m slowly (keyword: slowly) learning how to play the guitar. During my second week here, I sat with 3 friends (two Rwandans, one US citizen) and asked each one for a random word as I strummed the strings. They said: purple, fail, and peace. Continue reading “Purple, Fail, and Peace.”
Diarrhea is inevitable.
I am in a new country, eating new foods, and adding new types of bacteria to my stomach’s reserves. I fully expected the harried dashes to the bathroom. Thankfully, I’ve only had to make two trips to the porcelain throne for this purpose. The first time, I prayed, “Dear Lord: Please don’t let this mean I can no longer eat sambusas.” (Thankfully, I’ve been able to continue eating these delectably savory fried treats of ground beef wrapped in dough). Continue reading “Change.”
I made a mistake.
I often ask certain questions to learn more about people I meet, such as: “How many siblings do you have?” I then guess the person’s birth order, based on what I know about them so far. (For example, if they seem sensitive to the needs of others, I’ll typically guess they have younger siblings or at least one sister). Continue reading “Mistakes.”