Purple, Fail, and Peace.

Purple, Fail, and Peace.

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.”

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Change.

Change.

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.”