there are so many things i wish i could take photos of or describe vividly to you that make me pause. some are funny, some are tragic, all are ironic.
it is ironic when you see 3 traditional maasai women each wearing their 25-30 necklaces, earlobes drooping to their shoulders, buying their beads to make their distinctive jewelery from indians in a shop in nairobi that is so obviously dangerous that all the windows are barred and a security guard has to let you in the door.
it is ironic to look for "african" cloth in kampala, uganda only to find that the black africans are selling cheap polyester made in china and the indian africans are selling the "typical" african hand-dyed cloth made by black africans from a village.
it is ironic to see a maasai man sitting on an eldoret shopping street selling his "natural herbs" that cure all illnesses, but he is sitting on a wooden box drinking a coke and text messaging his buddies.
it is ironic that in canada, "punk rock" kids think they are ultra cool for stretching out their earlobes with plugs, while i walk behind an elderly man of 80ish whose earlobes are so stretched he has actually flipped them over the top of his ear to keep them from swaying too and fro.
it is ironic that to get a decent bike here, i had to buy it from a kenyan guy
who buys them from an indian guy who buys them from canadians, americans and europeans, who think they are no longer good enough to ride
and they are shipped to kenya to be bought back by canadians, americans and europeans
who are desperate for a bike good enough to ride in kenya.
it is ironic that the coffee mugs i bought for my friend at a local supermarket are actually Ikea mugs that were made in China.
it is ironic that although there are scores of countries to report on in africa, the national newspaper carries at least a full page on barack obama and the american election every day. i know more about the current american campaign than i ever knew about a canadian one, and i am not currently living in either of those countries.
it is ironic that in a culture that values children so much, people so easily ignore the 7 year old drug addict begging for money to buy food and fuel his glue addiction.
3 comments:
Now you know the answer to the song "do your ears hang low?". They are neither tied in a knot nor in a bow and they are not thrown over one's shoulder.....they are delicately placed over one's ear. Although I'm not sure how you'd set that to music....
Hope you are doing well. I'm praying for you.
Why do you think it is that the locals sell foreign made clothes, while the Indians sell the local made stuff?
How is the purse making/ handicrafts going? Or is that on hold now?
Best wishes, Alida.
I'm praying for you.
I hope all will go well.
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