By lunchtime today I had visited a house where mourners gathered around a dead body, seen a man beat his wife in front of dozens of onlookers, and heard a man’s account of having shot a thief with an arrow. Even for Menya, that’s a lot for a morning.
This morning I was visited by one of our closest neighbors, Mati. It was the first time I’d seen her since our return because she and her family had been sleeping in a house near one of their gardens. After a “hello” she told me she had helped Edwin, her husband, with the thatched roof…
Have you ever wondered what we carry in all our red bags? If so, you share something in common with the T.S.A. Click the picture to read more.
Back in Menya folks have limited wardrobes–most men wear the same shirt every day. I’ve not yet been able to blend in and I think it might be the variety in my attire that makes me so easy to identify as an outsider.