May 15, 2011

Last night all the windows were open and geckos were happily chirping outside. The mosquito net rustled in the night breeze, and I felt that all was right with the world. Then the mosquitoes came. They can’t get to you but they buzz around about five inches from your ear, lighting on the fabric, buzzing some more, whining. Though I tried to ignore them, the anticipation of a mosquito landing on the side of my face filled me with rage. So every couple of hours I would awake and stumble drowsily around the room, slapping mosquitoes against the wall and cursing. Fortunately, I killed all the mosquitoes. Unfortunately, I was wide-awake at 3 a.m. Clearly, getting up to squash mosquitoes completely defeats the purpose of having a mosquito net.

After having an early breakfast (I cannot in good faith recommend Wheatabix), we decided to take a hike in the direction that had gotten us lost the day before. About a mile down the road is a giant hayfield, easily a mile long, and teeming with birds. Interestingly, the field is full of what I think are called widowbirds. The males are about the size of a red-winged blackbird at home, have black plumage, with red-orange shoulders and head, with a long plume of tail, about half again as long as their bodies. The females are a dusty tan, with no tail plume – sorry ladies. Anyway, its breeding season for the widowbird, and they were busy trying to impress the girls. Males perch conspicuously on top of grass stems, launch themselves into the air and fly weakly for 30 or 40 yards, calling loudly and displaying their long tails, then disappear back into the grass. Better, they find an open patch of shorter vegetation, and hop up and down on the ground, their tail feathers curled over their head and wings fluttering weakly. The whole thing looks a little bit like the flopping of an epileptic fish. Looking out over the expanse of golden, waving hay, and seeing and hearing these strange birds display across the whole panorama was very impressive, and very unexpected. I spent A LOT of camera space on waving grass, the shadows of clouds, and trying to capture those birds displaying.

After hours of photography, we cut through the woods to return home. The trees were eucalyptus, which I suspect are not native, and a sort of pine, which had clearly been planted. . In the damp bottoms, we saw tracks of duiker, though for the most part, the trails were hard packed clay. Every now and then we would have to step aside for motorcycle taxis careening along through the deep ruts.

Emerging from the woods, we passed the soccer field near KARI. Sunday is the day for soccer in Muguga, and the town had shown up, vuvuzelas in hand, to support the team. Of course, we were once again the only white people, so everyone was staring at us as the children pointed and yelled, “Wazungu!” It all looked a bit too organized to simply walk up and play, so I will wait till I make some friends before venturing out onto the field.

I start work tomorrow, which will be a relief. There really is nothing to do out here in the afternoons other than read, and I have already finished all the books I brought. Kenyan television leaves something to be desired. Five of the eight channels show gospel services, while the other three are soap operas!

Goals for Monday:

1. 1. Get a cell phone

2. 2. Get some internet

3. 3. Get some cash

Best!