Conceived in Belize, born in Kenya, raised in Namibia, British passport, in love with an American and lived there for the last ten years and most importantly my child is American, South African mother and British Father. I have in my blood, Irish, English, German, Malaysian, and Hottentot. With all of these names and places to define who I am I have ended up being none.
Growing up in Namibia I was never Namibian because I was not born there and my passport was British, I was reminded of this by people who liked to tease me but I chose to be Namibian in spite of the passport and in spite of the birth. It was the place I was, so how could I be anything but? If I chose one of the others I would always be yearning to leave and never be home. And so, emotionally, I clawed my way into a place where I stood up and claimed the dunes and the cold sea and the sun and the winter wind and made them into the things I loved and longed for.
Then I went to England, and Cape Town and America and always I wished to be back in Namibia, back where I belonged and back home. But now over time the balance has shifted. Many people I knew have moved away, the country has moved on and I have not been there to keep up. My accent has changed, and so has my perspective and those left behind take every pleasure in reminding me of it all. If I ever was Namibian, I can no longer claim to be so.
So now in my soul is a space, a place where who and what I am is blank but also like a puzzle just dumped out of its box. It isn't something that should be so and I must decide. Shall I fill it with everything or will I be able to finally belong to somewhere and some identity alone. Some place that will make me feel like I am home and I will always be home?
Tomorrow, I am going to Nakuru, place of my birth. I hope to stop at places that my parents and grandparents lived and worked, places I visited as a small child. I hope to fill in one more piece of who I am and make clear some of the confusion and loneliness I feel, at least by givng images to stories and places I have heard of throughout my life.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
A con at governmental levels
Recently we received a parcel from Emma's Great Grandma. It was two very cute little dresses, originally wrapped in pink tissue paper. When K picked it up from the Post Office he was told the following little story and then charged a fee for the package.
When international packages come in, apparently Customs is allowed to charge an import duty. To deduce the amount that this duty should be, a customs official opens the package in front of a postal employee, unwraps any gifts and assigns value to the gifts. Then they charge you some percentage of that value. Yes... that's right... they OPEN the package and UNWRAP the gifts. All sanctioned by LAW. I love this country, where even postal theft is governed.
I wonder, do they read the birthday card too? I am now tempted to have someone send me ribbed condoms and body chocolate and write salacious things in the card. Would that be 50 shillings? Or would that be free?
When international packages come in, apparently Customs is allowed to charge an import duty. To deduce the amount that this duty should be, a customs official opens the package in front of a postal employee, unwraps any gifts and assigns value to the gifts. Then they charge you some percentage of that value. Yes... that's right... they OPEN the package and UNWRAP the gifts. All sanctioned by LAW. I love this country, where even postal theft is governed.
I wonder, do they read the birthday card too? I am now tempted to have someone send me ribbed condoms and body chocolate and write salacious things in the card. Would that be 50 shillings? Or would that be free?
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Emma Update; dance with me darling, sweet and slow
Since she was born we have danced with Emma. Keir dances with her to Opera and Banjo music and I dance with her to 80's music and powerful female artists. Recently when you put on the music while holding her, she will grab your free hand and wave it around to indicate that it is time to dance. When you oblige she giggles, hums and asks to be dipped by throwing herself backwards while you twirl around the room.
You Little Beauty!
When you have read all the books written by a favourite author you can only read them again. But when you started reading their books as a teen and have been reading them for 15 years it's possible there are books you haven't read, or books you have forgotten that you read. Sometimes you think you discover one of these, dusty on your mother's bookshelf. There is an excitement at the familar grouping of letters in the author's name, coupled with the unfamiliar grouping of letters in the title. Perhaps you savour the book, not opening it for a few days, just letting your eye get used to the cover. Finally you settle down, snuggle up and open it. But oh! The terrible suspicion that creeps upon you by page 23. "Don't I know this character?" By page 100; "I do know this plot" by page 212, I recall the ending. You have two choices. Accept that you have read it and enjoy the prose once more, or set it down, unfinished but remembered.
I recently found what I thought had to be one of these. On a bookshelf in the dining hall at Mpala. A graveyard of books where "good" books are quickly snapped up and others grow ever dustier and infested by spiders, mice and other scurrying creatures.
Surely, surely, I have read all Elizabeth George's novels? Page 23 came and went, followed by page 100. Now I am in the deliscious excitement of letting her pull me towards the great reveal at the end, all the while amusing me, educating me and entertaining me. What a pleasure her words are, and how delightful to find new aspects to Tommy Lynley's character.
So now, having put my own words down and shared my find, I will return to the soft pages of my paperback and Ms. George's enlightening diction.
I recently found what I thought had to be one of these. On a bookshelf in the dining hall at Mpala. A graveyard of books where "good" books are quickly snapped up and others grow ever dustier and infested by spiders, mice and other scurrying creatures.
Surely, surely, I have read all Elizabeth George's novels? Page 23 came and went, followed by page 100. Now I am in the deliscious excitement of letting her pull me towards the great reveal at the end, all the while amusing me, educating me and entertaining me. What a pleasure her words are, and how delightful to find new aspects to Tommy Lynley's character.
So now, having put my own words down and shared my find, I will return to the soft pages of my paperback and Ms. George's enlightening diction.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
follow-up
Since I posted this I have had confirmation from my Mother that the tragic story about Cina and her violent beau was true.
Emma Update
She is really learning how to control the world around her, which includes K and I. She now takes one of our fingers and leads us around, showing us things and getting us to play with her. She has also started helping me with packing away things instead of just unpacking. Her conversation also sounds more and more like she knows exactly what she is saying and it is only us who don't. She will repeat the same "sentence" again and again trying to tell us something and we try and guess what it is she is saying from her body language.
She has started a really strange thing while she nurses, which is to put either her finger or her toe into my belly button. It is so uncomfortable but she is most insistent that this is the way things will be now. I am quite curious as to whether other babies do this, or what her reason is for it. Is it just that it is a perfect big-toe sized hole?
Her memory is also lasting longer as we logged onto Skype with her aunty and uncle and she nearly climbed into the computer in her excitement at seeing them. The last time she had seen them was three weeks before.
She has started a really strange thing while she nurses, which is to put either her finger or her toe into my belly button. It is so uncomfortable but she is most insistent that this is the way things will be now. I am quite curious as to whether other babies do this, or what her reason is for it. Is it just that it is a perfect big-toe sized hole?
Her memory is also lasting longer as we logged onto Skype with her aunty and uncle and she nearly climbed into the computer in her excitement at seeing them. The last time she had seen them was three weeks before.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
cucumber sandwiches anyone?
Today we availed ourselves of a friendly Mpala babysitter and went out for a couple of hours. We played tennis and then had a picnic on top of the Landy at a spot called Hippo Pools.
The tennis courts are up at the original Ranch house which is kept as a place to house VIP guests. It is kept up as it was when it was the home of the white Kenyan ranch owner and fits the bill of a colonial home perfectly. Think "Out of Africa" with shaded porches containing comfortable wicker furniture and sweeping lawns sloping out into the view of Mount Kenya.
The ranch's tennis courts are clay, which I have never played on before. (Actually, if I am honest I have never played tennis at all. I have, on many occasions, batted and swatted and even heaved at a tennis ball with a tennis racket, on a tennis court) The red clay is reflected beyond the court into the savanna which surrounds it, and as you lob the ball up for a serve Mt. Kenya is framed behind it. Quite a venue.
K and I thoroughly enjoyed tooling about on the court and he even made me do some real warm-up exercises. Then we settled in for a "game". Within minutes we abandoned the game and decided to just try and manage to hit the ball to one another. This was quite effective as K is fast enough to run about and catch most of my forehand. My backhand sent birds, dikdiks and monkeys outside the courts scurrying. After a while we decided that we would hit the ball to each other twenty times and then go and get lunch. Then we decided we would hit the ball to each other fifteen times and then go and get lunch. Eventually we decided nine was a little bit like fifteen and left.
Hippo pools is a spot where the Ewaso Nyero river makes a big loop and creates a still pool with a broad bank perfect for Hippos and crocs to pull themselves out of the water. Well, actually just one croc. The bend in the river has created a floodplain where incredibly tall fever trees grow. These are acacia xanthophloea. They are trees with a bright green bark on trunks that grow straight up and tall, and their branches spread out in a thick fan high above. They are graceful trees and their presence at Hippo pools makes it the perfect spot to sit and watch the wildlife and birds. After our exertions we enjoyed our lunch of avo and tomato sandwiches and felt completely vindicated in finishing a whole bar of chocolate.
The tennis courts are up at the original Ranch house which is kept as a place to house VIP guests. It is kept up as it was when it was the home of the white Kenyan ranch owner and fits the bill of a colonial home perfectly. Think "Out of Africa" with shaded porches containing comfortable wicker furniture and sweeping lawns sloping out into the view of Mount Kenya.
The ranch's tennis courts are clay, which I have never played on before. (Actually, if I am honest I have never played tennis at all. I have, on many occasions, batted and swatted and even heaved at a tennis ball with a tennis racket, on a tennis court) The red clay is reflected beyond the court into the savanna which surrounds it, and as you lob the ball up for a serve Mt. Kenya is framed behind it. Quite a venue.
K and I thoroughly enjoyed tooling about on the court and he even made me do some real warm-up exercises. Then we settled in for a "game". Within minutes we abandoned the game and decided to just try and manage to hit the ball to one another. This was quite effective as K is fast enough to run about and catch most of my forehand. My backhand sent birds, dikdiks and monkeys outside the courts scurrying. After a while we decided that we would hit the ball to each other twenty times and then go and get lunch. Then we decided we would hit the ball to each other fifteen times and then go and get lunch. Eventually we decided nine was a little bit like fifteen and left.
Hippo pools is a spot where the Ewaso Nyero river makes a big loop and creates a still pool with a broad bank perfect for Hippos and crocs to pull themselves out of the water. Well, actually just one croc. The bend in the river has created a floodplain where incredibly tall fever trees grow. These are acacia xanthophloea. They are trees with a bright green bark on trunks that grow straight up and tall, and their branches spread out in a thick fan high above. They are graceful trees and their presence at Hippo pools makes it the perfect spot to sit and watch the wildlife and birds. After our exertions we enjoyed our lunch of avo and tomato sandwiches and felt completely vindicated in finishing a whole bar of chocolate.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Emma Update
It is a joy to watch Emma growing in leaps and bounds daily. She lovesto fogure out stuff, especially real stuff rather than toys. She puts lids back on bottles, opens cupboards and drawers, tips up her sippy cup and presses buttons.
She also "talks" on the phone. She loves few things better than to put your cell phone to her ear and walk around, having a chat with someone. She has long conversations which are mostly one-sided and holds one hand out to the side, fingers splayed. What is really funny is that when the phone actually rings she looks at it in horror and gives it to you to take care of the annoying person who dares to talk back.
She has just this week started to love her stuffed animals. She has a number of them and has mostly ignored them. This week she has been carrying two favourites around with her, snuggling them and talking to them. One is a Frog who is bigger than her, named Prince Charming and the other is a soft hound dog named Bond. She adores it when you take all three of them on your lap and cuddle together.
She also "talks" on the phone. She loves few things better than to put your cell phone to her ear and walk around, having a chat with someone. She has long conversations which are mostly one-sided and holds one hand out to the side, fingers splayed. What is really funny is that when the phone actually rings she looks at it in horror and gives it to you to take care of the annoying person who dares to talk back.
She has just this week started to love her stuffed animals. She has a number of them and has mostly ignored them. This week she has been carrying two favourites around with her, snuggling them and talking to them. One is a Frog who is bigger than her, named Prince Charming and the other is a soft hound dog named Bond. She adores it when you take all three of them on your lap and cuddle together.
A Tall Tale?
When I was young my maternal grandmother had a maid who always wore a cloth over her face. She wore it to cover the lower part of her face but her eyes were always kind above it. The cloth made it very hard to understand what she said and her voice sounded raspy, as if she had been smoking since she was as small as I was then.
Her name was Cina and one day I got up enough courage to ask Granny Hazel why Cina wore the cloth. The tale went like this. When Cina was young she was incredibly beautiful with a rosebud mouth and a small pert nose. She had many suitors but eventually she started going with just one very handsome young man. They were well matched and she cared a great deal for him but of course there was a fly in the ointment. Her beau was incredibly jealous of Cina and suspicious of any man who had contact with Cina. One day they went to a braai of a mutual friend and Cina's boyfriend saw her flirting with another friend of theirs. Cina's boyfriend flew into a rage and took up the woodchopper sitting next to the braai. He first chopped at the flirty friend and then swung the chopper and sliced off the front of Cina's face.
Cina tried various kinds of surgery to reconstruct her face but was left with terrible disfigurement and much scarring.
I was utterly horrified at this story and have thought often of it, the details remained very clear in my mind as I grew up. It is only now though that I have examined the tale and thought that it has the resonance of a tale rather than a true story. Do people truly have rosebud mouths combined with pert noses? Is it possible to cleave a persons nose from their face with a woodchopper? My Grandmother always told very good stories and now she is gone I am left to wonder forever if this is just a story, or true and tragic.
Her name was Cina and one day I got up enough courage to ask Granny Hazel why Cina wore the cloth. The tale went like this. When Cina was young she was incredibly beautiful with a rosebud mouth and a small pert nose. She had many suitors but eventually she started going with just one very handsome young man. They were well matched and she cared a great deal for him but of course there was a fly in the ointment. Her beau was incredibly jealous of Cina and suspicious of any man who had contact with Cina. One day they went to a braai of a mutual friend and Cina's boyfriend saw her flirting with another friend of theirs. Cina's boyfriend flew into a rage and took up the woodchopper sitting next to the braai. He first chopped at the flirty friend and then swung the chopper and sliced off the front of Cina's face.
Cina tried various kinds of surgery to reconstruct her face but was left with terrible disfigurement and much scarring.
I was utterly horrified at this story and have thought often of it, the details remained very clear in my mind as I grew up. It is only now though that I have examined the tale and thought that it has the resonance of a tale rather than a true story. Do people truly have rosebud mouths combined with pert noses? Is it possible to cleave a persons nose from their face with a woodchopper? My Grandmother always told very good stories and now she is gone I am left to wonder forever if this is just a story, or true and tragic.
Tru Dat
Our cistern sprung a leak. When the tap is turned on water poured from it in a pretty arc like one of those boy cherubs peeing artfully into a fountain. Our plumber came along to look at it and said that it was fine. After I showed him how to turn the tap on and allowed the leak to flow, he played his hand in the water appreciating the cool on his fingers for a moment. Then he proclaimed; "It is broken" and left. We haven't seen him since.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Emma Update
She is just a walking fool! Last Monday she decided it was time and suddenly released her grip on the table, chairs and bath and struck out into the spaces of the house. We were so thrilled and watched her with tears in our eyes. True to her social form, she walked mostly towards people, giving the Mpala folk as much of a thrill as she did us.
On Tuesday and the rest of the week she changed her mind and decided crawling was easier. On the weekend she gave it another go and has really taken to it. She walks most places and has found that it is most convenient when you need to carry things. It is so convenient that she is carrying around hilarious items, like the trash can and laundry basket, both of which are far too large for her.
Her walk is a little shuffle, where each knee bends awkwardly and the foot crashes to the floor to be dragged a little ways. It sounds like we have a very tiny zombie careening around the house. She has little control so sort of aims herself in the direction she wants to go and gets faster and faster as she goes along 'til she falls against the couch, your legs etc. I think her right leg is stronger than her left as she tends to pivot on that leg and so quite often just wonders in circles around a room. We managed to post a couple of very short videos on the picasa site - if you don't have the link, email me.
On Tuesday and the rest of the week she changed her mind and decided crawling was easier. On the weekend she gave it another go and has really taken to it. She walks most places and has found that it is most convenient when you need to carry things. It is so convenient that she is carrying around hilarious items, like the trash can and laundry basket, both of which are far too large for her.
Her walk is a little shuffle, where each knee bends awkwardly and the foot crashes to the floor to be dragged a little ways. It sounds like we have a very tiny zombie careening around the house. She has little control so sort of aims herself in the direction she wants to go and gets faster and faster as she goes along 'til she falls against the couch, your legs etc. I think her right leg is stronger than her left as she tends to pivot on that leg and so quite often just wonders in circles around a room. We managed to post a couple of very short videos on the picasa site - if you don't have the link, email me.
Monty Python was wrong
My Mother's shower in Namibia is the kind that makes you sing. Volubly and for the entire glorious time it takes you to get clean. I sang "gone fishing", "cheek to cheek", "morning has broken" and a favourite - "the bright side of life". It is HOT, there is pressure, the light shines in through the window, and the towels are fluffy and dry.
There was nothing to sing about in this evening's shower. It was the opposite of a singing kind of shower. It was a shower in which songs run down the drain and into Grevy Houses' septic field, never to be heard again. You won't even be able to find their lyrics on Google.
The water trickles, nay, it oozes from the nozzle. It is lukewarm, not cold so that you can complain with pride about having a cold shower. The parts of your body which stick out of the water (ie: most parts) are vulnerable to dive bombing and large mosquitoes. The water is weak-tea coloured, leaving you in doubt as to whether you are actually getting clean. The last and final insult is that here is another country where towels do not dry from day to day, but instead are clammy to the frail and beaten and bitten skin.
There is no bright side of life to this shower. Monty Python should go take a hike.
There was nothing to sing about in this evening's shower. It was the opposite of a singing kind of shower. It was a shower in which songs run down the drain and into Grevy Houses' septic field, never to be heard again. You won't even be able to find their lyrics on Google.
The water trickles, nay, it oozes from the nozzle. It is lukewarm, not cold so that you can complain with pride about having a cold shower. The parts of your body which stick out of the water (ie: most parts) are vulnerable to dive bombing and large mosquitoes. The water is weak-tea coloured, leaving you in doubt as to whether you are actually getting clean. The last and final insult is that here is another country where towels do not dry from day to day, but instead are clammy to the frail and beaten and bitten skin.
There is no bright side of life to this shower. Monty Python should go take a hike.
Ups and Downs
Mpala has given me a pavlovian response that is interesting to note. Sitting at the computer this evening I heard the crack of branches outside. I sprang up and raced from window to window trying to see the elephant. Usually the sound of cracking branches means that somewhere there is an elly browsing. Today it was the sound of the Askari building the fire for our donkey boiler so that we could get hot water. I was momentarily saddened that there was no elephant but quickly bouyed by the idea of a hot shower soon to come!
Friday, November 12, 2010
The Ordinary amidst the Extraordinary
Elephants visited us again this evening. This time early enough for Emma to be awake and see them. They moved in from the ring road and munched their way around the house, feeding on trees, grasses and our last houseplant - evicted from the house for being a spider hider.
The Elephants had no fear of being close to the house and we could see them really clearly, so clearly that I was afraid they could see us inside the house and would get upset, but luckily they did not seem bothered by us.
After watching them for about 20 minutes Emma became bored and it was getting to the time of evening where she is irritable and almost ready for bed. I realised I was going to have to bath her. It seemed strange and irreverent to do such a mundane activity as a bath when the house was surrounded by at least 25 elephants. She splished and splashed happily oblivious to my ponderings and discomfort. It was also disconcerting to put the lights on so that she could have her ten minutes of quiet play and reading before bed. Turning on the lights made us visible and the Elephants out in the darkening dusk hidden amongst the bushes.
Emma nursed and then I swung her to sleep in my arms, humming Hobo's lullabye and listening carefully to the swish and crunch of grass being torn up and eaten just outside the bedroom window.
The evening and the visit ended with K and I playing a game of speed scrabble at the dining table, tete-a-tete, while listening uneasily to a tummy, a very large tummy, rumbling somewhere outside and close by.
The Elephants had no fear of being close to the house and we could see them really clearly, so clearly that I was afraid they could see us inside the house and would get upset, but luckily they did not seem bothered by us.
After watching them for about 20 minutes Emma became bored and it was getting to the time of evening where she is irritable and almost ready for bed. I realised I was going to have to bath her. It seemed strange and irreverent to do such a mundane activity as a bath when the house was surrounded by at least 25 elephants. She splished and splashed happily oblivious to my ponderings and discomfort. It was also disconcerting to put the lights on so that she could have her ten minutes of quiet play and reading before bed. Turning on the lights made us visible and the Elephants out in the darkening dusk hidden amongst the bushes.
Emma nursed and then I swung her to sleep in my arms, humming Hobo's lullabye and listening carefully to the swish and crunch of grass being torn up and eaten just outside the bedroom window.
The evening and the visit ended with K and I playing a game of speed scrabble at the dining table, tete-a-tete, while listening uneasily to a tummy, a very large tummy, rumbling somewhere outside and close by.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
New Friends
Each day towards the evening our new friends arrive at the house. Mostly they sit in the tree and look sideways at us but occasionally they come closer.
The most friendly is a chap I have named Deckens as he is a Von Der Deckens Hornbill. He is the one who taps on the windows at ungodly hours. Although recently Emma has claimed all the ungodly hours for herself and 6am is considered a lie in. Deckens has a wifey who I have uninspiringly named Vonder. He also has two buddies and their wives who all hang around in the trees being hopeful. I have been rewarding their hopefulness with handfuls of muesli but they are too shy to come and get it off the porch and they wait until Em and I have retreated indoors.
Of course the problem with Deckens and his entourage is that Spiro is taking inspiration from him. Yesterday while we sat having lunch admiring our partially completed fence he came along with two pals and ventured with his backup onto the porch, clearly hopeful of crumbs. I had a stack of stones handy though and quickly sent them packing. This week it will be my mission to trap Spiro and transport him elsewhere before he teaches bad manners to all the local squirrels. I do feel twinges of guilt about this as, yes he is quite cute and also it was another human who taught him his bad manners but it must be done before he climbs inside anyone else's pants.
In the vein of new friends, we have taught some of the Mpala permanent researchers how to play scat, and I think they are addicted already. This bodes well for the long evenings that we have left in Kenya.
The most friendly is a chap I have named Deckens as he is a Von Der Deckens Hornbill. He is the one who taps on the windows at ungodly hours. Although recently Emma has claimed all the ungodly hours for herself and 6am is considered a lie in. Deckens has a wifey who I have uninspiringly named Vonder. He also has two buddies and their wives who all hang around in the trees being hopeful. I have been rewarding their hopefulness with handfuls of muesli but they are too shy to come and get it off the porch and they wait until Em and I have retreated indoors.
Of course the problem with Deckens and his entourage is that Spiro is taking inspiration from him. Yesterday while we sat having lunch admiring our partially completed fence he came along with two pals and ventured with his backup onto the porch, clearly hopeful of crumbs. I had a stack of stones handy though and quickly sent them packing. This week it will be my mission to trap Spiro and transport him elsewhere before he teaches bad manners to all the local squirrels. I do feel twinges of guilt about this as, yes he is quite cute and also it was another human who taught him his bad manners but it must be done before he climbs inside anyone else's pants.
In the vein of new friends, we have taught some of the Mpala permanent researchers how to play scat, and I think they are addicted already. This bodes well for the long evenings that we have left in Kenya.
Emma update
Man she is adorable! I know I am biased but seriously, there is nothing else this cute! Even the baby elephant that came through last week is not this cute.
She is cutting two new teeth, soon she will be sporting four on the bottom instead of two. The left one has broken through and about a quarter of it is showing. Emma's favourite toy is once again the crochet hook and the drool runs down it while she chews on it and pulls the hook part against her gum.
Most exciting is how hard she is working on walking. She took two steps from the bath to the sink on her own during the week and K and I were thrilled and held our breath while she did it. Then today she took three steps, falteringly from a chair into open space but fell down. She did try again later and again fell down but I really think it won't be long now 'til she is motoring around on her own. Thankfully, they are in the process of building a fence around our porch so we will be able to spend more time safely outside in the cool air looking at all the birds (and squirrels).
She is cutting two new teeth, soon she will be sporting four on the bottom instead of two. The left one has broken through and about a quarter of it is showing. Emma's favourite toy is once again the crochet hook and the drool runs down it while she chews on it and pulls the hook part against her gum.
Most exciting is how hard she is working on walking. She took two steps from the bath to the sink on her own during the week and K and I were thrilled and held our breath while she did it. Then today she took three steps, falteringly from a chair into open space but fell down. She did try again later and again fell down but I really think it won't be long now 'til she is motoring around on her own. Thankfully, they are in the process of building a fence around our porch so we will be able to spend more time safely outside in the cool air looking at all the birds (and squirrels).
plumbing
Well the Monday following our amusing plumbing, the boss man turned up to look at the loo for himself. He took one look at it and figured out what the problem was and then within five minutes had fixed it and fixed the other running loo. Totally spoiled my fun with the other chap and his cohorts.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Revenge is sweet
Same night as the squirt gun incident. It's 1:36am and all are asleep. Ratatatatatttatt! Spiro on the roof again. Tatttatttatt! Emma stirs. Rattattat! She wakes! Ratattatt! I nurse her and she goes straight back to sleep. Rattattatt! No reaction. I call this a draw. Spiro 3 - 2 Tasha still.
En Guarde!
Emma and I were sitting on the porch feeding the birds. We had five hornbills, three males and two females, two male weavers and one female, a host of sparrow weavers and a morning thrush. We also had Spiro. He ducked and wove his way down the branches and then snuck down the trunk and across the ground. As soon as his feet touched the porch I squirted him with my water gun. SPLAT!! *insert evil and even maniacal laughter* He ran back the way he came and kept on going! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Tasha 2 - 3 Spiro ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Monday, November 01, 2010
Baridi
Priscilla has a horror for all things cold. I have told you before of how she is always inspecting Emma and telling me how she needs socks and shoes and a jacket and hat, indoors. Well we got socks and she now wears either those or shoes and generally a jersey since it has been chilly in the mornings.
I have now introduced a whole new "crazy Americans" or possibly "bad parent" for her. Emma is getting new teeth, the next two on the bottom are coming through and we are in full combat pain mode. One of our most effective tools are the frozen chew toys. I took one out of the freezer and gave it to Emma. Priscilla watched me closely, then grabbed the toy and felt it. She gave exclamations of horror; "Baridi! Baridi!" Baridi is the Swahili word for cold. I pantomimed that it helped with the teeth but she just kept telling me, repeatedly, how cold it was. I decided to exit stage right and took Emma with me, chewing on her icy toy. Leaving Priscilla to shake her head in dismay.
I have now introduced a whole new "crazy Americans" or possibly "bad parent" for her. Emma is getting new teeth, the next two on the bottom are coming through and we are in full combat pain mode. One of our most effective tools are the frozen chew toys. I took one out of the freezer and gave it to Emma. Priscilla watched me closely, then grabbed the toy and felt it. She gave exclamations of horror; "Baridi! Baridi!" Baridi is the Swahili word for cold. I pantomimed that it helped with the teeth but she just kept telling me, repeatedly, how cold it was. I decided to exit stage right and took Emma with me, chewing on her icy toy. Leaving Priscilla to shake her head in dismay.
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