Tefash! I know, you lost me. I probably warned you, I’m pretty bad at keeping a blog. I’m good at writing letters though! Which is why I’ve decided to forgo the posta bet and post my latest letter home. (Mom, Dad, Cassie.. this was to you.) It’s the best update I can give you with limited time. I hope to have better internet access in November. Until then, please write! I have my very own P.O. Box (listed on the side) and I promise, I always write back.
I’m sort of cheating on this letter and addressing it to all of you, since I find myself repeating a lot of stuff… or forgetting who I told what to. So… how is life? Fill me in. Please 🙂
I’m still living and breathing here in Agaro, 8 degrees latitude and 37 degrees longitude. The most recent of news is that my Muslim family opened their brand new cafe. They now have two, but the new one is in the tall, modern building in town and serves food with a menu! It’s hard to paint an accurate picture of this without some sort of background to compare it to, but this is pretty novel for Agaro. Jafar, the brother, mainly runs it and I’m so proud of him. Plus, they treat me like family, so it’s fun to be a part of it all.
It’s been rainy here today, which means bizu ch’ika (a lot of mud). I get my big Keen kickers on and am grateful for them everyday. Actually, there’s a lot of gratitude going on here. For instance, for my bug net. Have I mentioned yet how grateful I am to have this beautiful white-netted aura protecting me from all things creepy and crawly? That goes in hand with my fly swatter, which allows me to conduct bug combat at a safe distance from leaping retaliation. Then of course there’s the third tier of my battle: roach spray. I’m pretty sure I’m subjecting myself to cancer with this stuff, but it’s keeping me sane. At least, mostly sane. I see moving things in the corner of my eyes now that I’ll chalk up to bug paranoia.
And from bug killing we move on to beg killing. (That’s sheep in Amharic.) A few mornings ago we got a sheep. I’ve been around long enough to know that sheep here are not pets. The question was really, when. I got my answer when I stepped out my door to no less than 11 vultures, hovering on the roof and chilling in our yard. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a vulture, but they’re the size of a small child. Maybe even a large child. At first I was confused, thinking maybe they came for the dog who is quite literally on his last leg. Then I turned the corner and saw our skinless sheep hanging upside-down from the tree. (Dad, I’ll take your deer in the garage for that, any day.) But no worries, we’ve already got another bleating sheep to replace it, sitting on death row. I’m really glad I’m not a sheep in this world. (And there is another bit of gratitude for you.)
Something a little less Africa here, I’ve got five seasons of How I Met Your Mother on hard drive. Man that show is funny. It brings me back home for 20 minutes at a time. Except, have you ever noticed how much food they have on that show? I swear, Robin is eating ice cream every other episode. I hate her. Also Cass, I have a few seasons of Mad Men. I haven’t started them yet, but I’ll let you know when I do. To be honest, I read a lot more than anything. I’m getting through a lot of good books. Which reminds me, if you have any old magazines you want to send, I’d love to read them. I guarantee they’ll be news to me.
Alright, well that’s all I’ve got for now! I’m off to meet some friends for coffee. Love and miss you all!