6 June 2014
Friends have asked what I do day by day in Nairobi, so:
I wave the children off to school with Protus the driver, who then drives Fiona's bag to her MSF office (Medecine sans Frontieres). Fiona walks to work, but does not carry her bag as her computer is in it and she could be robbed. Back home, I am on my back on my floor in my room. We had to warn Judy the housekeeper that if she found me on the floor I had probably not fallen over nor was dead, but was meditating. I do this for half an hour each day to help my condition. I take daily turmeric, which is also for my condition and tastes so awful it has to work. Then come better things: Zuhura's fruit salad, yoghurt and muesli followed by much reading and writing - well really typing. Once the sun comes out I read in the garden until its time for lunch: also outside. Oh, I forgot about the rabbits, chickens and tortoises. The guards let the rabbits out of their wooden house (inside their enclosure). They have to be stroked and fed. Theodora the mother hen comes into the house if I forget to close a door so has to be shooed out. She doesn't like this and mostly leaves a very large calling card. The teenage chickens fight over the toast crumbs from breakfast, while the tortoises romp at their own pace and don't require feeding.
I go with Protus and Zuhura to the supermarket hoping it won't be bombed as Westgate was last September. At various times in the afternoon we pick up the children from school and, this week, we have been planning and plotting Maman's birthday bash. Sophia and I have laid the red carpet (ex sofa rug) for her to walk on. It is lined with the doo doos (not sure about the spelling: it's French as the children are half and therefore speak the language). A Masai warrior (statue not the real thing) stands on a table. Unable to be successfully wrapped up, he is draped in a scarf and a teeshirt with a huge painted birthday card hanging from one of his earrings to give Maman a clue as to what the present might be.
Oh, I've just been called to stippy tape a few more posters to the walls. More anon...
I wave the children off to school with Protus the driver, who then drives Fiona's bag to her MSF office (Medecine sans Frontieres). Fiona walks to work, but does not carry her bag as her computer is in it and she could be robbed. Back home, I am on my back on my floor in my room. We had to warn Judy the housekeeper that if she found me on the floor I had probably not fallen over nor was dead, but was meditating. I do this for half an hour each day to help my condition. I take daily turmeric, which is also for my condition and tastes so awful it has to work. Then come better things: Zuhura's fruit salad, yoghurt and muesli followed by much reading and writing - well really typing. Once the sun comes out I read in the garden until its time for lunch: also outside. Oh, I forgot about the rabbits, chickens and tortoises. The guards let the rabbits out of their wooden house (inside their enclosure). They have to be stroked and fed. Theodora the mother hen comes into the house if I forget to close a door so has to be shooed out. She doesn't like this and mostly leaves a very large calling card. The teenage chickens fight over the toast crumbs from breakfast, while the tortoises romp at their own pace and don't require feeding.
I go with Protus and Zuhura to the supermarket hoping it won't be bombed as Westgate was last September. At various times in the afternoon we pick up the children from school and, this week, we have been planning and plotting Maman's birthday bash. Sophia and I have laid the red carpet (ex sofa rug) for her to walk on. It is lined with the doo doos (not sure about the spelling: it's French as the children are half and therefore speak the language). A Masai warrior (statue not the real thing) stands on a table. Unable to be successfully wrapped up, he is draped in a scarf and a teeshirt with a huge painted birthday card hanging from one of his earrings to give Maman a clue as to what the present might be.
Oh, I've just been called to stippy tape a few more posters to the walls. More anon...
No comments:
Post a Comment