During the day the flies gather round the muzungo(white man) to feast. African are not bothered by flies and are entertained by my unusual ability to kill them.  About every hour the young hen come in and check the floor for flies, the ants carry the flies off to feast upon. Later on my second wife takes me to the road and again we board another matatu to go to the internet where I look at my email and look up answers to the days questions. Then we go to the market and buy bananas, rice, onions eggs and maybe a cabbage or carrots. Then back to the matatu which is always filled and I may sit on half a seat and watch my fingers and toes as once they closed my hand in the door. Now we stop and look for the tallest tree and walk home. For three weeks this was my routine. This place is almost perfect except for he mosquitoes who come out at nightfall. The Africans are bothered by the mosquitoes and many a sharp slaps are heard as they try to kill them but the only safety lies under the nets. Almost everyone has malaria. My co-wifes little boy had it and was taken to the hospital. They though it was a cold but his pitiful cries told me it was more. And I was right.  Since we are in my wives mothers house all signs of affection are prohibited. The father died many years before and at that moment time stopped and the mother maintains everything but no advancement. My joke is that a few miles away is the garden of eden. It is perfect growing weather hot sun in the day and then about 4pm it gets dark and we receive the rain. We save the rain water and we drink this and wash the clothes and me in this. The rain water is so soft you can hardly rinse yourself. We have a bore hole(well) but the water has very many minerals in it.

The only real problem is that people have been known to die of boredom and if all the cell phones were turned of I am sure this would happen. I visited grandma who lives alone as her co wife and sister died last month. Grandfather who is now dead long time married 3 sisters and grandma is now all alone. Somewhere in her late eighties she commented that I looked like 92 and I was upset until I realized the muzungo needed to be older than her. She gave me a rooster, so kind and we went back home and the pesky rooster we had was given away to feed the son who came that day.  I hate eating chickens I know personally. But my first wife is fine as she wrings there necks and boils them to remove the feathers and then cooks then. The chickens here in Kenya are so small u can't believe it.