For the pleasure of a good story at our final debrief in Houston we were asked to
submit an account of certain experiences for sharing. In the end most were not
read or heard and so i thought i might post a few i wrote. there may be a
repeat or two of previous blogs but hey- i like each one of these and hope you
get a chuckle or two as well.
these first two where to recall a memory of something funny a teammate did.
“investing in Jesus”
so sometimes the worst part about going to bed is that you have to get
these first two where to recall a memory of something funny a teammate did.
“investing in Jesus”
so sometimes the worst part about going to bed is that you have to get
up when the sleep is over. going to bed sometimes you find yourself saying I’m
not even asleep yet and I don’t want to wake up because you know how tired
you are. sometimes even when you’re in bed your subconscious won’t let you fully
sleep cause it knows if you are entirely allowed to plunge into dark silent oblivion
known as rest and there will be no waking up. then the morning comes and the
indestructible mesh of mosquito net is a lovely safe haven from the world. who
wants to choose out of that? I mean really, why leave? at least this was Reese’s
general reasoning on any given morning….”no I am not getting out of bed- you
can’t make me.” “Why?” “Cause I just don’t want to… I don’t. There’s nothing
wrong with that.” At this point T’s patience has run dry or her misunderstanding
that not everyone has been awake since 5 am drives her to the irrational act of
attack. Both T and Nita proceed to penetrate the mosquito net grabbing flailing
limbs in effort to remove the fleece dwelling sloth from her nest.
On one particular occasion in Tororo Reese decides to retaliate for all such
On one particular occasion in Tororo Reese decides to retaliate for all such
insults assaulted on her in the past. Jess, putting on a Mr. grumpy face protests
in the most pitiful whimper to the reasonable suggestion of “Nita get up!” The series
of conversation that followed was too quick to catch and hardly called for I must say
you two! …..something about justified butt slapping in response to an uncalled for
pantsing. I roll my eyes and chuckle at the same time…before I realize Reese makes
a move one might call pouncing to which Nita retreats beneath the covers. Apparently
Reese has a lot of pent up aggression about this whole thing and is having surprising
success. Normally I am one to remain silent and lay low in hopes of not getting drug
around on the floor and being slapped happy by T however I happen to be sharing
the bed with Nita and instincts just kick in. I swiftly begin shouting things that sound
all too much like what my mother might say and rush to provide assistance. Apparently
I thought the best move would be to grab Nita’s thigh and begin heaving her back
onto the bed. T, acting as though she has never seen such an unruly display thinks
she is safe to make a commentary from a far in her bed. To which Reese spins around
saying “hey missy you’re still in bed, you can’t say a thing” Realizing what a detrimental
move she just made, T shouts under attack, “I’m not tired I’m not tired I’m investing in
Jesus!” All I really remember after that is T wedged between her bed and ours, butt on
the floor and feet in the air.. the rest of us doubled over laughing.
“Jail break”
Not really a story, just an unforgettable image that occurred daily. In Busia the
“Jail break”
Not really a story, just an unforgettable image that occurred daily. In Busia the
lock system on our house was in such a way that we had to lock ourselves in at night.
Not just shut the door and lock but rather fix the glass outer entrance and padlock,
close the metal gate and secure the other 5 sliding latches then padlock the top and
bottom hooks and then hide all the keys in the sink. It provided peace of mind I suppose
but the unfortunate feature of the house is that the squatty is outside across the yard.
My beloved roommate and bunk buddy Tara “chai” Borman has a generally unknown
predicament of urgent morning pee. Entirely predictable almost every morning was the
scramble coming out beneath the mosquito tent from across the room, a stumbling
sleepyhead towards the hall, then the horrid moan of our ever complaining door that
sounded like the bowels of a ship at sea. not only one but then the second to access
the front room.. mission 2- find the keys. clang clang jingle- o crap. mission 3- get to the
front door. stumble stumble, walk straight into the same all you bonked into yesterday,
struggle through disorientation, mumble vaguely- ureeka..door! mission 4 -open locks.
in defense of her dignity metal gates are impossible to open quietly in general let alone
while you’re sleeping however grabbing the bars and rattling them is not going to free
you, but only summon other foggy groggy squinty mzungus into the front room. Then all
we have is not only one but 5 sleepy people walking into walls aimlessly but with great
determination to get something done. Eventually she would find her way out of prison
and was free to sprint to the squatty. Blast you squatty! Why it had to be across the
yard I could never figure out. I found myself in the same predicament on several accounts
and getting from the front step to being safely inside was a challenge. To the ever
observing Africans over the fence we must have looked hysterical as one mzungu after
another make their way with one foot directly in front of the other, knees slightly bend
trying to be speedy but all around looking like a penguin.
-jenessa lynn
-jenessa lynn
