you don't know

seriously... you dont know.

remember that "i will not be offended if..." list that i posted a few days ago?

my committment to not be offended was tested today... and so much so that i buried my head in lauren's shoulder on our matatu ride home today. it was pretty much the most horrible, humiliating, and hysterical kenyan experience for an overweight very tall white girl to have in one day.

today daniel, ina, lauren and i went to the Hope Bright Future children's home where many children who are sponsored through TI are housed. the children were precious, and i laughed and played and hugged and kissed them for hours... it was pretty much perfect... but that was the house.

the traveling there, though? oh dear God.

okay... so for my friends and family reading this, i would just like to say for the record, "i HAD a BAAAAD exPERIENCE!" that's your precursor to my adventures, and the only time i will mention its unpleasantness in the form of my utter humiliation at how my weight almost killed a few kenyan men today.

they might like my booty, but they dont like hauling it up hills, ya'll.

so... oh man. where do i start? okay... so when you get to the village where the children's home is, there is about a mile and a half of very hilly dirt roads that you travel by boda.

yes... i said boda. the bicycle... ME... on the back of a bicycle with kenyan men (yes, i just used the plural form) pedaling my butt up and over hills. does this worry anyone but me? good lord.

so we took a matatu to the village, and walked up the first really steep hill into a lush and green area in the hills of the village. the hills didnt look that big to me, but then again i didnt have to pedal up them with ME on the back. a bunch of boda drivers had followed us up the hill, and stood ready for us to get on each boda. i sized them up and started to worry.

daniel said "hope, take the one in front!" and i thought "seriously? do you need glasses? he's half my size!" but i trusted daniel, and got on. to dan's credit, the guy WAS actually the strongest looking one there... but that didnt change the fact that he was still half my size.

so dan gave my boda driver a not so little push to get him going (it was more like a running start), and we went along for a minute or two until the first hill. the FIRST hill. yeah... it was more like an INCLINE, and my driver definitely gave up.

GAVE UP, people! he tried... i give him that much... but he couldnt do it. all i could think was "alright, i better get to walking" because daniel and ina and lauren werent even in sight. i was all alone in the middle of a forest with a bunch of kenyans laughing at me, and a shrimpy one that couldnt get me where i needed to go. i know... i laughed at myself, too. i walked about 100 feet before a taller and stockier (thank God!) boda driver came from behind and stopped in front of me. it was the relay race i had originally put on that "i will not be offended if.." list.

he mustve been trailing us thinking "theres no way he's gonna make it, so i'll get her business" and there he was... just his luck... or demise... i'll let you decide.

he got me there. he stopped twice, and once a bunch of school girls saw that he was about to DIE i think, and they ran along and gave him some help by pushing us up a steeper hill. i was nonstop laughing at this point, along with EVERY SINGLE KENYAN along the side of the road. it was a spectator sport.

i didnt get mad or embarrassed... not until an older kenyan grandma yelled back at me "you shouldve taken a motorbike!" from her boda (who was passing mine). she looked at me like i was pointing a gun at a helpless child. i wanted to pull the trigger on HER. it was then that all those starbucks frappucchinos felt like dead weight on my thighs and i started to shrivel inside. it was not fun.

when my second boda driver got me to the children's home, he nearly fell over from exhaustion as daniel handed him 20 shillings more than the normal price... if i wouldve had 100 shillings for him, i wouldve given him it.

on the way back, it wasnt so dramatic... but a lady from the children's home saw the shrimpy boda drivers waiting for us, and yelled at them in swahili that they needed to find a driver who was strong enough to carry me. yup... not lying. by that point, i wanted lyposuction.

going back the way we'd come, the spectators who remembered my first two boda drivers and their olympic relay race to get me up the hills actually cheered for me like they were happy i was still alive and my drivers hadnt shot me. oh... and the school girls who helped my boda up that one hill? they followed me for a bit on the way back saying "you give us something!" like i ASKED them to push me.

i was no longer laughing... i wanted to flip them off... i wouldve yelled if we werent whizzing by.

which brings me to the end of my story... i think i broke the boda driver's bike on the way back. i didnt stop to see... i was too mortified. we started skidding when he was happy for the downhill part (or just couldnt move his legs), and when he used his brakes i think the chain of his bicycle rebelled and fell off. either way, i paid him double the normal price and ran to the sympathetic faces of the other mzungus who had been waiting for me for five minutes already.

they dont know.