Several blogs I read have linked to this article about Hinglish. When I lived in Nairobi, all those years ago, folks spoke Sheng, which was a mix of Swahili, English, and pretty much anything else that came along. It mutated so fast that you either knew it or you didn't - there was no way to learn it. These days, it's called something different, and has a completely different vocabulary. It's interesting to watch the changing vocabulary used on my Kenya site, even though I no longer understand most of what is said there.
When I was going to St. Andrews School, in Kenya, 20 years ago or so, one of our arch-rivals was Pembroke House, another boarding school.
Here at the conference, one of the meeting rooms is named Pembroke, and every time I see the sign, I can hear their Rugby coach yelling "Let's go Pembroke!"
** Transcribed from the original manuscript **
In 1986, I think, my class from Nairobi Academy went to Mt. Longonot for a field trip. No zoo or chocolate factory for us, no sir. We climbed a mountain. And not just a mountain - a volcano!
A few thousand years ago, Longonot blew its top. Literally. Its top - Mount Suswa - is several miles away, where it has no business, geologically speaking, being. The crater that remains is Longonot.
We left the bus at the bottom and climbed up to the crater rim, where we could look down into where Suswa once was. Then we set out to circumnavigate.
Jens and I, of course, had to be first. We had to run. Remember when you could run forever?
The highest peak lay directly opposite from where we had climbed, and we ran along the narrow path around the gaping crater, with certain death on both sides. What is certain death in comparison to the need to get there first?
Just for the record, I got there first.
From the peak of Longonot, you can see the whole world. At least, the important bits. Naturally, we had to get back first, too, but I wished we could have stayed a little longer. So many wonderful moments rushed past on the way to the next one.
We three - who was with us? Modupe? I can't remember for sure. - slid down the scree in the best roller coaster in the world. An avalanche of boys. Jens. Me. Modupe - yes, surely it was Modupe. Jerome missing. Forever missing. So recently missing. Always with us.
We return to the starting place, and wait for the return of our friends. Isn't that the way it always is?
Then, back home, knowing that we had conquered the ancient giant, and could conquor any other. Knowing that we would some day, very soon, climb Kenya, Kilimanjaro, Everest! (One of out three's not bad!)
And so, forever after, in every hike, climb, camp, I'm trying to return to Longonot.
** Transcribed from the original manuscript **
Yesterday I discovered that the word in the Toto song 'Africa' is 'bless', not 'miss.' I always knew it as 'miss.' Obviously, it should be 'miss.'
I miss the rains in Africa. Every afternoon at 4pm A.T. they would sweep up from the lake, hundreds of miles away. A.T. That's African Time. I shall get there when I get there. You will know it is time when it is time.
Like a gray curtain, woven of dreams and memories, the rains approach over the field, hiding what is behind them. The curtain climbs laboriously up the hill until it pauses on the other side of the road. It is dry here, and pouring over there. Looking both ways, the rain crosses the road, and now it is all around me, soaking me, hiding me, whispering secrets brought up from the lowlands.
And then the rain passes, the back side of the curtain climbing the hill, and now it is raining there, and here is only the sweet smell of wet grass and the drips from the big tree.
I miss the rains.
The rains bless me.
Matsu posted about locks, indirectly, in reference to folks getting sued for exposing vulnerabilities. Fortunately, my bike lock isn't susceptible to this vulnerability.
The lock on my bike is a chain with a combination lock that I've had for 23 years. It was the lock that was on my locker at Florida High School, in Tallahassee, and apparently I stole it from my locker when I left there. For years, it sat in various crates and boxes as I moved around, and I rediscovered it last month when I was looking for my other bike lock.
I remember coming across it at various times over the years, and feeling vaguely uneasy about it. I don't remember the exact incident, but I *seem* to remember that I swapped it for another lock, because I thought it likely that whoever had the locker the previous year might remember the combination, as I remembered my combination from the previous year's locker. Whatever the real story is, I still have this lock, and, through some bizarre trick of memory, my fingers remembered the combination, although I couldn't think of it when I stared at it at first.
