ohb

She's still yapping on...

Sunday morning, the Velvet Underground are not very popular here but early Sunday morning mass is, I’ve really got used to getting up early, going for a siesta in the afternoon and retiring early at night after a few games of 110. I resigned from the game last night though, for various reasons and don’t know if I should stick to it or come crawling back tonight. Cards as you know can become a very serious game.
We are still in Kitale, going swimming now at 11 in the Kitale golf club, a remnant of colonial powers, which I feel really weird frequenting but I suppose there is artificialness in deliberately seeking out the hardship also. Kitale is so much different from Turkana, well I suppose that goes for everywhere in Kenya. It’s lush and green with trees and a much milder climate. The town has a paved street and hordes of Indian shop keepers lounging behind their counters, happy to take Muzungo money. The papers are full of tales of corruption and the resignation of ministers and members of cabinet, though from what I’ve seen these people reinstate themselves promptly after their pseudo protest. It’s really hard to culminate all the information and images that have been passing before me in the last few weeks, Padraig has so many tales of corruption, theft and dishonesty that it makes you wonder how people continue to try. I have, from being here as well acquired a whole new understanding of the church and its workings outside of Ireland. People, good people seem to be using the church as a channel through which to help others and further development, obviously they all uphold their own spiritual views but here somehow it seems ok where they practice what they attempt to preach, not as hypocritical as some at home. Here you see religious of all ages living in difficult conditions and doing their best to educate and care for others. Some of the weirdest things have been perhaps the most superficial like meeting a young priest in shorts and t-shirt, with long hair and a wooden cross hanging from around his neck, the farthest from our typical image of a priest that you could get. It just proves that it’s all on the inside and that we or in particular I, still need to get rid of a few pigeon holes.

posted by orlagh @ 6:29 pm