Friday, May 15, 2009

377. READING THE NEWSPAPER IN SWAHILI

READING THE
NEWSPAPER
IN SWAHILI

There's nothing to it really - a few
extra words, a few extra pages.
Things I don't often know about -
names of odd cars, other cuts of meat
from animals I'm not sure of. They play
some sort of checkerboard-pencil game
too, instead of crosswords and kengo.
The ink still rubs off on one's hands.
While I read, these little girls bring me
tea. Like working girls, already; but they're
only 11 or 12. Very off-putting. The young
boys too, if they're not scratching for money
swatting at flies (for a dime), they're looking
wistfully at something others are eating.
I don't often know what to do.
-
So many things are strange to
them here : leather shoes, make-up,
mirrors, erasable pens, antacids.
Not the stuff you'd expect - a million
stupid IPODS and five hundred
thousand Blackberrys. They think the
world is strangely distant, yet they
treat it, I see, as if it was as close
as any other. Everyman and
everyplace, growing
so close together.

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