Lord of the Flies

The culture shock set in this weekend in the form of a small child. There he was standing, flies crawling all over his face, in and out of his ears and mouth, up his green snot leaking nose, and strolling across his eyes.
We ventured out to Olturotto to see some friends of Paul. They live in a traditional Masai homstead and had invited us to come see their son sing in a church singing and verse reciting competition and then have dinner. We offroaded in the van with Charlie, our trusty rockstar driver singing along to various american pop hits turned reggae songs, managing each bump and hole and traffic malfeasance with an adeptness that makes him my hero.
We were very excited to see wildebeast and zebras and ostriches and the day was sunny and bright. After a while we arrived at the home and hopped out of the van to greet people. Immediately we were swarmed by flies. Swarmed I tell you. It was horrifying and though I tried to hide the look on my face people immediately started laughing and telling me i would get used to it in a bit. As I was trying to maintain my composure and be polite I saw him...the Lord of the Flies. I wanted to vomit and then spray him with a firehose, but instead I was hearded back into the van with our hosts and their children and the neighbors children. As I sat down, the swarm did not cease, instead becoming slightly more unbearable since we were now trapped in an enclosed space and seated many deep. Aubree turned around and was just laughing-she later said it was almost more than she could handle and she's travled and lived in some of the most desolate, desparate, impoverished places on the planet. so she figured I was probably about to die. Arriving at the competition was a sweet relief and sort of amusing as it was explained that the the loudest singers were chosen more frequently than those with any real skill. Many of the children sitting in front of us had never seen mzungu (white person) before and were very curious, touching our hands to see if rubbed off. Paul was applying sunscreen and wiped it on the arm of a young boy to his horror. Apparently Paul likes to tell children that sunscreen is what makes him white, which actually isnt a complete lie.
After the contest and a lot of sitting around baking in the sun we returned to the van, the homestead and the flies. By this time the children were very comfortable with us and were happy to rub their sticky snotty hands all over me as the fly seige continued. As the sun began going down the flies slowly tapered off, I learned how to milk a cow, and then and it was time to kill a goat. More on that another day, but the family thought it was funny that i had a stomach for slaughter and not for flies.
The family was kind enough to put us in the two real beds they had. In the morning we helped heard the cattle for their weekly spray (to prevent ticks) and we learned how to make chapati and helped fetch water as there is no running or any relatively clean water in this area. The family may eat meat once or twice a month, and generally subsists on rice, potatoes, and beans, along with kale cooked in fat. Bathing and washing clothes are very difficult due to the lack of water. When Charlie came back to pick us up I felt bad for feeling relieved to go (the flies were back with reinforcements and after watching them dive bomb everyone's chai and molest the chapati i had no appetite left). Its funny, because even if I was to live there, with that family or one of the many like it, for a year, or three or five I would never understand completely because at the end of the day I will always have a choice.