Occasionally Robin and I like to provide mzungu amusement for the children in our neighborhood. We don’t exactly plan these events, but we always know they are happening a millisecond before everything gets chaotic. Case in point: last Saturday we pulled down to the end of our road to pick up Emily and Marissa and head to lunch. The car windows were down and we were ready to comfortably listen to music and wait for the girls to show up.
Then we were swarmed.
Kids ran towards us shrieking and laughing. They admired themselves in the side mirrors. They reached in and rolled the windows up on their own arms. They gave us snotty handshakes. They adjusted any vent they could reach. They sneezed on me.
Like any good mzungus Robin and I sat there, smiled, shook hands and only intervened when the side mirrors looked like they were about to snap off. The kids had ten minutes of adventuring with our car before wandering off…
Except for this little guy. His short legs and arms prevented any adventuring. He waited until everybody left and then rotated his pitiful peering from one window to the other. Poor guy.