Onward

Who was I?
Who am I?
How can they be the same person?
Who is fooling who?
Regardless, on to the next stop.
Like a slave to change.
Like an addict to novelty.
I did not anticipate this path to virtue to be a lonely one.
This path that doesn't trust me.
This path that's so ungrateful.
Am I on a fools errand?
I helped so few in Kenya.
Am I now running from danger or failure?
I'll never know.
Having no income has left a noticeable hole in my ego.
What kind of suitor am I with no income?
Perhaps my ego needed reengineering.
I just hope fate prefers tacos over fried plantains.

Last Night

Leading up to last night, I spent most of the day at home on the laptop, synthesizing my notes from research I've been doing here. I've been surveying the largest flea markets in Nairobi to better understand small shops. There are huge flea markets here; there's one, in the middle of a slum, with 10,000 stalls! Anyway, yesterday was one of the most exciting days working on my laptop I've had in a while, because things seem to be coming together for this idea I have to increase the income of poor shop owners - more on that in a later post. This put me in an exceedingly good mood. So when I got a call from someone I met while doing the research in a local market, asking me to meet him at a club, I figured "what the heck".

I left my place at 7pm and caught a local minibus, or "matatu", to town and met my new friend, Ebo, at the Samba Bar & Grill. The matatus are an interesting phenomenon. They are extremely numerous on the streets, as numerous as cabs in NYC. Most of them are basically VW buses fitted with rows of bench seats that pack in 14 passengers. When you get on, you have to crouch down like you're entering into a foxhole, and scoot to an available seat. Each matatu has its own personality. The one I took last night played reggae and had NBA posters on the interior walls and ceiling - the driver is apparently a Dallas Mavericks fan. It's 25 cents for a ride to town - can't beat that. A coke is also 25 cents here - wasn't a coke a quarter in the US like in the 1960's?

To set the stage, keep in mind when reading this story that it feels like everyone is staring at you, all the time. A feeling which is constantly reinforced when you look up and catch them. You don't see any white people all night; not in the clubs and not even in the street, despite there being a lot of people walking around and loitering. After staring at you, many of them try to say something to you. When walking, strangers say something to you about once every 10 seconds. They say "hey mzungu (white man)", or "How are you?", or "John" (as if all mzungus are named John), or something in their local language. So you walk fast to avoid the cat calls from turning into prolonged interactions, because if you don't, you will never get to your destination. It feels like your life is on stage and there is an audience watching your every movement. You feel famous, but not necessarily in a good way.

Continuing. I meet up with Ebo and another friend of his, Dalvyne. Turns out it was a reggae bar, as many are here. Or at least, it sounds like reggae, until you learn to recognize the African influence on the genre. We then push off to another club and dance for a while. Dalvyne needed to head home around 10pm so we walked her to the nearest matatu station. I say my goodbye quickly, but Ebo takes his time. All the while, people started spotting me, staring, and pointing. Then 4 guys suddenly approach me and start saying hello in random languages that are obviously not mine. One says "ni hao" and bows, the other says "konichiwa", and so on. Another comes and shakes my hand, but doesn't let go and says "Where do you go?" To put this in context, when I'm walking past a group of local men and they say something to me, sometimes it's not with the intention of actually talking to me, but rather to use me as a prop for an inside joke. This becomes obvious when they speak to me in a local language, which they would never expect me to speak. They say a few words, then they and their friends laugh - in these scenarios I try to keep moving. So I think this interaction at the matatu station was one of those moments. They also could have been the matatu helpers, in charge of recruiting passengers. Either way, it made me nervous because it was late, so I called on Ebo and we got the hell out of dodge.

While walking back to the original club, we spot another and decide to try it out based on the music pouring out the doors and into the street. We get in and the music is spot-on. Everyone is dancing, so we follow suit. The contagious vibe calms my nerves. At one point, during the climax of a great song, I break out my "most into it" move, and I actually hear people cheer around me at the same time. I think, "Wow, I must be really killing it if they are actually applauding my moves." I look up a few moments later to realize that there is a TV over my head, and people are watching a cricket game. They were not applauding my "most into it" dance move as my inflated expat ego assumed, they were applauding a cricket play - ego check.

As the night continued, I made an interesting cultural observations. I love these observations of unexpected and very different social phenomenon. For me, it's the dessert of traveling. This one was on the dance floor. As it turns out, Kenyan men dance together. And I don't mean like in the US when male friends dance near each other, I mean facing each other, locking eyes, wearing a big smile, and synchronizing their dance move. This is the way it goes down: one of them will tap the other, then enthusiastically show a dance move that is to become the theme of the interaction, then the enthusiasm will spread to the other and both will synchronize and repeat the dance move, over and over, sometimes for multiple songs, without talking. It looks like they're having the time of their lives. It actually looks like a great bonding exercise for friends. This, in the US, would surely be perceived as gay and therefore avoided, but the association doesn't exist here, even though, ironically, Kenyans are less tolerant to gays. Then, suddenly, a random guy approached me, tapped me on the shoulder, and signaled for me to follow his dance move of swinging arms. At which point I realized that this was not just an activity between buddies, this was also something you do with strangers. This happened multiple times to me throughout the night. It felt weird, but I had no choice but to play along. If I didn't mimic them they would give me this look of "Hey, what's your problem, man; you don't accept my offer to bond?" So I'd give in, but try to work my way out of it before the end of the song. I just couldn't follow through with it as enthusiastically as they do - maybe some day. I could just imagine assimilating to this tradition, then coming back to the US and doing it in a club and getting clocked.

Then a few strange things started to happen that brought me back to reality. Guys started bumping into me, often. But I couldn't figure out if it was happening to me more often than others, or if people were getting drunker and dancing more off-balance and I was just sensitive to it. Then the bartender refused to give me a napkin - weird. At that point I got worried I was in a "local club" where mzungus were not welcome. There were no mzungus in the club, but sometimes there aren't even mzungus in the "mzungu clubs", so it's impossible to know if I'm somewhere I don't belong. Some girls were giving me welcoming smiles, some were aggressively refusing to look at me and even running away from me, like I'm a leper. However, none of the men were shy about looking. Some gave me smiles and thumbs up, but a few gave me disapproving looks. Keep in mind that, like everyone else, I'm dancing, but to make things worse, my dance style is as foreign as my face. I sit down and suddenly a girl stops in front of me and takes a picture of me, without asking, which just added to the twilight zone moment I was experiencing. I felt like I could, for the first time, somewhat empathize with the poor when rich tourists ask to take pictures of them because their poverty makes for an interesting shot. If you notice, they are never excited at the prospect. I could have taken her picture of me as a compliment, but that night it just made me feel like more of a freak.

I guess this is my new identity. An identity that is never going to wash off, so long as I'm here. No matter how well I master the local language or how many local friends I make, I'm still going to look like me. People here will always react this way to me. It's going to take some getting used to.

Some Perspective

I met somebody that had quite an impact on me recently. I was talking to some shopkeepers in a local market when I met her. We started chatting and I introduced myself. She gave me her name, Chantal. Chantal, as I found out, is Rwandan, and appeared to be about my age. She said she's been in Nairobi for 5 years. I asked why she left Rwanda five years ago. She said because she could not stand to see the neighbor that murdered her mother and most of her family with a machete. She then proceeded to open up completely about the most horrifying story I've ever heard someone tell in the first person. I'll summarize.

In 1994 Chantal was nine years old and lived in Kigali, the Rwandan capital, with her parents and 10 siblings - all Tutsi. The day the genocide started, they were having a family reunion at her house. She recalls having fun playing with cousins. The fun was interrupted by chaos, machetes, and blood, as her neighbor broke in and attacked them. This neighbor was a close family friend, someone they had broken bread with on many occasions. Unfortunately the neighbor was also a rebel sympathizer and heeded the call of the rebels to exterminate the Tutsi's. Her father was the first to be killed. Followed by the majority of her siblings and extended family. And when I say killed, I'm not talking about a quick death. They were chopped to pieces, slowly and methodically (first hands, then feet, etc.). A few people were allowed to survive temporarily, to be used as slaves. Chantal and the few remaining siblings were kept hostage and made to sleep in the jungle, where it seemed to rain every night. They were even forced to eat food that had been soaked in the blood of their family. While dying, her mother told them to try to escape to their church, because she thought it would be a safe house. Chantal and a few siblings eventually made it to the church, where they found a lot of other survivors crammed in a small room. It's hard to imagine, but their luck went from bad to worse. The pastor turned out to be a rebel sympathizer and lead the death squads to church. The pastor opened the doors and the rebels poured in, slashing and raping. Chantal was hit in the back of the head with a machete and fell to the ground, a wound which gave her permanent hearing damage in one ear. While on the ground she was forced to watch a rebel raping her twin sister. However, her twin sister decided that she was not going to let herself be raped, only to be hacked to pieces afterward, so she reached for the raping rebel's grenade, pulled the pin, and blew herself up, taking the rapist with her. Chantal managed to make it out alive by playing dead, lying amongst the other dead bodies for days.

After the genocide ended, her and her two surviving siblings ended up in an orphanage. She spent the next decade just trying to survive. She went through a series of emotional states, including feeling numb to everyone and everything, not knowing if she would ever be able to love or be loved. She also resented the fact that she was never able to bury her parents; she thinks their bones might be at the Rwanda Genocide Museum. She eventually left Rwanda because everything reminded her of the genocide, causing crippling flashbacks. She couldn't deal with seeing the murderers on the street, people who were never punished. Her murderous neighbor has yet to even apologize, and has the gall to say "hello" when he sees her. She also said she doesn't think much of the US and the UN, because she saw them come to rescue their own and leave the locals to certain slaughter. As she puts it, "The white people even took their dogs with them, but no black people were allowed" - enough to make you sick to your stomach.

But since moving to Kenya, things have been improving for her. She found god, and is determined to forgive all those who committed the acts - something I'm pretty sure I could not do. She's also trying to tell her story to people, in an attempt to come to grips with it, which is why she requested I post it here. She writes poetry as an outlet and has a remarkably positive outlook. You would never know such a horror story would exist in the memory of such a warm person. She is one of those people that makes you happier to be around. I'm sure the experience left her with deep emotional scars, but you wouldn't know it when you're with her. She's taken what life gave her and is performing jiu jitsu on it.

My problems just became trivial.

Day 1

Today was Day 1 in Nairobi. First things first, I watched the last two episodes of Breaking Bad, which my safari caused me to miss. Probably wasn't the best planned sequence of events, but after watching two hours of drugs and murders, I went for my first stroll in Nairobi. Left the apartment, which I found on airbnb, and walked down Westlands Road, which is part of the Westlands neighborhood, also known as the expat neighborhood, and the target of the Westgate terror attack. There were a lot of people walking on the road, mostly wearing business casual, walking to a from work, I'm assuming. Interesting fact: in the USA there are 797 cars per 1000 people; in Kenya there are 24 cars per 1000 people. That's a huge difference. In that way it is much less polluted here because everyone takes public transportation, known as minibuses or "matatus". But the vehicles are not well maintained and spew out black diesel smoke, which which can make it hard to breathe sometimes on the street.

Every day in this country seems to be partly cloudy and perfect temperature. There is red dirt lining the sides of all the roads, as well as small shopkeepers and people selling food, like grilled corn, which is actually quite tasty. Everybody looks at me, usually for a few seconds. I thought there'd be more whites in the expat area, but not so much. This has a combined effect of making me feel more like a fish out of water, and makes the experience more interesting. Fortunately everyone seems nice, especially when I tell them why I'm here, that really opens them up and helps remove their mzungu sales pitch. "Mzungu" means white man in the local language. Funny enough, the literal definition of mzungu is "someone who roams around aimlessly", because the first whites in East Africa were explorers.

There are a lot of security forces walking around with AK47s, which is both reassuring and disconcerting, but I'm sure the same was true in NYC after 9/11. I went to the local mall today to get a cell phone, felt nervous the entire time, but that's where all the best shopping is so I decided to test the waters. I found myself unconsciously looking for unconventional places I would hide if I heard gunshots, like behind food on the shelf. I walked briskly. The plan is to lay low in the short term, both for my comfort and my mom's sanity, and ease my way into the city.

I talk to a lot of people when I am meandering. They always ask what I'm doing here, when I tell them I'm here to reduce poverty by increasing the income of the poor, the conversation naturally leads to their source of income. I'm surprised by how much a brief conversation seems to help them. Just some basic thoughts on business go a long way. I guess I forgot how a lot of business is not intuitive, especially in a developing country where most people's main concern is getting food on the table that day. Had a conversation with a lady today about her aspiration to open up a small bakery. I convinced her to start baking at home first and try to create sales from there, after which a brick and mortar store would carry less risk. Her eyes lit up with the plan. She immediately wanted to become friends. It's a great feeling to use my experience in this way. It taps into an emotion that didn't exist in my previous career - or ever, for that matter.

The Birthplace of Humanity

This picture makes Africa look like a horse bending down to drink some water. What would that indicate if this were a one of those psychoanalysis picture cards? Anyway, if it were a horse, I'll be living about where the eye would be: Nairobi, Kenya. I leave tomorrow and arrive Oct 2nd. First I'm off to Turkey and Rwanda with my mom. Then to start the next phase of my life. That makes it sound so dramatic, and a part of me is saying "you're way too old to be making these kinds of dramatic changes." But there's a louder voice saying "you are going to spend most of your life working, it's worth trying to mold a career around something you're passionate about; something you care about when money is removed from the equation." The latter voice has been obnoxious the last 6 months, as it led me to seriously question my career path, then quit, and now move to somewhere I never thought I'd want to move to: East Africa. I've been there once before, just passing through. On the surface it's a bit shocking; so much abject poverty. At a different time in my life, that would be a good reason NOT to go somewhere. But, as it turns out, that's exactly why I'm going there. Time to see if I can use some of my business skillz to put some dents in that social injustice.

Jesus Envy

Some recent events have caused me to ponder how I interact with morality. I've been reading a lot about Jesus lately, and I even went to church recently to refresh my understanding. I've been to church probably 10 times in my life, and I've probably listened to twice as many sermons, so the rhetoric is not new. But I would say that for the first time I'm pondering Jesus' moral teachings and their implications on life - specifically how believers use his teachings. I'm also reading a book called Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius. The book was written by him a long time ago, for himself, to be used as a reminder of the person he strived to be. What both Marcus and the followers of Jesus have in common is a clear idea of virtue and a constant reminder of how to achieve it. This does not exist in my life, and I wish it did. I think it would make me a better person; help me get closer to the person I want to be.

I used to watch religious people repeat scripture over and over, and in my mind I would categorize it as weird and cultish, and part of the indoctrination process that enables a religion to survive. Regardless, if that's true, it also gives them exactly what I am looking for, because interwoven into those pious verses are reminders of how to be virtuous. The words are there on the page, in black and white, to guide and remind believers. Even though I disagree with a lot of the words, I'm envious of the fact that they have this practice in their life, and they take it so seriously.

If I'm going to incorporate this practice into my life, first I need a clear idea of what I think is virtuous. Religious people get it from their holy books; Marcus wrote his own book. Secularist seem to get it from a mixture of places: parents, society, teachers, their "gut", etc. Me, I probably got most of my morals from these places, but I mostly apply them only when a situation arises, or retroactively when I made a mistake and feel bad or am trying to make amends. I make time to establish clear career goals, and think often of my romantic goals, but not my "virtue goals", even though they are probably the most important of all - how ironic. In order to clarify my virtue goals, I figured I'd review the famous moral teachings in history: religions and philosophers. So I took a sample of what came to mind for religions: Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Confucianism, Hinduism. Then I removed all the teachings that are purely pious and not applicable to a non-believer (e.g., Remember the sabbath day). Then I looked at a few non-religious writings: Marcus Aurelius, a few Greek philosophers, and the "Atheist Commandments" on a popular atheist site. Surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly, there is a lot of overlap. The religious morals tend to be more pithy, the philosophical more nuanced. To create my own list is an incredibly profound and important task that I feel like I'm not doing justice with this article. You would think they would have entire retreats for this, like they do for yoga, but I've never heard of one. Anyway, I guess I have to start somewhere, so here goes, my first crack, in no specific order:

1. DO be compassionate
2. DO be sympathetic
3. DO be merciful
4. DO be a peacemaker
5. DO be charitable
6. DO be humble
7. DO be positive
8. DO be grateful
9. DO be generous
10. DO be loyal to those you love
11. DO be courageous in the pursuit of truth
12. DO admit when you're wrong
13. DO love everyone
14. DO forgive all debtors
15. DO focus on the now
16. DO follow the golden rule
17. DO help your community
18. DO be shameful about wicked acts and make amends
19. DO nourish relationships
20. DO lead by example
21. DO seek first to understand, then to be understood
22. DO follow my passions
23. DO think win-win when working with others
24. DO always seek to learn something new
25. DO form independent opinions on the basis of your own reason and experience
26. DO always respect others who disagree with you
27. DO enjoy and explore sex in a safe way
28. DO NOT discriminate or oppress
29. DO NOT steal
30. DO NOT lie
31. DO NOT be a hypocrite
32. DO NOT be materialistic
33. DO NOT commit adultury
34. DO NOT judge
35. DO NOT seek retribution
36. DO NOT be suspicious
37. DO NOT engage in violence to any living thing
38. DO NOT worry about things you can't control
39. DO NOT betray someone's trust
40. DO NOT let failure cause you to lose faith in your aspirations
41. DO NOT let superfluous negative opinions affect you; opinions are human constructs
42. DO NOT forget that you will die one day; you only have one chance at life
43. DO NOT forget that every person is related to you; we are not that different from one another
44. DO NOT let negative emotions control you mind
45. DO NOT be ashamed to ask for help
46. DO NOT allow external evils to affect your internal happiness, realize they are separate
47. DO NOT engage in sexual misconduct
48. DO NOT overindulge in intoxicants
49. DO NOT be vain
50. DO NOT be selfish

And there it is. Fifty, neatly categorized into do's and do not's.

It's funny, some of these seem so basic that I bet you think you are beyond them, like "don't steal", for example. I know I did when I was writing it. But then I challenged myself and it turns out I'm not beyond it. Just yesterday I was trying to think of a way I could get the student discount with my Macbook purchase to save $100, even though I'm not a student. It doesn't have the same guilt associated with it as stealing from an old lady, but it's stealing nonetheless - and lying. Even the oldest virtues are as timeless as when they were first written, apparently. Needless to say, I paid full price after admitting to myself that I was in fact trying to steal.

This list is certainly not complete. Perhaps it will never be complete for me. Yes, I think I like it that way. Rather a continuous working document for the rest of my life. Something I can continuously read as a reminder, and improve upon as I go, like Marcus. He's become somewhat of an idol of mine, except for the fact that he persecuted the Christians in the 2nd century, definitely against multiple virtues listed above!

In the end, I only added a few that I didn't find in one of the sources I researched. It turns out that collectively they were quite comprehensive. This is the end of my post, but for reference, in case anyone is interested, I've listed all the virtues I found, by source, below.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jewish

- Honor your parents
- Don't kill
- Don't commit adultury
- Don't steal
- Don't lie
- Don't covet
- Do not hate

Christian

- Admit when you're wrong
- Be compassionate to all
- Be merciful to all
- Be a peacemaker
- Be sincere
- Love everyone
- Be charitable
- Be humble
- Be modest
- Forgive all debtors
- Focus on the now
- Follow the golden rule
- Do not be a hypocrite
- Do not be materialistic
- Do not commit adultery
- Do not judge
- Do not seek retribution
- Do not be suspicious

Marcus Aurelius

- Do not worry about things you can't control
- Do good for the community
- Realize that you are insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe
- Do not betray someone's trust
- Be shameful about wicked acts
- Do not hate
- Do not be suspicious
- Do not wish ill-will on others
- Do not be a hypocrite
- Do not do anything you wouldn't mind everyone knowing
- Do not sacrifice your morals, not even for the greater good
- Do not let failure cause you to lose faith in your aspirations
- Do not let negative opinions affect you by realizing that opinions are human constructs
- Do not forget that you will die one day; you only have once chance at life
- Do not lie
- Be positive
- Be grateful
- Do not overvalue anything; everything will end
- Do not forget that every person is related to you, and is less different from you than you think
- Do not let your emotions control you mind
- Do not be ashamed to ask for help
- Do not allow external evils to affect your internal happiness

Buddhist

- Be kind
- Be compassionate
- Be sympathetic
- Be calm
- Do not engage in sexual misconduct
- Do not take intoxicants
- Do not engage in violence to any living thing
- Show reverence
- Show humility
- Show gratitude
- Show patience
- Be generous

Confucius

- Tend to relationships
- Lead by example
- Be honest
- Be loyal to those close to you

Hindu

- Be selfless
- Be kind
- Be empathetic
- Be nonviolent
- Be courageous in the pursuit of truth

Islam

- Do not focus on material things
- Show humility
- Do not be vain
- Show moderation
- Do not be selfish
- Tell the truth
- Reunite friendship with those who have broken off from me
- Be generous
- Demand justice

Greeks

- Odinic Rite
- Courage
- Truth
- Honour
- Fidelity
- Discipline
- Hospitality
- Self Reliance
- Industriousness
- Perseverance

The Atheist Commandments

- Do not do to others what you would not want them to do to you.
- In all things, strive to cause no harm.
- Treat your fellow human beings, your fellow living things, and the world in general with love, honesty, faithfulness and respect.
- Do not overlook evil or shrink from administering justice, but always be ready to forgive wrongdoing freely admitted and honestly regretted.
- Live life with a sense of joy and wonder.
- Always seek to be learning something new.
- Test all things; always check your ideas against the facts, and be ready to discard even a cherished belief if it does not conform to them.
- Never seek to censor or cut yourself off from dissent; always respect the right of others to disagree with you.
- Form independent opinions on the basis of your own reason and experience; do not allow yourself to be led blindly by others.
- Question everything.
- Enjoy your own sex life (so long as it damages nobody else) and leave others to enjoy theirs in private whatever their inclinations, which are none of your business.
- Do not discriminate or oppress on the basis of sex, race or (as far as possible) species.
- Do not indoctrinate your children. Teach them how to think for themselves, how to evaluate evidence, and how to disagree with you.
- Value the future on a timescale longer than your own.
- Do not condemn people on the basis of their ethnicity or their color.
- Do not ever even think of using people as private property.
- Despise those who use violence or the threat of it in sexual relations.
- Hide your face and weep if you dare to harm a child.
- Do not condemn people for their inborn nature. ("Why would God create so many homosexuals, only to torture and destroy them?")
- Be aware that you, too, are an animal, and dependent on the web of nature. Try to think and act accordingly.
- Do not imagine you can avoid judgment if you rob people [by lying to them] rather than with a knife.
- Turn off that fucking cell phone.
- Denounce all jihadists and crusaders for what they are: psychopathic criminals with ugly delusions and terrible sexual repressions.
- Reject any faith if their commandments contradict any of the above.

Yuccanasia

Today I woke up around 1pm. Spent the usual 30 min browsing FB and the news in bed. Then got up and got dressed to experience the first meal of the day. Excited to go to the local Thai restaurant I hadn't visited in a week. I've established a relationship with the owners, which I don't think I've ever done. I guess I always thought of those relationships as relegated to TV shows, or other people. The owners are a couple and they have a half-Thai-half-white little girl that is adorable. The father is from Long Island. He and I seem very similar, personality wise. The mother is from northern Thailand. I don't know their whole back story yet, but I'm very curious. The most memorable thing about them is that they appear to be in love, based on their body language. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. Made me like both of them more. I guess I would assume that a couple with a 5 year old, that works together all the time, that comes from different cultures, and that has gone through the no doubt arduous process of opening and running a restaurant, would not be so in love; that the spark would have gone out by now. But they sneak kisses in while passing each other behind the Thai ice cream counter, and hug each other while watching their daughter play on her laptop. I tell myself that the fact that they are an inspiration to me does not bias my very positive review of their food, but it probably does.

So I step outside towards this restaurant and am immediately hit with the hot and humid weather. I play hopscotch with the shadows down the street and work my way towards their blue door. The door was closed, so I was looking forward to the air conditioned interior. I open the door and get a waft of urine. "Urine?" I thought. "Why urine?" I like this place to much to think of it as unclean. I try to power through it but it's not just the entrance, the entire restaurant smells like a subway platform. I look around and there are other patrons sitting and eating, seemingly oblivious. Another woman enters and I watch her closely to see if she makes any faces about the smell - nothing. I start a conversation with the Thai girls behind the register and ask "What's that smell?" "Oh yeah, I know it smells weird, it's because we cooked fermented bamboo." I say "Is that on the menu?" "No, we cook it for ourselves, it's a local dish. Why, what does it smell like?" First I didn't want to say, but she pulled it out of me. At that time my disgust turned to curiosity, but the fermented bamboo was not available to customers. So ordered my favorite spicy curry and lapped it up back at home.

After depositing a few checks, I stopped by the grocery store to grab a few raw roots to try. This requires a bit of explanation. I was vegan last year. An experience that heavily affected my perception of what's healthy. I'm off the wagon now, but always looking for more vegan/raw things to incorporate into my diet. I'd already been snacking on raw peeled jicama, a habit I picked up while in Mexico. Yesterday I tried raw peeled sweet potato and it was actually pretty good, tasted like carrot. So today I perused the fresh veggie section, looking for the weirdest looking roots I could find. I picked up a yucca and a normal potato. Got home and peeled the yucca first. Took a few bites. It was ok. Not much taste, really. A bit of a starchy/pasty after taste, but I had to reach for those adjectives. I think it had less taste than anything I've ever tasted, which is a strange and suspicious feeling. After a few more bites, I moved on to the potato. Having boiling these so many times growing up, I was extra curious. I bit off a piece and was surprised how juicy it was. They're so dry after boiling. This one was juicy like an apple; and crunchy, like an Asian pear. The taste was more starchy/pasty than the yucca. This one I clearly did not like - check. Then I set them both down and ate a few mangoes and came back to my laptop.

For some reason I started googling "eat raw yucca" and "eat raw potato". I was having visions of the scene in Into The Wild when he eats those seeds that end up being poisonous. First I searched for the yucca and immediately saw "Cassava [yucca] can never be eaten raw. Bitter, or wild, cassava contains enough acid so that it can be fatally poisonous if eaten raw or undercooked." Holy shit. This fear just went from being paranoia to serious. Then I do a few more quick searches, because I was in denial and didn't want to have to do the deed. All other googling produced the same result. Shit. Well, I can't let yucca be my undoing - that just sounds ridiculous. Although it would be a funny tombstone: "Yucca was his undoing". But, in all seriousness, it was time to pretend like I was bulimic. I haven't done this in, well, about 15 years, so far as I can remember, when I ate a steak that smelled funny. I'll spare you the details of what happened next. On second thought, no I won't. Let's just say that regurgitating spicy Thai, in a bathroom that reminds me of my college fraternity, was my lowest point in a few weeks. I just gained a whole new respect for eating disorders. For that to be better than digesting the food, wow.

Now I get to wait to see if my body absorbed anything. Symptoms are stomach aches, nausea, cramping, etc. What if this is it? What if I absorbed enough and these are the last few hours of my life? Obviously I don't think they are, otherwise I'd be high-tailing it to the hospital. But, hypothetically, if these were the last few hours of health, what would I do with them? What would you do with them? A few hours isn't much time. A few days or weeks can be planned out and maximized, but I can't even see friends in a few hours because they're working. Aside from calling loved ones to say goodbye, I guess I'd do exactly what I have been doing for the past month during my "break" from the workforce. I wake up whenever my eyes open, exercise, have a leisurely first meal, mess around on the internet for a few hours, which either involves reading/researching random stuff or writing in some form (e.g., long emails to friends, atheist-Christian websites debates), then I usually watch a documentary, then I'll read on my kindle, then I usually see friends or go on dates at night. I guess that is exactly what I would do if I could do anything, because I can do anything and that is what I have been doing. Although, that desire is not constant. It's been evolving. I've slowly been replacing "break" with "creations" the past week. Be it a painting, this blog, or whatever comes to mind (or whatever Jeannie proposes). I'm very much in a "why not?" state of mind right now. I look forward to the future - and I'm hungry again.