Acclimatized and Traumatized

I fully expect the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to come galloping through the newsroom at any moment. That's because I'm sitting here in Nairobi on a Tuesday afternoon in July wearing a sweater, and pants, and socks, and I am actually shivering.

And no, dear smart-assed readers, it's NOT from symptoms of Swine flu, or my usual "Hormonal Hijinks." And it sure as hell ain't from air conditioning on blast, because last month I thought I would suffocate from the airless, hot atmosphere in the building. No, I'm sitting here blowing on my fingers and wishing I was home wrapped in a blanket because Old Man Winter has decided to "BRING IT" to Nairobi this week.

Now, I don't mind chilly. In fact, given the vicissitudes of my hormonal shifts, chilly is absolutely perfect weather for me. But yesterday and today have been downright cold. I'm talking "oatmeal with cinnamon, raisins and brown sugar" cold, which I would eat if I had any. It's the kind of cold where you huddle under the covers exploring all the "lies, damned lies and obfuscations" you can use to explain why you weren't able to get to the office today. It's the kind of cold where you wonder if an extra squirt of perfume will hide the fact that you avoided getting into a hot shower that morning, because it meant you'd have to exit said shower back out into the cold air.

For reals, y'all, I am cold and pissed. I feel so freakin' cheated! Clearly, one of the unspoken side benefits of moving to Sub-Saharan Africa is access to year-round temperate weather. Sure, it's gonna be hot as Satan's Buttcrack during summer months, but at least you can walk around in shorts and tank tops, while smugly envisioning your friends and family back in the States rockin' parkas and scarves on snowy, sub freezing mornings.

I totally never expected to find myself vulnerable to derision for freezing my tushie off in July! And I'm also eating crow for thinking my African brothers and sisters were kinda wimpy for walking around in coats during their "so-called winter." Cuz right about now, I could jack a sucka for their coat, I SWEAR I ain't lyin'.

Oh, here's yet another reason I'm awaiting the dawn of Armageddon. Between the cold weather and the burst of activity lately in the Fellowship, I occasionally find my mind wandering back to the relative peace, calm and tranquility of life in........GULU. Sure, I was hungry all the time, and lizards were my only companions, and you only had electricity and Internet 3 days a week, and, well, it was A FUCKING POST WAR ZONE. But when things start to get really crazy busy in mad-cap Nai-robbery, it's nice to remember a time when your most complicated decision was if you would have scrawny-assed chicken or scrawny-assed fish with your scrawny-assed chips.

Oh well, don't mind me. (Brrrrrrrrrr.) But please, somebody send me a Snuggie! Preferably one made of Kente cloth, adorned with Maasai beadwork. But I'm not particular, or anything.