More Than You Want to Know

I love getting rejection letters while vomiting in a guesthouse bathroom. It’s actually my favorite pastime. Which is lucky because that is what I’m doing right now.

I recently applied for a grant for my school to build a kitchen. However, I am just finding out now that it is a no-go for one of several possible reasons that were kindly disclosed in the letter. So, I feel like a slight failure right now, but alls well. I’ll figure something out. Although I’m not sure what yet. Give me a minute to sulk.

I also am apparently ill, as is indicated by things you don’t want to know about. I must’ve looked really pretty this morning after a night of strugglin’ (Remember, folks. I don’t have a toilet or running water in my house.) because my principal sent me into Opuwo to see the doctor.

Waited for the doctor. Four hours later, saw the doctor. Was given medicine and electrolytes. Funnily enough, electrolyte packets also make me physically ill. Fun.

Principal picked me up and dropped me off at the guesthouse. And here I be.

Recently, Ashley and I started renting a flat in Opuwo to save money when we come in on weekends. The guesthouse is nice, but gets pricey. Unfortunately, we were only given one key to the flat. And as Ashley’s place of residence is approximately 1½ hours outside of Opuwo, and she has the key, the guesthouse is my new temporary home. To throw up in peace. How nice.

By the end of this year, the doctor and the pharmacist are going to know more intimate details about me than anyone else in the world. Which is a little awkward considering the fact that me and my group of friends hang out with both of them.

Imagine sharing a drink with someone you’ve only known a few months, yet knows you are at that second having extraordinary problems with your digestive tract. Don’t even think about gracefully excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. They know what you are doing.

Sadly, this doesn’t bother me anymore. As far as I can tell, the word privacy doesn’t exist in this corner of the world. Of course, many other nice words exist. Like sharing and compassion and tradition and whatnot. Privacy, though. No. For instance, public urination. Obviously not a public offense, considering the policemen do it as well. I could give you so many more examples. But I have to go be sick.

Post being ill thought: I know I rarely write legitimate blog posts about my life here and what I'm doing. So to avoid more poop talk, you are welcome to leave a suggestion for something you want to hear about. Comment here, email me, Facebook me. Your choice. Otherwise, I will keep talking nonsense, as I'm prone to do.