Exercise, Exorcise and Prison Breaks

Francoise and I went for a jog after work which had all the features of a run in Africa:
-gasping for air
-sweating buckets
-children running alongside
-wolf whistles and cheers from groups of bystanders

I especially liked the part where mke (wife) thought we should help a group push an overloaded cart of lumber up a rise for some additional cardio..it was hard. However, I think the people appreciated the push and my attempts to say I wanted to throw up from the effort in Swahili.

Ominously, someone must have seen us out running because that night there was a furious banging on the gate. A woman (with someone else furtively hiding with her) was asking our boss (who lives in the house adjacent us) to open the gate so she could discuss 'her problems' (I assume financial) with the 'wazungu'. The boss told her to go away. Creepy. Then 5 minutes later we heard shouting and screaming next door so we knocked on the boss' door to find out what was happening. Apparently, it was a religious ceremony/exorcism. I didn't sleep very well last night...

The next day, Friday I wanted a haircut so got a ride from a guy at the office to a hair salon. The barber and I started to have heated exchanges when I asked for 'Number One all over mate'. He looked disgusted, said it would not suit my face 'Mate I been clipping my hair that way for years' I stopped arguing when he started using a straight razor at places you would not want a straight razor to twitch. Actually, my cut was not too bad in the end. The barber was nice even if he kept asking/hinting if I wanted to visit arab countries...

On the drive back to the Office, (past a crowded trial at the local courthouse of some uber violent kenyans who shot up a local bank and killed a guard)the driver said he needed to make a quick detour. He then asked if I got afraid easily. 'Er...no?' I said. Off to prison.

We drove past machine gun toting guards and guard towers into Magereza Maximum Security Prison so the driver could discuss something with the Prison Commander. I came out with him and sat meekly by as guards walked past waving their batons around. The prison has existed since colonial times and is surrounded by German style cottages (now used for the staff). The driver just laughed at me when I asked how long I would last if I started walking in the yard in my work duds and new haircut.

I hope Franatee and my dinner tonight with some friends at an Indian restaurant is less surreal than the last while has been.