This crazy bum almost through his feces on me. His. Feces. I didn't even know they had attacking bums in Nairobi.
But I was walking down the street, minding my own, when I my eyes accidently glanced across this guy's crazy eyes. Bloodshot and loony. I ignored it, until I noticed that the guy walking next to me kept checking behind him. So then I looked back, and realized Mr. Psycho Peepers was trailing us.
I yelled at him, and he stopped. He was afraid of the attention of the mass of people on the street.
Me and the other guy walked on, taking turns looking behind our back. "I was afraid he wanted my bag," he said. Understandably: he was modestly dressed, but he had a nice new nylon satchel over his shoulder.
"I think he was after me," I said.
"You have to be careful. They hit you with their fez."
"Their what?"
"Their fezzez. The fezzes from their own bodies."
"Their feces?"
"Yes. And then they rob you, and you can't get home because no one will let you on the bus."
Do you have any idea how bad my day almost became?
Anyways, waiting for an email which will tell me if my next plane will be to Chad or to home. Everyone pick one and cross your fingers.
