well THAT was interesting...

Some of my furniture pieces arrived tonight. Like I mentioned before, I try not to expect the end result to replicate what I asked for. No one likes disappointment. I had to stifle my laughter when they brought in my coffee table. THE FUNNIEST LOOKING COFFEE TABLE I HAVE EVER SEEN!

Except that's not the interesting part. My carpenter's right hand, Mark, brought in a piece of furniture with two helpers following. I held the front door as each one entered; each with even stronger alcohol on their breath than the first. I asked if they stopped at happy hour before delivering - and that's why they were over an hour late? They giggle. Grown men giggling tells you something. The two drunken helpers nicked out a piece of my wall as they moved the bed frame into the guest room. Thanks, guys! I watch as they start to assemble, they seem able. Though one man has an open oozing sore on his right hand the size of three quarters. I gasped (before I could catch myself). It was oozing puss and blood and looked purple and green. With bubbles. Kind of like an open boil. He didn't notice my gasp, probably because of the warm fuzzy feeling in his tummy.

I walk back into the living room to ask Mark to level out my very wobbly new furniture. He obliges. He's done this before with the first load. I am very picky - I like my furniture not to wobble away. :-) It's during this time he starts to tell me a story. His neighbor is a thief. A mob found him today and began throwing stones at him. They tied him up and started to kick. They then poured gasoline over his head. Preparing to burn him alive. In his own home. At 3:00 in the afternoon. His wife was screaming for them to stop. Mark was working next door in his workshop and heard the screaming. Him and his friend were able to convince the mob to not burn the thief alive, but to let them take him to the police. Mark gives me more background that the police here in Kenya are not always trusted to enforce justice. They don't do anything. He says when a thief is discovered, mobs kill them. It happened last week; it almost happened this afternoon. He said his neighbor, his friend, was very lucky today. But when the police release him in three days time, the mob will be back.

I don't know what to say. Pole.

I ask if there is a court of law in Kenya. Mark says yes, but without evidence, they will not try him. There is no evidence against his neighbor. Just an angry mob with a can of gasoline and a match.

I still don't know what to say. Pole sana.

Mark finishes leveling out my new shelves and side table. I test. It is steady. Doesn't move a millimeter (as Mark would say). I thank them, pay them, and wish them a good night.

I walk back through the house to inspect these new pieces. The mis-shapen crooked shelves are growing on me. They are solid. The console table that five minutes a go was solid, is now rocking. As is the funny looking coffee table (which by the way, doesn't come up to my knees). I guess an oval shape was a tad too much. It is oval, but it's not even. I will find myself a vase and cover it with beautiful flowers. Maybe no one will notice how funny it looks (until my couch arrives and it turns into a foot stool).

Hmmm.