we went to the Nakuru dump yesterday (i think). it was amazing. mounds of garbage everywhere. people live there; they collect and sort the garbage and make things to sell. a bunch of us JUMPers bought bags made of braided shopping bags. they're amazingly strong. i really have nothing to say. i've got some good pictures, but none of these internet cafes have new enough versions of photoshop to read .NEF raws, so i have no way to make JPEGs still. i could use a JUMPER's computer, but i keep forgetting. the upload speeds here are too slow to post anything with a fine resolution anyway. but i really like at least one of them. i can't wait to share.
the street hustlers are more persistent than any 'bolex' (knock-off rolexes) vendors in new york. they'll follow you, remember your face from day-to-day. they all have identical merchendise, but they all claim to have made it by hand. they seem to all be fluent in spanish. it's weird.
the projects seem to be going ok. everyone's got a story to tell (as Jack White might say). a lot of them are very sad.
and the glue sniffers roaming the streets are terrifying. they stumble around (eyes glazed over, movements sloppy), bottles in hand, and extend their fists to you, hoping for cash.
"one hundred.... one hundred"
how can you give them money, even if it's less than a buck fifty? and how can you justify giving them none?
lots of beggars, lots of hustlers, trying to make a buck. "Won't you buy this beautiful postcard? I drew it myself! I'm trying to pay for university!"