So on more than one occasion I've come home to kids waiting at my doorstep. What's peculiar is the fact that every time this happens, the number grows by one, and even more peculiar is the fact that every time they show up, it's always about to rain.
Today I came home exhausted, and as had been the case before, there were children at my doorstep. Being in no mood to entertain children (or anyone else for that matter), I greeted them in their native Luo and told them they should get home before it started raining. They just looked at me as if I were crazy. So I bid them farewell, told them to greet their mothers for me and headed inside. Ten minutes later, it started pouring rain! So I went outside to check and see if they were still there, and surely enough they were! (Dang!) I invited them in (although I was tempted not to) because had I not, my conscience would have eaten me alive.
So anyway, I start making small talk with them in Luo and to my surprise, they could actually understand me and I, in turn, could understand most of what they were saying. They found it both confusing and amusing that I could speak Luo but not Swahili (since Swahili is the national language and I clearly look like and must be a Kenyan).
In any case, they say when it comes to language, children are great teachers. I found a lot of truth in that today.
And despite my reluctance to entertain my spectators, it wasn't so bad. I don't know if I want to come home every day to a doorstep full of waiting children, but for today, not as bad as I thought it was going to be.