when a good friend asked if i wanted to go out with a friend of hers who was in town who i knew nothing about besides he had facial hair, i said yes. because what else is a girl to do on a thursday night in nairobi but go on dates with random bearded strangers?
i had never done anything like this before and thought it might be fun and it was. i got a dozen roses (i didn't count so it was probably more like 17 because this is kenya and some things don't make sense) and picked up at precisely 8:45pm after i had to postpone the pick up time because, surprise, surprise, i was running late. the whole night was up to me because this dude was a proper gentleman so we ate sushi, drank red wine (which led to this morning's hangover), and listened to live music. we laughed a lot, which is always a good sign, and i was impressed with his knowledge of kiswahili and of the politics of africa, which made for great conversation.
but here is the part that i know my mom will tell her friends. this guy is a hunter. a professional hunter. like he gets paid to shoot things. with a gun. he tracks big cats, buffalo, elephant, hippo, and royal game and then kills them. which is rather fitting considering i just spend hours on the safari mobile in awe of these animals. or not fitting at all, depending on how you look at it.
first a neighbour, then a coup in guinea, and now a hunter.