An English In Kentucky


















May 31st 2011    Tim Candler

    When I was little I never liked to wear a shirt.  Okanya on the other hand would sometimes wear a shirt that would reach down to his tummy button.  We both had to wear shorts because neither of us where Karamojong.   Sometimes my own elders would direct me to put on a shirt for the purpose of traveling in a vehicle or visiting others.

    Okanya's grandfather wore a robe that hung from his neck, and whenever he left his cattle to visit his daughter, she would scold him for his disreputable appearance and she would force him to put on the very smart pair of trousers she kept under her bed.  

     Now that I am old, I wear shirts with long sleeves. I wear gloves with the fingers cut out of them.  I wear an enormous hat.  And I do this because the generations of pink, blotchy people originated somewhere close to the Arctic Circle.  Which is fine for those who had the good fortune to inherit a tolerance for cold.

     When I was little I don't believe heat and sun bothered me in the least.  And sometimes I start to think that somewhere along the course of my life I woke up in someone else's body.  He can't see, he doesn't like cold.  Heat and high sun turns him  into a puddle of ghee.  And he spends most of his active time hunting for things he has lost.

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