The Malcontent

Kenya Take Me Home Now?

I'm now back in New York, via Bujumbura, Nairobi and London.

My luggage, however, is not, and British Airways seems unable to tell me if it is in one of those locations or in the air between any given two of them.  Oh, well, at least I enjoyed the clotted cream in-flight.  The very idea of it had always sounded disgusting to me, but it was sheer bliss.

Three cheers to Robbie for doing a fine job of flying solo!

I don't think I have the mental capacity to share a lot of stories (not that there are any) or photos (there are several of those), but for right now I'm going to leave you with only one, and it's a bit of a downer.

I had the opportunity to make a quick trip to the Genocide Memorial in Kigali, Rwanda, and I learned much more about that terrible event in that short time than I had known before.  (In all seriousness, it's hard to overstate how deeply affected I was, and how I feel even guiltier now as an American regarding our own inaction and that of the world community.  Oh, and it gave me fresh, new reasons to detest the French for their central role in enabling the genocide to occur in the first place.  All things that I had not known before.)

The picture below shows just a few of the actual victims among the roughly 1 million who died between April and July 1994 in Rwanda.

"The African Queen," or "Welcome to the Hotel Rwanda"

It has been immensely hard to get cell reception in the parts of Africa in which I have been traveling, let alone reliable Web access, so while I have been silent, I have been thinking a lot about the Malcommunity.

I never thought in a million years that I would ever utter the words, "Thank God I am in Rwanda," but it is true.  I had been in the Congo (DRC) since Saturday and couldn't even get GSM on my phone until Monday, but no Internet access until I got to Kigali, Rwanda, last night.

I drove right past the Hotel des Mille Collines, which was the actual "Hotel Rwanda" depicted in the movie, but not the one that they filmed.  But I am staying in the Intercontinental, which is a fabulous hotel not just by African standards, but by any standard.

By the way, the picture at right is the actual African Queen, which was also depicted in a famous movie, built by the Germans around the time of World War I.  (My Web access is too tenuous to Google the correct details.)  It is now used, however, to transport returning Congolese refugees back across Lake Tanganyika from Tanzania.

Anti-malarials, even the mildest of the bunch, are well-known for side effects that are, shall we say, borderline psychotic.  Of course The Malcontent would choose Malarone.

The other night, the dreams began.  They came fast and furious.  And they could probably be easily summed up, at least in the first night, thusly: I was naked in about 90 percent of them and having sex in about 50 percent.

The piece de resistance was sex with Madonna.  (She likes to be on top, boys.  Big surprise there.)  Of course, mid-coitus she walked out on me out of fear that she was ruining her career.  Who can blame her?

I had sex solo, in pairs, in groups, with men and with women.  With exes and with my husband.  At one point I was walking naked down the street and I offered myself up to a passing pickup truck full of men, who were all too happy to oblige me.

I was back together with friends and exes from high school, having sex with many of them, when my life was suddenly transformed into an episode of "Melrose Place."  Literally.  Every little plot twist was attended by needless drama, catfights and cliff-hangers.  I was even certain that I could see the end credits suspend before me in midair.

Then I was sitting at the dinner table in my home where I grew up in Wyoming.  My father did one one of the many things he does to irritate me, and I responded by throwing a small cup of Italian dressing in his face, which precipitated quite a row.  Fortunately, there was no sex involved here.

Sorry to be so brief, but this trip has been one of the most rushed, hectic and stressful I have ever been on.  The "work day" has sometimes started at 6 a.m. and ended at 11 p.m., and I am just now getting over my jetlag, so you can only imagine the state I am in.  But I will be back in New York on Friday morning.

I'll try to post again before then ...

The Minister and the Media

Everyone seems a bit up in arms about the recent appointment by President Bush of the Rev. Herbert H. Lusk II to a position on the Presidential Advisory Council on HIV/AIDS. Whereas the other appointments to the panel seem almost uncharacteristically appropriate, I thought I'd poke and prod around a bit to figure out who the minister with close ties to Focus on the Family and the Family Research Council is. Upfront, the man is fairly hostile to us mo's. However, gay media are once again being brutally dishonest to their readers.

Apologies

I am heading out the door for a week in Africa.  I apologize for the relatively light blogging lately on my end, but it's because I have been preparing for this trip.  (And a couple of weeks after I get back, I will be off to Cologne, Germany, for several days, but because I will be flying Lufthansa, I might actually be able to blog from the plane.  We Westerners are so lucky!)

I will be in many places next week where I will be lucky enough to get a dialtone, let alone WiFi, so I imagine next week's blogging will be even sparser from me.  Robbie will be shouldering the load (hee hee), but I will try to check in from time to time if I can.

As Jerry Springer says, "Until next time, be good to yourself, and to each other."