This morning Bart Murphy, sj, picked me up here to go for a bike ride. He explained to my friend Berger Hanson, a volunteer from Denmark here at the school who lives next to me, that it would be a short, easy ride because he is after all a 73-old with asthma.
It was a short ride – about half the ride he intended – because my back was so strained on the hills. And I confess to being a little winded, too (it’s a hilly route). It was in total only about 8 kilometres. It was in the village down the road that I decided to give up. I figured I’d wait for Bart to return, and I was content to do so. My red-faced, sore-backed self provided great entertainment for a group of men sitting under a nearby tree -- good-natured laughing at the mzungu.
It took me awhile to cool down once we returned. It was a time when turning on the water for the shower I did not think to myself, “I wish there were hot water.”
The other news is that after three weeks of letting my beard grow (it’s been seventeen years since I last had one), I shaved it off. Much better.
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