I had my fingers crossed all the way into work on the matatu this morning, thinking, "People in Boston are either really really happy right now, or really really not." As soon as I got in, I opened my computer and saw Kobe's smug little mug on ESPN's home page and said, aloud, "Ah, NO!"
I got some sympathy from the small group of people who work in or next to the archive room who I'm becoming pretty friendly with. Once they discovered that I speak a little Swahili, they were pretty stoked, and they've been speaking it with me more and more. It's good to practice - I was really, really rusty.
There's David, who's obsessed with rugby and constantly Twittering about sports from his BlackBerry; there's Wanjiru (her first name is Becky, but everyone calls her Wanjiru), a photo editor who's really talkative and hilarious; there's Abdul, who was Mohamed Amin's sound man back in the day and who is unexpectedly funny under his grave demeanor; there's Zaidi, a quiet, older man who spends most of his time sorting through slides of old pictures; and there's Moses, a goofy guy who is constantly telling me Wanjiru is his girlfriend, eliciting only eye rolls from the would-be object of his affections.
Beautiful Wanjiru!
Photo evidence for the eventual lawsuit.
Moses being Moses. Abdul is not sure what is going on here. Neither am I.
Coming to work has gotten better and better as I've started joking around with these guys. Yay friends!
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