I love the drive back from the beach to Stonetown (we just spend the weekend at Kendwa beach resort). The drive is only about an hour and it's the best if you do it an hour before sunset so you have that perfect soft golden light touching everything as you wind your way past the villages to town. Today in particular it is beautiful because it's raining but the sun is still shining and the sky is clear. There is a perfect rainbow arching over us as we weave along the road; both ends disappearing into a jungle of dense palms far off in the distance. A few small children, about six years old, are walking in a line down the road. They are using giant palm leaves, as big as they are, like umbrellas in a futile attempt to keep dry. They are totally drenched! I saw them earlier this morning playing in a field. Same palm leaves to sheild themselves. Still soaking wet!
The steet is busy, people are walking and bicycling in every direction. Going to mosque or coming home from a visit with family or from work. I have no idea. Two boys sit on the back of a makeshift wagon with one wheel which is being pulled by a donkey. They look incredibly amused with themselves and have an empty cart. Likely they are finally on the way home after a long day of delivering firewood or fruit. Or something.
Back in Stonetown we are treated like the tourists we appear to be, despite the fact that everyone I am with lives and works on the island. The colour of our skin makes us a constant target. They have surrounded our car as we get out and are trying to sell us spices, cd's and necklaces. "Crack-pot Harry" is trying to sell us a Christmas card. It's the only thing he has. I laugh to myself wondering where on earth he picked it up and again at how funny it is that he is trying to peddle 'Seasons Greetings' in the middle of April on the predominantly Muslim island of Zanzibar. (In hindsight, perhaps I should have bought it). In any case, I am soaking wet and still covered in sand from our day at the beach and look a bit out of place standing in the middle of town while Mardia haggles our taxi rate for the day.
The 'other' local crazy decides to follow us as we find our way home and is temporarily thrown off his plan of action when we split into two groups heading in different directions. He's mumbling incoherent Kiswahili to us but decides to follow Katie and I. We loose him moments later as we (while laughing) kick it up a notch and start into a sprint and dodge around a few corners and through alley ways to find our street where we live. He's totally harmless but there is no need for him to know where we live. That's the thing about Stonetown though. After a few days here they know who you are, where you stay, if you have a nice camera and laptop and what your daily routine is. It's a little bit unnerving at times, but if you're smart you should be fine.
I am home now to pack because tomorrow I'm heading to Mwanza to visit the children. I can't wait to see them but I still have some weirdness about the fact that this time I'll be there without Denise! It's ridiculous that I'm actually craving Kuliana's pizza and rolls just as much as the roasted corn and rice and beans that I can get in Buswelu Corner for pennies. I will have to hold out on the mendozi with chocolate bars and sugar dip because (as tempting as it is) it just isn't right without Denise, Suzy and Jessica to ease my indulgant guilt!!!
My first two weeks back in Africa have been really, really (I stress again the really part) relaxing. I spent my first week trying to adjust to the time difference, the heat and the noise. Getting my travel legs back I guess. Unfortunately, my second week was spent sick which threw me for a loop! I'm used to having more of an iron stomach from all of the travelling but I guess it's not as tough as I thought it was!
5.15.2008
Ma-hm-bo Vi-eh-phi Ra-h-mboo!
I am staying with a Muslim family in an apartment somewhere in the midst of the maze that is Stonetown. I have a 'self-contained' apartment on the top floor (there is not technically what I would consider a real door seperating me from the family but I don't think they go to the upstairs part). There are two bedrooms, a massive living room, great kitchen space (a fridge!) and a flush toilet. Cold water showers only but it's 25 degrees with 100% humidity. Who needs hot water! I have been covered in sweat since arriving but I really don't care. It feels good, familiar. $100 per month.
Sleeping peacefully in the mornings is presenting itself a challenge and I usually find myself with my head wrapped up in my sweatshirt to try and block out the noises for just a few more minutes of peace. The first call to prayer begins at about 5am. I love the haunted, eery sound of it. I try and sleep a few more hours but people start walking past my window and the noise gradually increases to a maddening choas of voices and customary greetings as people pass each other and start their days. A motorbike screetches to a stop narrowly missing an older woman as she shuffles through the streets and two men compete (every morning) to win the title of 'loudest bicycle bell'. Men and boys of every age sit together looking bored, contemplating life. Children scream and laugh and chase each other through the streets and I give up and drag myself into the shower. First thought.. coffee.
I walk down the two flights of stairs to the street (wearing a scarf to cover my shoulders) and rip it off and stick it in my bag the second I get out of the house. I'm already sweating and I know I should keep it on but ug..the heat. I wind my way through the narrow cobblestone streets greeting the artists and shop keepers who are trying to convince me to come in to their shop. I love you, please will you be my friendy, where are you from. You are never anonymous in Africa.
Sitting in Livingstones (sipping on coffee) and the place is literally deserted..it is the rainy season so tourism is low. I feel like (if I was a writer) this would be the place I would haunt. Insufferable humidity made (only the slightest bit) easier by rickety cieling fans. Dramatic skies threatening thundershowers, a view of the ocean and the cargo ships unloading potato sack after potoato sack (how can this tiny island possible need this many potatoes?). A fifty (plus) woman does her best to hide her age behind sunglasses that practically cover her entire head, wearing touristy clothes that are just a bit too young and (intentionally) too tight. She swings to the music while paying the bill. The twenty-five year old beach boy accompanying her does his best to look amused and treats her like she is the most beautiful woman in the world (bored to tears when she's not looking). The life of a beach boy, made easier by a European woman twice his age on a two week holiday with cash to burn. Can't really blame him.
Mardia tells me I look 'cleaner' than last time I was here. I'm not sure what that means exactly (Mardia is known for speaking her mind) but I do assume it's a good thing. I do have the same daily shower thing that I did last time I was here (even sometimes twice - I swear! In fact, Denise was the one who loved to revel in her own filth for days and brag about how long she'd gone without a dribble of water to clean herself - hahah!!). It must be the clean fingernails and manicured toes that are throwing her off.
We are spending today at the 'sandbank'. Literally, it is a mile long stetch of sand that is only visible during low tide. There is nothing on it.. only birds. It's a twenty minute boat ride from the town and we are the only people there. Snorkeling and suntanning. Tough life this is..
Sleeping peacefully in the mornings is presenting itself a challenge and I usually find myself with my head wrapped up in my sweatshirt to try and block out the noises for just a few more minutes of peace. The first call to prayer begins at about 5am. I love the haunted, eery sound of it. I try and sleep a few more hours but people start walking past my window and the noise gradually increases to a maddening choas of voices and customary greetings as people pass each other and start their days. A motorbike screetches to a stop narrowly missing an older woman as she shuffles through the streets and two men compete (every morning) to win the title of 'loudest bicycle bell'. Men and boys of every age sit together looking bored, contemplating life. Children scream and laugh and chase each other through the streets and I give up and drag myself into the shower. First thought.. coffee.
I walk down the two flights of stairs to the street (wearing a scarf to cover my shoulders) and rip it off and stick it in my bag the second I get out of the house. I'm already sweating and I know I should keep it on but ug..the heat. I wind my way through the narrow cobblestone streets greeting the artists and shop keepers who are trying to convince me to come in to their shop. I love you, please will you be my friendy, where are you from. You are never anonymous in Africa.
Sitting in Livingstones (sipping on coffee) and the place is literally deserted..it is the rainy season so tourism is low. I feel like (if I was a writer) this would be the place I would haunt. Insufferable humidity made (only the slightest bit) easier by rickety cieling fans. Dramatic skies threatening thundershowers, a view of the ocean and the cargo ships unloading potato sack after potoato sack (how can this tiny island possible need this many potatoes?). A fifty (plus) woman does her best to hide her age behind sunglasses that practically cover her entire head, wearing touristy clothes that are just a bit too young and (intentionally) too tight. She swings to the music while paying the bill. The twenty-five year old beach boy accompanying her does his best to look amused and treats her like she is the most beautiful woman in the world (bored to tears when she's not looking). The life of a beach boy, made easier by a European woman twice his age on a two week holiday with cash to burn. Can't really blame him.
Mardia tells me I look 'cleaner' than last time I was here. I'm not sure what that means exactly (Mardia is known for speaking her mind) but I do assume it's a good thing. I do have the same daily shower thing that I did last time I was here (even sometimes twice - I swear! In fact, Denise was the one who loved to revel in her own filth for days and brag about how long she'd gone without a dribble of water to clean herself - hahah!!). It must be the clean fingernails and manicured toes that are throwing her off.
We are spending today at the 'sandbank'. Literally, it is a mile long stetch of sand that is only visible during low tide. There is nothing on it.. only birds. It's a twenty minute boat ride from the town and we are the only people there. Snorkeling and suntanning. Tough life this is..
1.07.2008
Footloose
If you've spent (perhaps) too much time with me (usually at Crego) you will eventually realize that I think Footloose is the best song EVER. Like ever ever.
Here's why (only the funniest episode of Will and Grace to exist):
http://youtube.com/watch?v=pi4U1u4LSdY
I still think it kicks butt as a Kings option ...
Here's why (only the funniest episode of Will and Grace to exist):
http://youtube.com/watch?v=pi4U1u4LSdY
I still think it kicks butt as a Kings option ...
10.17.2007
Conclusions
I am at the computer in the den of my sisters new townhouse wearing Jess's clothes, eating a bowl of homemade chili (by request of course) and I'm uploading pictures, doing laundry, shopping on line to buy a new laptop, organizing 'stuff', airing out my backpack, drinking coffee (instant just for the memories of Africafe) and haven't showered since Zanzibar (again, for the memories of being a former dirty backpacker). I keep talking to the dogs in Kiswahili by mistake.
We arrived last night at about 10pm after 22 hours of flying. It was the most luxurious traveling on the entire trip. People complained we smelled (I suspect this is what happened) and we had two seats each for all three flights. I watched 8 movies, ate 12 meals (including all the desserts), slept like a baby and made a stop in Boots to stock up on favorite products followed by a stint of slathering myself with the most expensive eye cream / face cream / anti-wrinkle / anti-aging / uplifting / tightening and toning free samples I could find. I am now 3.2 years younger.
We left Dar at 5.30am and the horizon was a bright red-orange glow as the sun started to rise so that it literally looked like the sky was on fire. Just as we flew over Kili (the same time that the crazies who are climbing it would get to the top) a bright neon pink sun appeared (and we giggled knowing how terrible the people who are watching the same sunrise, but are at the top of Kili, are feeling because they are cold, starving and have altitude sickness. Maybe they even had to take a poop on the top in front of many strangers - it happens). In any case, we had our noses glued to the window so we could take it all in because the view was absolutely breathtaking and a fantastic final image of Africa.
Denise and I were top form delirious for the entire time we weren't asleep (possibly cause of all the desserts) and therefore giggling like kids and doing dumb things like talking with sock puppet hands. "Look!! AN!! British people!" as we boarded our BA flight in Nairobi - yup, just the 'two of us' could not hear the announcement; "Anyone who is currently already using their headphones please refrain from doing so until after takeoff" due to the simple fact that we had our blinkers on our eyes. If you're confused you are supposed to be (I admit I am also).. let's move on.
Flying in to Heathrow in London was completely bizarre because after spending 10 months in the chaos of infrastructure that is the third world the picture perfect Thomas the Tank engine villages and winding roads with colourful cars looked... fake and impossible. I'd never really noticed before. However, and despite appearances, my world suddenly felt really hectic and fast paced and I was kind of overwhelmed by the people who push by in a hurry and then run over Denise with their suitcase, don't take a second to apologize and avoid eye contact cause you might have some sort of communicable disease (actually Denise does have a disease but it doesn't really count).
There are a million things I know now that I didn't know before. About myself, the world, different cultures. For example, I realize that I look really terrible in most shades of green and that the majority of food items begin with the letter "P". (I can almost guarantee that nobody else - but D and I - have laid in our middle of nowhere guest house and named all the foods we can think of going through each and every letter of the alphabet. If you're ever bored try it.. see if you can actually get to P. That's more the challenge right there my friends..). I know that bananas are the most versatile food in the entire world and I now consider myself kind of a connoisseur (the red ones and/or Moshie bananas are the bestest). Here is a list of all the things (I can think of and ate on the trip) that involve banana: banana milk shake, banana pancake/crepe, fried bananas, banana soup, banana split, banana&avocado sandwich, banana fritter with chocolate, banana smoothie, banana pizza, roasted banana, banana with muesli&yogurt, banana chips, banana in coconut sauce. I think that is it. I also know things like high altitudes make people very gas-o-liscious, there is someone in every country that looks like Morgan Freeman, chocolate tastes best first thing in the morning while you are still in bed, sunsets are better in Africa (especially if they involve a beer and a hammock and a box of Pringles) and climbing mountains is dumb. Seriously though, I really am taking a lot with me from this trip (but I will charge for my knowledge - by the hour). My memories right now are a bit foggy due to experience overload and I expect I will keep learning from my trip for a long time to come. It's definitely helped to shape my perspective on the world, including what I want for my life and I saw things that made me smile that I will never forgot and of course things I wish I didn't because they make you sad and you start realizing the world can be terribly cruel.
One of my best memories is sitting on a bus in India with a little girl (she couldn't have been more than four and she was what they would consider an 'untouchable', which basically means she is of the lowest class in Indian society and likely won't have the opportunity to amount to very much). She was sitting behind me with her parents and baby brother, wearing only a t-shirt. She probably hadn't bathed in a week because she was filthy. I decided to share my iPod headphones with her and we rocked out to Western music for a good hour until they got off of the bus. I won't forget her smile or the fact that the family waved goodbye with big grins until I couldn't see them anymore. I do have a million and a half memories like that.. but for some reason that one has always stood out the most in my memory.
Finally, I couldn't have asked for a better travel compadre (as we said many times, our friendship is a low risk business agreement and therefore there was no pressure). I would definitely do it all again in a heartbeat, maybe even the Kili part. We had a hell of a lot of fun, we should have wrote down more of the ridiculous things we giggled about (cause there were so many) and we should have ate more (kidding!). I doubt that is even possible! It was pretty friggin fantastic though, wasn't it ;)
We arrived last night at about 10pm after 22 hours of flying. It was the most luxurious traveling on the entire trip. People complained we smelled (I suspect this is what happened) and we had two seats each for all three flights. I watched 8 movies, ate 12 meals (including all the desserts), slept like a baby and made a stop in Boots to stock up on favorite products followed by a stint of slathering myself with the most expensive eye cream / face cream / anti-wrinkle / anti-aging / uplifting / tightening and toning free samples I could find. I am now 3.2 years younger.
We left Dar at 5.30am and the horizon was a bright red-orange glow as the sun started to rise so that it literally looked like the sky was on fire. Just as we flew over Kili (the same time that the crazies who are climbing it would get to the top) a bright neon pink sun appeared (and we giggled knowing how terrible the people who are watching the same sunrise, but are at the top of Kili, are feeling because they are cold, starving and have altitude sickness. Maybe they even had to take a poop on the top in front of many strangers - it happens). In any case, we had our noses glued to the window so we could take it all in because the view was absolutely breathtaking and a fantastic final image of Africa.
Denise and I were top form delirious for the entire time we weren't asleep (possibly cause of all the desserts) and therefore giggling like kids and doing dumb things like talking with sock puppet hands. "Look!! AN!! British people!" as we boarded our BA flight in Nairobi - yup, just the 'two of us' could not hear the announcement; "Anyone who is currently already using their headphones please refrain from doing so until after takeoff" due to the simple fact that we had our blinkers on our eyes. If you're confused you are supposed to be (I admit I am also).. let's move on.
Flying in to Heathrow in London was completely bizarre because after spending 10 months in the chaos of infrastructure that is the third world the picture perfect Thomas the Tank engine villages and winding roads with colourful cars looked... fake and impossible. I'd never really noticed before. However, and despite appearances, my world suddenly felt really hectic and fast paced and I was kind of overwhelmed by the people who push by in a hurry and then run over Denise with their suitcase, don't take a second to apologize and avoid eye contact cause you might have some sort of communicable disease (actually Denise does have a disease but it doesn't really count).
There are a million things I know now that I didn't know before. About myself, the world, different cultures. For example, I realize that I look really terrible in most shades of green and that the majority of food items begin with the letter "P". (I can almost guarantee that nobody else - but D and I - have laid in our middle of nowhere guest house and named all the foods we can think of going through each and every letter of the alphabet. If you're ever bored try it.. see if you can actually get to P. That's more the challenge right there my friends..). I know that bananas are the most versatile food in the entire world and I now consider myself kind of a connoisseur (the red ones and/or Moshie bananas are the bestest). Here is a list of all the things (I can think of and ate on the trip) that involve banana: banana milk shake, banana pancake/crepe, fried bananas, banana soup, banana split, banana&avocado sandwich, banana fritter with chocolate, banana smoothie, banana pizza, roasted banana, banana with muesli&yogurt, banana chips, banana in coconut sauce. I think that is it. I also know things like high altitudes make people very gas-o-liscious, there is someone in every country that looks like Morgan Freeman, chocolate tastes best first thing in the morning while you are still in bed, sunsets are better in Africa (especially if they involve a beer and a hammock and a box of Pringles) and climbing mountains is dumb. Seriously though, I really am taking a lot with me from this trip (but I will charge for my knowledge - by the hour). My memories right now are a bit foggy due to experience overload and I expect I will keep learning from my trip for a long time to come. It's definitely helped to shape my perspective on the world, including what I want for my life and I saw things that made me smile that I will never forgot and of course things I wish I didn't because they make you sad and you start realizing the world can be terribly cruel.
One of my best memories is sitting on a bus in India with a little girl (she couldn't have been more than four and she was what they would consider an 'untouchable', which basically means she is of the lowest class in Indian society and likely won't have the opportunity to amount to very much). She was sitting behind me with her parents and baby brother, wearing only a t-shirt. She probably hadn't bathed in a week because she was filthy. I decided to share my iPod headphones with her and we rocked out to Western music for a good hour until they got off of the bus. I won't forget her smile or the fact that the family waved goodbye with big grins until I couldn't see them anymore. I do have a million and a half memories like that.. but for some reason that one has always stood out the most in my memory.
Finally, I couldn't have asked for a better travel compadre (as we said many times, our friendship is a low risk business agreement and therefore there was no pressure). I would definitely do it all again in a heartbeat, maybe even the Kili part. We had a hell of a lot of fun, we should have wrote down more of the ridiculous things we giggled about (cause there were so many) and we should have ate more (kidding!). I doubt that is even possible! It was pretty friggin fantastic though, wasn't it ;)
Tomorrow Lost
'Tomorrow Lost' is the memorial that is dedicated to the children
that died during the Rwandan genocide of 1994. The name is eerily
fitting and the memorial itself is tastefully put together and
extremely informative but being there and seeing it first hand doesn't
change that it is impossible to swallow (or believe) what happened in
this country just over a decade ago.
The photos are life size and hang tastefully on the wall. Immediately
the spirit of the children in the photographs jump out at you - they
remind me of all of the children I've met in Africa. Big smiles,
happy, playful, mischievous eyes and mismatched grubby clothes.
Innocent as hell. Beside each picture is a small description which
details the child's name, age, favorite food and a characteristic that
would best describe their personality. The last detail is the method
in which they were killed. Shot, bludgeoned to death, stabbed in the
eye. However it was, it was brutal and cruel and disgusting. It
goes without saying - none of it should have happened and you can't
help but walk out of there with the sickest feeling in your stomach.
I think most people (are now) aware of what happened in Rwanda, thanks
to movies like 'Hotel Rwanda' and Romeo Dallaire's novel detailing his
personal experience during the crisis. (And if you still don't know
just keep an eye on E! Now because Paris Hilton, is like, visiting
there, for like charity stuff, like, this month! Wicked!).
Anyway, to give a Cole's note semi accurate history lesson tensions
built during colonial rule when the Belgians pitted the more dominant
Tutsis against the Hutus in order to have a political advantage. They
switched 'sides' when people began to push for Independence and
basically all hell broke loose after that. Originally Germany was
'awarded' rule of Rwanda during the late 1800's when the Europeans
decided to divide Africa - it was then 'won' by Belgium as a result
of WWI. (Don't assume that Africa was even aware of it being divided
let alone having a say in what was happening).
We spent some time in a really sleepy village in Rwanda, very close to
the Congolese border. It was your typical African town with a small
market selling not much more than designer jeans, tomatoes, cocoa
butter and colourful kangas. There were no tourists, no restaurants.
There weren't even street vendors or cars let alone bicycles. "Rush
Hour" was a line of people walking home from work, or whatever it was
they were doing. On April 1994, 11,400 people were massacred in this
town. In one day.
There wasn't much to do there. We spent most of our time detoxing,
trail running and exploring mountain villages. We realized that a lot
of people 'hung out' at the gas station. So we did to. We sat on the
bench in front of the small shop that sold cool drink and did what
they did. It was actually pretty entertaining as far as people
watching goes. We met a little boy who was three years old. He
didn't speak English, French or Swahili so the lines of communication
were hugs and smiles. We couldn't figure out if he 'belonged' to
anyone because he was just always there hanging out wearing snowpants
and a ripped t-shirt that had seen better days. A man gave him some
money, and he immediately went to buy muffins because he was clearly
starving. He sat down on the bench with us, and in typical African
fashion he offered us his food before he even took any. This lil guy,
who is half starving..with 'nothing' in the world, except really
impressive manners.
Looking at Rwanda now you see a relatively more affluent society than
what we have seen in other African countries (sort of). The roads are
paved, the people are better educated and there is a lot of
positivity. It seems like there are a lot of opportunities and that
people are moving forward. The international community has pumped a
lot of aid because of the guilt from ignoring the genocide and perhaps
that is the only positive thing you can take from the experience. It
doesn't make it better that 1 million people had to die but it's
comforting to know that nothing like that will happen to these people
again.
that died during the Rwandan genocide of 1994. The name is eerily
fitting and the memorial itself is tastefully put together and
extremely informative but being there and seeing it first hand doesn't
change that it is impossible to swallow (or believe) what happened in
this country just over a decade ago.
The photos are life size and hang tastefully on the wall. Immediately
the spirit of the children in the photographs jump out at you - they
remind me of all of the children I've met in Africa. Big smiles,
happy, playful, mischievous eyes and mismatched grubby clothes.
Innocent as hell. Beside each picture is a small description which
details the child's name, age, favorite food and a characteristic that
would best describe their personality. The last detail is the method
in which they were killed. Shot, bludgeoned to death, stabbed in the
eye. However it was, it was brutal and cruel and disgusting. It
goes without saying - none of it should have happened and you can't
help but walk out of there with the sickest feeling in your stomach.
I think most people (are now) aware of what happened in Rwanda, thanks
to movies like 'Hotel Rwanda' and Romeo Dallaire's novel detailing his
personal experience during the crisis. (And if you still don't know
just keep an eye on E! Now because Paris Hilton, is like, visiting
there, for like charity stuff, like, this month! Wicked!).
Anyway, to give a Cole's note semi accurate history lesson tensions
built during colonial rule when the Belgians pitted the more dominant
Tutsis against the Hutus in order to have a political advantage. They
switched 'sides' when people began to push for Independence and
basically all hell broke loose after that. Originally Germany was
'awarded' rule of Rwanda during the late 1800's when the Europeans
decided to divide Africa - it was then 'won' by Belgium as a result
of WWI. (Don't assume that Africa was even aware of it being divided
let alone having a say in what was happening).
We spent some time in a really sleepy village in Rwanda, very close to
the Congolese border. It was your typical African town with a small
market selling not much more than designer jeans, tomatoes, cocoa
butter and colourful kangas. There were no tourists, no restaurants.
There weren't even street vendors or cars let alone bicycles. "Rush
Hour" was a line of people walking home from work, or whatever it was
they were doing. On April 1994, 11,400 people were massacred in this
town. In one day.
There wasn't much to do there. We spent most of our time detoxing,
trail running and exploring mountain villages. We realized that a lot
of people 'hung out' at the gas station. So we did to. We sat on the
bench in front of the small shop that sold cool drink and did what
they did. It was actually pretty entertaining as far as people
watching goes. We met a little boy who was three years old. He
didn't speak English, French or Swahili so the lines of communication
were hugs and smiles. We couldn't figure out if he 'belonged' to
anyone because he was just always there hanging out wearing snowpants
and a ripped t-shirt that had seen better days. A man gave him some
money, and he immediately went to buy muffins because he was clearly
starving. He sat down on the bench with us, and in typical African
fashion he offered us his food before he even took any. This lil guy,
who is half starving..with 'nothing' in the world, except really
impressive manners.
Looking at Rwanda now you see a relatively more affluent society than
what we have seen in other African countries (sort of). The roads are
paved, the people are better educated and there is a lot of
positivity. It seems like there are a lot of opportunities and that
people are moving forward. The international community has pumped a
lot of aid because of the guilt from ignoring the genocide and perhaps
that is the only positive thing you can take from the experience. It
doesn't make it better that 1 million people had to die but it's
comforting to know that nothing like that will happen to these people
again.
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