Is Anything Wrong?

            Over the last month, my blog posts during the week have all been about my most recent trip to Kenya. I’ve written about probably more incidents than I’ve needed to and posted as many pictures as I could. I wish I could post them all and tell you about the most intimate details of the trip, but as it is, I’ve no doubt bored you enough.

            I realize that it is time to move on. We only spent three days and two nights in the Rift Valley, in the land of the Maasai. I do want to tell you a little about the rest of our short week in Kenya, but thought I would share just a few final pictures.

            The thing about these pictures is that, even though I just took them one month ago, it appears I wrote about them several years ago. All of these pictures could have been taken from my novel, “Where the Sky Meets the Sand”, which I started writing in January of 2011. Crazy, huh? 

Jenny walked several yards into the Savannah, scanning the horizon for life. Where was Ole? Surely, he had been more than excited to see her again. She had pictured him sitting at the camp the entire day, waiting for her, cooking a stack of chapatis for them.

           The men and older boys spent their days and often their nights out on the plains with their herds of cattle and other livestock, leaving the women behind to raise the younger children, find food, and gather water from the river, which was an hour’s walk away. The women also had to build new huts and repair the old ones. They raised all of the children together and shared in all of the work.

 

The bus stopped next to the closest structure. It was a small brick building, approximately twelve-foot square with no glass in its four windows. The door was hanging open, and they could see that the inside was empty except for dust.

Further along what would be considered main street, three more buildings stood on each side of the street. Several were also made of cement block, but the remaining were constructed of patched pieces of plywood. A few cattle grazed between the buildings and chickens scratched and pecked at the ground everywhere.

            Oddly enough, every time I return to Kenya, I realize inaccuracies in the book. Nothing major, just little things that bug me. Sometimes things I always knew about, but there was no way to change it without complicating the narration. Hopefully, any readers who can spot these flaws aren’t disappointed with the overall story. And if you haven’t read “Where they Sky Meets the Sand” perhaps you should and see if you can find anything wrong.