I gave in and I’m drinking the one can of beer my new African sister bought for me. Apparently she was asking about me before I got there, and who knows how it came up, but Seny told her that I drink. So there was a can of beer waiting in my room when I arrived. Though I’m afraid it turned out to be more of a “it’s the thought that counts” kind of gift.
Since apparently no one drinks here, perhaps they don’t know that beer is best served chilly. Especially on these humid days, an icy beer would be to die for. Refrigeration / electricity in general here is a bit sparse, however, so my beer is warm. Not just warm, but room-temperature-in-Africa warm. But I’m emotionally unstable right now. This last week has been super overwhelming. I just want to cry all the time. And when I’m home, beer seems to help with things like this. I realized that besides being in a seven-hour different time zone in a third world country eating fish heads and orange soda for breakfast, I also have incidentally given up both coffee and alcohol on the same day. That could make anyone a little cray.