10 September 2007

metaphor for an ethiopian bus ride.

My friend Candace, sadly still trapped in the hkj, sent me the following. Because I'm unemployed and have virtually limitless free time, I found the original post, which is also worth a read. I'm so excited.

Picture your favourite lunch box from when you were a child. You know, when they were still cool, before your angst-ridden teenaged brown bag stage. Maybe it was Scooby Doo, perhaps Strawberry Shortcake, maybe even Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles if you are a bit younger. Mine was Starsky and Hutch. Remember how much you loved that lunch box. How proud of it you were. Everyday at lunch you would pull out your peanut butter and jam sandwich, chow down on your chocolate chip granola bar, throw out your celery and carrot sticks, and poke your straw through the top of your juice box (except in my case; we were too poor for juice boxes. We got juice bags with that little rectangle of thicker plastic across the middle that you were supposed to stab your straw through. This never worked and either resulted in an exploded bag and a lap full of juice, or a sad, crippled straw. If you were like me, you simply bit the corner off the bag and sucked the whole thing down in one go.)

Still have that image of your childhood lunchbox in your mind? Good. Now, imagine sitting in it with the lid closed... for two days. Now imagine the school bully (you know, the one who seemed so big, but in retrospect was just fat) beating it on the pavement of the school playground for those two days... under the school bus muffler. It's a diesel. Every once in a while have him bounce it off a cow, or donkey. Hell, even a camel. Now stick a live chicken in the lunch box with you and have someone puke in it. This is pretty close to your typical Ethiopian bus ride.

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