hail to those

Joseph wears underarm deodorant with Old Spice in it. I myself do not wear deodorant (yes, and I am One with all nature, tiny butterflies flock to me, I am their spiritual mother) - but what I imagine is the deodorant people simply dumping a bottle of cologne into a large, boiling vat of goo. However they accomplish such magic, Joseph is here this weekend and filling our home with a much-needed jolt of pure, unadulterated masculinity.

The man himself, in paradise, snoozing after lunch.

My life is 99.9% feminine. (Africa is teeming with lovely foreign women, all of us single, overearnest, and saving the world). So walking into the bathroom today, and the kitchen, and the living room, everywhere suffused with such classic maleness, made me nearly fall over. It was weird and wonderful, like I'd wandered into a happy memory of my chicken-farming grandfather standing in his Sunday suit, tall in gray leather cowboy boots, hair slicked back, and spitting chew into an empty Campbell's soup tin with the label ripped off. It is impossible for me to separate the scent of Old Spice from the sweet, tangy aroma of tobacco. American boys stop wearing cologne after high school, and that is a big mistake on their part.

The neighbor's rooster on the prowl, as usual.

Compounding my associations (and raising the level of masculinity to unheard-of proportions), Joseph also built a chicken coop for us, a big one. Our chicken Fudza got some companions this week, so it was necessary to upgrade her accommodations. Sara's friend's 5-year-old daughter named them: Mafigo (banana in Sena) for the duck, Branca (white in Portuguese) for the black chicken, and Mbavha (thief in Shona) for the orange chicken. We are turning into an eccentric urban farm, which is funny and fun; but when I wear Sara's Amish-looking apron out in the yard to harvest sweet potato leaves while waiting for my bread dough to rise, I sometimes feel I'm about a bonnet away from hitching up the covered wagon and marrying second cousin Ignatius, the 'ol preacher's son.

Then I put on Lauryn Hill and polish my nose ring, for reassurance.

I personally wouldn't mind having a strong guy like this around.