After we got the wart hogs, the driver drove up in the all terrain jeep and we piled in and left. I still think of Ndanda as a safe place; I had been so happy to go there and realize that Joe had landed in a good place. There was a pool, there was an organ, the merchants knew him, the school loved him, the volunteers at the hospital loved him, he was comfortable there. And safe.
After the unrest in Kenya we thought that he had had his adventure and here he was in a nice backwater where everyone knew him. He was underfed, and he had none of the amenities of modern life and he was lonely but he had learned alot about himself, and he was safe. At least we thought he was safe.
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