No hurry in Africa

Things really do happen slowly here. It took an extra day to get to
Nyota because things just take longer. We arrived at Nyota this
evening after a long, lurching bus ride where the windows threatened
to fall out with their rattling and the undercarriage sounded like it
lost a few pieces along the way. I wonder what Click and Clack would
say. Twice about 3/4 of the passengers had to get off and walk a bit
so the bus could go through a particularly treacherous stretch of
road. I'm just thankful I had a seat and that the bus didn't fall
over, nor did my bags fall off.

Shortly after arriving here I met the guys in charge. I introduced
myself, showed them my papers, and they proceeded to welcome me and
tell me there's "no hurry in Africa." They said I can start work
tomorrow if I want but we'll wait to sort out the official stuff (i.e.
money) on Monday, because they are definitely not working on Sunday.
Then they invited me to have a beer and eat some beef with them. Very
manly. So for the next hour or so I sat there with eight men drinking
beer and eating meat. I tried to follow the conversation but only
caught the gist of it a few times. It didn't seem to go so well when I
tried to participate. Maybe I asked too many questions?

Not only do I have to negotiate another culture and another language
(at least part of the time), I have to do it as a woman in a man's
culture. I hope I don't screw this up.