The day we visited a Pentecostal Church, was also the day that Wil convinces a local man to let him borrow his bicycle and we decided that he should give me a ride on the back of it (the Boda-Boda boys could do it, and Wil could ride a push bike)…. What could go wrong with this plan?

A. LOT. The answer is A. LOT. Wil, although fluent in the art of riding a mzungu bike, had absolutely no hope in hell of successfully riding a 20kg iron bicycle from approximately the 1950s … with no gears, too tall for him, on a gravel road, with a fully grown Josie sitting on the back (Side saddle of course, after all, I am a lady)…. Oh, and did I mention that we had an audience of approximately one million (okay, 40) local adults and children running along beside us screaming “But Mzungu’s can’t ride bikes….!” Gotta hate it when they got that shit right.

After an excruciating five minutes of this misdirected adventure, Wil and I picked ourselves up off the gravel, gave the bike back and continued to walk as though nothing had happened…
  

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