Ode to the Ziploc

Many times throughout the week, I miss America. Sometimes, I wonder if certain people are cut out for long, extended travel and certain people are meant to just stay put. And I sometimes wonder what category I fall under.

I can compile an enormous list of the things that I miss. Here is an abridged version:

1.) An antless-bed (sometimes in my bed I feel “ghost ants” too. Nothing is really crawling on me but I think there is, so I am incessantly waking myself up and scratching myself).

2.) An oven

3.) A real hamburger

4.) A postal system that works (don’t send me mail-- it is just aggravating).

A banjo would be on the list, but I (finally!) found the only one of all of Kenya, I think. Through word of mouth, multiple phone calls, lots of waiting (of course), some helpful translating (“No, like a guitar—but it is round and has five strings…”) I got one for about 70 bucks. It is halfway decent, too! It was just rusting out there in the bush, only about 10 minutes away from Malindi. It has made me very happy to say the least.

There are so many things that I miss, but the thing I miss the most is… drumroll, please…

The Ziploc Bag.

This isn’t saying that I don’t miss my friends or family. People fall in a completely different category. Just hear me out here: my kitchen is a cesspool, Ponderosa’s all-you-can-eat buffet for cockroaches. One time, I thought a drop of honey was a deflated, hairy eyeball. The ants had gathered around the sweet syrup like thirsty gazelles to a watering hole in a drought. Piled up on one another, the scene was Salvador Dali’s wet dream.

I have searched every convenience store, grocery store and market and nowhere can I find a Ziploc bag. Now, plastic bags (always referred to incorrectly as ‘paper bags’ for no reason) are ubiquitous here. They are used in the little shops and in houses, and mostly, one sees them on the ground. For takeout, restaurants simply slop food contents right into a little plastic bag and tie a knot like a balloon.

There is aluminum foil, plastic wrap, yes! but not even a Ziploc knockoff. I long to see those famous primary-colored strips and feel my thumb satisfyingly snap together (click-click-click), living up to its namesake: zipping to lock. Ahh, your belongings are completely waterproof and bugproof.

I have two accounted Ziploc bags that have made their way to Kenya from the United States and are in working condition. They are serving as 1.) a change holder. This is a trick that I have learned or inherited from Celeste. “Just keep a Ziploc bag of change in the car in case of meters.” There aren’t meters here, but I still keep change in a Ziploc in my backpack to ensure that it is all in one place 2.) for cheese, although it isn’t looking the most clean. With these magical satchels, your cheese stays dry and moist as God intended it to be.

If I would have known that there would be no Ziplocs in existence or that I would find a cockroach on my toothbrush, I wouldn’t have made a Celeste Janosko change purse.

There are so many other wonderful uses for these bags if only I had more. Probably five times a week I think-- if only I had a Ziploc, things would be a little easier.

Signing off,

J