Year of the Beard

One year of growing a beard. 2011. Quite possibly one of the top 5 best decisions of my life. I mean, seriously, what's better than combing food crumbs out of your beard after a good meal. I've been at this for 107 days. I thought maybe after a couple months I'd grow fond of it, but in actuality, I have to resist the urge to grab every sharp object I see so I don't hack it all off in one fell swoop. I'd like to say that large beards are common and my struggle is internal. But no. The external forces are powerful, especially those from the Congolese. Apparently these vocal inhabitants of Congo have a great appreciation of history of Christianity, including the western image of Jesus Christ. My swahili knowledge is not extensive, but there are a few words I can understand as I walk down the street: Mzungu (white person) and Jesu (Jesus). If I hear those words mixed in a sentence followed by some laughing, giggling, and pointing I am pretty sure I'm the center of the conversation. Fortunately I'm the most talked about person in every 50ft radius I'm in.

One year of my life and for what? I guess because I can. A way to make small group of people (not including the entire country of Congo) smile and laugh. A way to practice self-control. A story to tell when it's all over. I still have 258 more days to think of some other benefits. Cheers to the year I will not attract the ladies with the overgrowth of hair on my face.