Well, so far, I’ve not made very many friends here in Camp Gibson, but I’m getting there. I know that I will make friends soon, because according to my mother, I’m very personable and people like me. Anyway, the people I have met so far and spent time talking to are mostly foreign nationals from the Philippines, Georgia, and Nepal. There are a couple guys who are from the US, but for the most part, if you are looking for me in the chow hall, I’m the pale fella sitting with the Filipinos. They are really nice and I think they feel slightly sorry for me – not having any white friends to hang out with and talk smack about the crazy foreigners.
In any case, I’m grateful to have some people to talk to, though my Filipino is rusty and limited to, “Huh?” which means, “I don’t know what you just said,” and “Pardon me,” which means pretty much what it means in English.
Later, I’ve been invited to a special voodoo ceremony where we dance and pray to a stick figure that the dust cloud over the camp will lift. I’ve heard it’s pretty fun, and there’s a stick figure.
I made that last part up, as a joke, but now that I’ve written it down, I’m thinking of throwing a party with that theme. More to come. . . .