I’ve found God. Via text message.

Every day, I receive three or four text messages that are pure spam. Thankfully, I don’t pay for them.

Lately, they’ve been Valentine’s Day themed, as though I needed such tugging of the heartstrings. Other times, they’re offering me all manner of calling plans or Bollywood ring tones. Jai Ho (the popular diddy from Slumdog Millionaire) is still not old.

But frequently they are extolling the virtues of religion and offering to help me find it.

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The sea is a lovely, cruel mistress

A fetish to the sea goddess

A fetish to the sea goddess

On December 26, 2004, a tsunami wiped out a swath of fishermen’s homes on the beach near Hut Bay on Little Andaman island.

Five years later, I went there to see what, if anything, was left.

The fishermen and their familes have moved inland, afraid of the sea. The beach is scattered with garbage and little else.

A small temple was rebuilt near the beach, and fishermen worship there and at fetishes along the sandy spit for good luck as they head for their daily catch. Hanging from the fetish: bangles, earrings, hair and a comb.

The sea goddess is still worshipped because they know no other way. She is wonderful and terrible all at once, one fishermen said.

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Taxi cab confessions in Nairobi

"You must live up to your name."

Masha Mwangi: "You must live up to your name."

The following what I get for singing along with old church hymns randomly in a cab.

I would like to introduce you to Masha Mwangi, a 29-year-old born-again Christian cabbie, new-found friend and available driver, should anyone be in Nairobi.

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