If you never take a shower again

you STILL wouldn't be able to imagine the infinite layers of grime I am emprisoned under.

This is the kind of place where 'bathing' only makes you cleaner if you've already surpassed a certain thresold of dirtiness. My definition of it is redefined. And I've become completely comfortable with it.

It's earned from hard work under the sun and long journeys down dusty roads and barefoot charades with small children.

And what was once body odor eventually just becomes a more subtle and all-encompassing aura that shrouds the rooms you walk into. It's like a funk. You can literally wear it. There is a weight atop your skin.

In fact, my father, brother and sister arrived here yesterday, and were suprised to find me well-adjusted, happy, and healthy. They, after traveling 36 hours to get here, checked into a hotel in Webuye to spend the night so they could shower. They invited me, but I actually turned down my first opportunity to utilize modern plumbing system, in solidarity with my fellow basin-bathers.

Au contraire. I rock the funk rather proudly.