Hard To Explain

Statistics have shown that 100% of Public Health Peace Corps volunteers working in Kenya will at some point during their service come into possession of a large number of condoms. The acquisition may be purposeful or unexpected, legitimate or in direct violation of multiple international laws (e.g. The Great Condom Train Heist of ‘72), but in the end it is an inevitable part of the Peace Corps experience and is a tradition as old as, if not older than, the Peace Corps itself. Of those condoms, 99.99% are distributed to would be users, destroyed in water balloon tosses, or fed to gazelles. Of the remaining 0.01%, over 99% are carried out of the country knowingly by the volunteer (let’s assume so that they can put them in their scrapbook). So imagine my surprise and excitement at being a statistical anomaly when, while unpacking in front of my friend’s family, a black plastic bag full of unused male prophylactics that I certainly don’t remember packing, should tumble out onto out of my bag. With hands quick enough to catch lightning and a mask of nonchalance that most texas hold 'em players lie awaking at night dreaming about I managed to tie up the bag and put it out of view, managing not to attract any undue attention and avoiding a spill of difficult to explain contents across the floor of a living room full of children.

Now I’m placed in a precarious situation. My frugal side can’t stand to throw anything away that’s still perfectly usable, my efficient (euphemism for lazy) side has no interest in carrying around anything that I have no need for, and my sensible side tells me that approaching random strangers and asking if they want a bag of full of condoms could land me in hotter water than my current level of Korean can get me back out of. In the meantime this bag seems to have a mind of its own, showing up again all the most inopportune times. For now I’m just trying to keep it out of sight, but if anyone has a better idea I’m all ears (electronically speaking that is).