Voices
If you had predicted freshman year over dinner at Leo’s that I would join the Peace Corps, I would have laughed till ginger ale shot out my nose. Then I would tell you about a trip my family took to Kenya when I was seven. I ate gazelle, chased baboons, and enjoyed myself thoroughly. But, visiting a Masai village, my brother pointed at the walls of the dung huts and told me just what dung was. Shit? I was in the Business School freshman year, and though I didn’t know what I wanted to do after, my plans in no way included a dung hut in Africa.
By
Kathryn Brand
February 15, 2007