African Boy Travis

If Travis were littler and browner it would be easy to mistake him for a little African boy. He spends a great deal of time barefooted, running around, and playing football (you know... soccer).
All this might not convince you, if he wasn't also almost always surrounded by a dozen or more children.
They LOVE him.
The picture above was taken by Matt, another Komaza employee, at a school we were filming at. Travis spent almost the whole time filming the kids, and then replaying the footage for them to see.
And, exactly like the American children who we know love to see themselves on film, these kids couldn't get enough of it.
Remember this picture from Trav's blog? He would run, and they would follow.

Then, of course, they wanted to watch themselves running.

He's reading over my shoulder and I'm going to make him leave so I can talk more about him.
Good, now it's just us... you and me, blog world.

I am reminded every day how absolutely crazy madly in love with Travis I am. He is so good and patient and kind, and smart, and unbelievably hard working. (I notice that the most in Africa. Take a break! I actually have to beg him to stop overworking himself.)
Our driver Peter has noted many, many times to how humble Travis is. "You are not like other Americans," Peter said.
"They are so rich and prideful and they think they can have whatever they want here. They use harsh and vulgar language, but your husband is so humble. He is a real Christian man, always trying to do so much good to everyone he meets."

Everyday that we go out into the field to work Peter drives us and he always says, "Please do not work so hard as yesterday. You will be too tired. You are overworking."
And when I give up and sit in the car to rest he says, "You are a lucky woman, he will always take care of you. He works so hard. As long as he has time for you, and not just work, you will always be happy."

And let me assure you, Travis has time for me. He makes time for me. He is so unbelievably good to me.
The people here at Komaza are all Americans, most older than me, close to Trav's age. For the most part I think they don't want to be married, at least for a long time.

And I think, You fools.
Being married is awesome. You have someone to take care of you, and for you to take care of. You have someone to love for the rest of forever. You have someone to go with you when you go on an adventure into Africa so you aren't alone.
And when you shimmy down under the sheets and say you cannot fall asleep for fear of the devil's evil monster mosquitoes which you hate (grrrr!) you can have a husband who will cover you and the bed in bug spray and then carefully pin every hole in the netting close and then kill all the mosquitoes who come near you.
Even though its a pain.

And even though you now taste disgusting to kiss, because of the bug spray, he'll probably still kiss you goodnight.

And then he'll let you sleep by the fan.
And he'll let you sleep on his half of the bed, snuggled up despite the heat.
And he'll let you sleep in and then get up and make you breakfast in bed.

And because its meager, he'll probably sprinkle sugar ON your peanut butter toast.
Which is divine and unhealthy.

But let me restate: It is only great to have a husband if he is amazingly fantastic and perfect.

Which Travis is.