The Toilet Monster

Do you remember when you were a kid and you were scared to go to the bathroom at night because something might come crawling up out of the toilet? Well, at least that was one of my fears as kid. But here in Africa it is a reality that I live with everyday. When squatting over a hole in the dark there’s no telling what will come crawling out. One night as I was returning from the ‘bathroom’ I felt something on my head. It turned out that a huge cockroach had crawled onto my shorts and made its way up to my head. My room mate Lori had an experience with a praying mantis in an undesirable location. There also a few chickens who have apparently found the best place to roost at night is on top of our bathroom wall.

Ghetto-rigged light

Along with our ghetto-rigged AC we now have an overhead light to match. In the market you can buy flashlights that have been rigged with wires for a switch and the LED lights attached to a broken light bulb. Our compound asked us to buy some for them so they can see while sitting on the front porches at night. We decided that this was a request that we would be happy to answer and we bought one for in our house as well.

Relief from Humidity

Now that the rainy season has come so has the humidity that you could cut with a knife. It is just about unbearable to sleep at night. So Lori and I purchased a car battery to run a 12volt fan on to help with this problem. The clamps on the fan are too small to hook on the battery so we wrapped bobby-pins around the connectors to attach the clamps...here is our ghetto-rigged AC.

Weekend Retreat

Now that Gary and Denise have gone back to America Lori and I decided to take a short break to relax. It was also a good excuse to get out of the village during the circumcision ceremony. We stayed at a guest house run by a few Catholic sisters. It was a nice quiet weekend on the coast.

Making personal pan pizzas

Sunset on the Atlantic (yup sunset, not sunrise)

We frequent this pool at a nearby hotel

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Reflections on Female Circumcision

I heard stories about female circumcision in Africa from Clair Good in my training in Harrisburg. I never thought I would encounter it and have to figure out my feelings on it. But here I am in Africa, face to face with it and I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the harsh reality of it.

Growing up in my safe, countryside home in a Western culture, I was taught from a very young age what to protect as private. I knew my mom was protecting me by telling me these things. In Africa when a girl is between the age of 6 and 12 it is time to be ushered into the family with a huge ceremony that the entire community is involved in. Her mother takes her the bush (forest) where the men have constructed a fenced in area. All the other girls her age are there too, along with older girls, young women and the elders. There is loud drumming, clapping, singing and chanting going on, it’s a day of celebration! Oh but not for the little girl, soon she is taken and being held down, one of the women (hopefully one with knowledge of medical practice) is cutting her insides out. The people in her life that she thought she could trust the most, her mother, sisters, grandmother did this to her. For three weeks she’s forced to stay in the bush with no bath. The older women teach her all she will need to know about life. Each night she is carried on someone’s back (piggy-back style) and walked across the village to another house to sleep. There are men dressed in big, fluffy, orange costumes carrying machetes (called the kankorang) who patrol the area and lead the procession between the bush and the house. They are there to ward off any witches and evil spirits that may come to harm the girls during this vulnerable time. The rest of the village must be in their houses from 7pm to 7am or the kankorang will come and get you. Throughout the night the kankorangs will patrol the village and come bang on doors or anything else in the compound. Some people say they’ve seen him fly or jump from the ground to the roof of buildings. At the end of the three weeks there is another huge celebration. The girl is now an accepted member of society. Of course the girl is happy and excited, she survived bush school, she has a role now. She has no idea of the pain and struggle she may have to deal with in years to come.

I hope that someday this village will have other ways to celebrate a child's coming of age. I pray that girls will not have to suffer through this.

Monogomy? You must be joking.

I yell goodnight to families sitting around a fire on a cool evening in December. As I reach my compound I find our landlord and his wife chatting by the fire. They look so cute and in love. A few months later, it’s now May. Our landlord’s wife had a baby in February but he has been gone working in the city for the past 2 months. I hear commotion outside and look out the window to see what’s going on. I see our landlord has returned. His wife is all dressed up and runs to greet him. Both times I smile to myself and think how great it is to see them so happy. But in the back of my mind I remember that this is his third wife and he has kids older than she is. He has just come back from spending 2 months with his second wife and their nine children. This is certainly not the only man with multiple wives. There are very few men who like the idea of having a friendship marriage with only one woman. I can’t imagine what it must be like to share your husband with another woman. I will be happy to wait for a man that I know loves only me.

No Germs in Africa

Sometimes I forget that I’m in a remote African village… and then I’m reminded by small but significant differences in culture and mindset. I will take the next few entries to attempt to share these stories with you in a way that you can relate with me.

Stepping out my door on my way to work I’m asked to sit down and join my neighbors for some breakfast. To be polite I pull up a stool around the communal bowl of rice pudding. One of the kids runs inside to get a spoon for me and as they return I can see there is evidence of last night’s dinner still on the spoon. They swish it around in a bowl of ‘clean’ water and hand it to me. Of course, in my head I’m thinking “That water hasn’t been filtered and without soap that spoon is still greasy.” But I take the spoon and dig in right beside the two year old who is squatting beside the bowl with no pants and no underwear. And that’s when I’m glad I get to eat with my hands (which have been washed with soap) for lunch.

Life is a giant sandbox for the kids and a giant litter box for both the children and animals here and any child under the age of three can get away with running around with no clothes on. As I walk back into my compound at lunch time all it takes is for one person to say my name and the kids come running from all directions wanting to be picked up and held. I don’t even think about it anymore with the little girls but I will not pick up the little boy if he doesn’t have clothes on, but I think he’s okay with that considering he still cries if he gets too close to the Tubob (white person).