I just stepped outside to brush my teeth and as I unscrewed the lid of my pink water bottle to wet my toothbrush I looked up to see a cow walking in the gate of the orphanage where we now live in Kenya. It had a rope tied around it's back right leg, and the owner, or herder perhaps, walked behind near the end of the rope that drug on the ground for about eight to ten feet. I said quietly, yet outloud, “I am leading a strange life.” I think this a lot, actually, but usually blogs come and go in my mind without ever making it to paper, or words on a screen. This time I decided to come sit down inside my REI Quarter Dome tent, get out my little red laptop, and write about Africa, and cows, or whatever else comes to mind.
To pick up where I left off, it's almost dusk here in Kitale. When I looked over at the cow while I was brushing I was careful to put my toothbrush cap and toothpaste in my pocket so they'd be secure for when I'd lean over off the ceramic tile step to spit into the dirt. I dropped my cap the other night while standing over by a fence brushing, so I had to maneuver my head around to find it with my headlamp. Picking it up I could feel my face wince since I know that cow, or another one that looks suspiciously like it, has been roaming around in the vicinity at some point. I know this because of the evidence… cow patties are everywhere.
The first day we arrived here, which was about 3 days ago, I was doing laundry “World Race Style”. While I can't speak for everyone on the squad, or even on my team, I know that most of us have down our own system of soaking, rinsing, kind-of ringing out, then hanging to dry. So, yeah, I pretty much wear dirty clothes all the time because I haven't mastered hand-washing the way it's “supposed” to be done. Some might call the it the “wrong” way since I don't really get the clothes “clean”, but I choose to think of it as an “alternative style” that is simple, and semi-effective. Most of my squadmates that I've seen do laundry by hand on the Race have a somewhat similar style to mine, and yet as I sat next to Hosanna and her bucket of clothes I did notice that she does more rubbing together of her fabric than I do. I've also noticed that she rings out her clothes a lot better than I do. Hmm. But then I saw the guys from our team doing their laundry a few hours after we did, and suddenly I felt a lot better about my technique once again. Hugh did his bag full in less than ten minutes since his method barely even involves any soaking or swishing. He could call it “dousing” his clothes at best, followed by a good, old-fashioned drip dry. He was done with his dousing before I had time to take all my clothes off the line. As I did this, I tried to not slip in the muddy swamp that was all around the clothesline because of recent rain, and I ducked under the last row of clothes that were adding to the mush below with all their dripping, which were hung up by you-know-who. Mixed in with the mud slide were fresh cow patties. Many times during the day I see cows hanging out over by the laundry that is being teased by a gentle African breeze, and I wonder why they like hanging out over there. I pictured asking them and they just say “why not?” and then they moo, so I decided to leave it like that and not bother to ask. I carefully tip-toed out from under last row of clothes, around the patties, and started walking across the red dirt yard. I saw one of the resident dogs looking cute, and a little sad, as he rested. I would learn later from a girl named Sylvia that his name is Rex. After petting him for a while and telling him he's a sweet pooch to lift his spirits, I stood up and took a step away a little too quickly… because my right foot landed square in the middle of a cow patty.
As I think about all the things I can write to you about, I can't help but think my stories might somewhat resemble the episodes of Little House on the Prairie I used to watch every day. The difference is, this is modern day, and it's not taking place on the plains or prairies of America. In the case of hand-washing clothes, it's certainly not just how it is here in Africa, though… we've been doing our laundry this way on three continents so far. One thing that thankfully we didn't have to “experience” in Central America or Eastern Europe, however, is the dreaded squatty potty. The first time I saw one was about nine years ago when I took a trip to South Korea. Where we were staying we had regular toilets, but a friend pointed out the hole-in-the-ground 'toilets' to me when we were walking around, and if I remember right my thought was, “there's no way people have to use those for real.” Fast forward to the summer of 2010 when I went on my first missions trip to India, where I found out the answer. I had seen the movie Slumdog Millionaire with the 'outhouse scene', but got to experience first-hand the joys of using a squatty potty while we spent time in and around Bangalore and Darmapuri for ten days. The most memorable time was when we were riding in a bus for many hours and my friend, Megan, and I had to go. The driver pulled off to the side of the road by a shady looking establishment, and Megan and I walked side by side in a dark alley next to it which led to a dingy looking “bathroom” which was a hole in the ground with a few makeshift walls around it.
When we first got to Morogoro, Tanzania last month, Wes and Zach thought it was really funny when they said with big grins, “We just looked! There's toilets!” We were surprised, but happy… that is, until we discovered that they were full of it. The showers were in the same stall as the squatty potties, and if you were lucky the water wouldn't back up in the drain and create a lake for you to stand in while shivering from the cold water. Zach, our short-term team jokester, was one of two college students that spent just the one month in Tanzania with us through the AIM “Exposure” program. He loved to stay as fresh and clean as possible, so in a game we play called “1 to 10” we dared him that he couldn't take a shower for a week. We had traveled to Gairo that week where we were spoiled by having water heated for us to take bucket showers, so he really missed out. Once we got back to Morogoro he was back in the squatty potty shiver shower. We had a month where the water was even colder, though. Honduras. Our whole squad was together that month, and the guys and girls had to share a 3 toilet, 2 shower room. I would hear yelps and shouts of “Kellll-ly Clarkson” from the shower stalls, which didn't help me get up courage to use one. By about day 5 of not taking a shower, though, I had to try it. I have never even been in an ocean as cold as the water coming out of the shower heads in Honduras. I think I only took 3 showers that month… because suddenly when I stepped into the melted iceberg falling on me, the thought occurred to me that showering once a week seemed a bit excessive.
Today is Sunday, though since we don't have wi-fi where we live, I don't know what day of the week it will be when I post this. One thing I want to encourage you all in America with is never be discouraged if your church service goes 'over' a few minutes and you miss part of a game, or a BBQ at your neighbors. Our church service was almost 4 hours today, and that wasn't even the longest one yet on the Race. Not to mention that in many countries we've attended church services almost every day of the week, too. My favorite part today, which I'd love to incorporate into a service back home, is when they said something and everyone started walking outside. I looked at Wes who was sitting next to me and he saw the puzzled expression on my face and he said, “they said to go grab a leaf!” A few minutes went by and then everyone was back with pieces of bushes and trees in their hands, and they started waving them around. I snagged one leaf off of Wes', but as I was waving it in the air an African girl handed me a much bigger and better branch. We danced around the church with our foliage and it reminded me of some days at the special needs orphanage in Guatemala our first month. The director, Maureen, said she felt we needed to sing and pray for protection by marching around inside the compound where we lived. So several days we were there we had a little parade of praise inside Los Gozosos, and the dog even walked with us once or twice. I really enjoyed it, except we sang in Spanish out of little hymn books, and I would get dizzy trying to follow the words as we stayed in motion.
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Well, it is now Tuesday and I'm going to try to post this by using a little internet stick we have through a company called Safaricom. I saw the cows posing this morning by the clothesline, so I got some pics. Just know that as I send this I am thinking of you, while I'm also thinking about In 'N Out Burgers, chips and guacamole, Raisin Bran, and good ol' American apple pie (with vanilla ice cream, of course).
Blessings,
Jo Linda
