The bumpy road sloshed my brain around in my skull, making it pound even more than when we got in the van. I barely slept the night before, yet I didn’t try to sleep during the whole 5 hour drive. I was honestly just ready to get back to our comfy temporary home.
We were on our way back from a cabin that we were suppose to prepare for a team coming to stay for a month. The first floor of the cabin was made completely of concrete. Surprisingly enough, there was a western toilet and shower. The rest of the floor was one big room.
The second floor was wood panels that had cracks big enough to slightly see through, like a wood fence lining your yard. There was a balcony that took up half of it, a room that didn’t have a door, and a kitchen that only consisted of a counter, sink, and tiny stove. The windows were square cut outs with a swinging wood door that latched shut.
That was it. Simple.
There was running water, but no electricity. Certainly no air conditioning. Cell service didn’t reach out there, either. The team is part of a tribe that lives up in the mountains. They just got water and electricity within the last year and still don’t get cell service anywhere near their area, so living without isn’t a new concept.
We stayed at the cabin for two nights, arriving at dusk the first day and leaving by 8 am the third day. Short. And hardly worth mentioning since we barely ended up helping with anything. A generous boy in the neighborhood actually did most of hard work before we even showed up.
We set up our tents inside the cabin to avoid critters. Three of us, including our host, set up our tents downstairs on the concrete level. The other three tents ended up on the balcony on the second floor. All was great, and I slept soundly that night.
We helped where we could the next day, but honestly didn’t have much to do. The team of 19 people were coming that afternoon. Our host told us that all girls had to be on one floor and all the boys on the other. So, the girls on the second floor balcony decided to move their stuff to the bottom floor.
We tried to move all the tents inside. They fit, but we realized that the women coming with the team wouldn’t have room to sleep. We talked about some people putting their tents outside, but with the consistent rain in Panama, we didn’t want to do that either. We would be packing up the next morning, and a wet, muddy tent didn’t sound like a fun item to pack up.
I knew where this was going, and I was trying real hard to come up with a solution before the inevitable idea was brought up.
Then someone said it. “Maybe we should pair up and sleep two to a tent. That would leave room.”
Ugh. No.
But, yes. That’s exactly what we decided. And I hated it.
All of the thoughts started to flood my mind.
I am already roughing it in a tent. I don’t want to share. It will be so freaking hot with two people in one tent. I like my own space, I don’t want to give it up. I won’t be able to turn my light on and read because I’ll keep the other person awake. Ugh, this sucks.
And those thoughts never subsided, honestly.
The whole night was exactly like I imagined it would go. We were in the tent by 7:30 because it was dark outside and there was nothing to do. I couldn’t use my light because it’d keep people awake. It was freaking hot. We kept our tent doors open for air flow, and I still couldn’t sleep because I was literally sweating.
Then in the middle of the night we heard rustling around the tent. We zipped up the tent doors out of fear, but then we both had to pee. So Jess got out of the tent to go, and when she got back, I got out of the tent. I was curious about the sound, so I shined my flashlight in that direction.
And behold, a BAT was perched ON my tent wall. It fluttered around in the room and kept creeping on the ground around the tent the whole night, and I didn’t get any sleep. I was annoyed for every second of it.
Now, I’m sitting here back at our temporary home, and that team is still in the cabin with no tents or sleeping pads. Just a blanket laid out on the hard concrete floor. That’s all. No protection from the critters or bats.
Sleeping in a tent is the lowest of the low on the Race, yet that team could have easily looked at us and thought we were high maintenance to insist on sleeping in a $200 tent.
I am so prideful to think that sleeping in a tent was roughing it enough to justify not pairing up. I am selfish to not share half my tent to provide room for the other women to sleep on the bare floor.
So, here I am, realizing in retrospect how easily my flesh can fool me. Realizing that I need to repent of my selfishness and pride.
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