Finding Myself in Africa- Chapter 11

It’s my 8th day in this poverty-stricken country and the power has now been out for the past two days. Even the slightest drizzle of rain causes the WiFi to shut down and the power to go out. It poured all night and it was so loud that even my ear plugs couldn’t keep out the sound. It doesn’t help that I was in bed by 8:30 p.m. like some old woman.

After a fitful night’s sleep I wake up to the rooster directly outside of my window. He must have been angry about the weather because he is LOUD and instead of going off every 15 minutes, it is more like every 2. I strongly am considering finding a gun and putting the annoying bird out of his misery.

After getting to school and setting up shop (we are still making letters and pictures for the kids) I finally have realized where the terrible stench in the courtyard is coming from. I’ve been smelling it for a few days and didn’t realize the toilet the kids use is in the courtyard, right next to where we’ve been working. Although, I use the term “toilet” loosely. It is a small area about the size of a broom closet. There is a wooden door that only locks from the outside and I have seen several children go in to use the toilet at the same time.

How is that possible, you might ask? Well, the toilet is not a conventional toilet; it is a hole in the ground outlined with a plastic rim. A couple times a day a teacher or a group of students dump a bucket of water down the hole, for what purpose I have no idea. All I know is I have to sit in the room right next to it and smell it for 7 hours a day.

I do feel bad for the children, not only do they have to use a substandard toilet, the food we feed them is hardly nutritional. They eat the same food every single day without complaint. We feed them tea and bread in the morning and for lunch they get a small portion of white rice with watered down beans and cabbage. They actually put extra cups of water in the beans to make it a soup-like substance so there is more to go around.

On the side, they get a small slice of banana or watermelon but when I am finished serving the food there is always some pieces left. Carefully I take the tray to the baby class first but the children swarm around me. They all want the extra food I have to offer. Their hands are in front of my face and I raise the tray high above their heads for fear of them knocking it down. They yell “Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!” hoping I will hear them and put a morsel of food in their tiny, outstretched hand. The little kids tug on my shirt to get my attention since they are not tall enough for me to see them.

I can’t imagine being so young and having to fight for food because I’m not sure when my next meal will be. The best part though, is these kids have such high hopes for the future. When you ask them what they want to be when they grow up you don’t hear the things you’d expect of a 7-year-old. When I was little we said we wanted to be a ballerina or a champion figure skater or professional baseball player. These kids tell you that they want to be a pilot or a lawyer, a doctor or a pastor; proof that they are reaching for a brighter future.

After getting back to the house the power was out again so I decided to take another nap. I know, I acknowledged already that I nap too much out here. Half an hour later I’m waking up to Lydia at my door telling me the water is back on and I can take a shower.

Due to the power being out I haven’t been able to shower for a couple days and between you and me, I’m starting to smell like my roommate. So I jumped (literally) at the opportunity. I launch myself out of bed and run to the shower, just as it starts to rain again. Even though I really want to soak under the water, two things prevent me from doing so, the small trickle of water coming out of the spout and the fact that I am afraid the rain will cause the water to shut off while I have soap in my hair.

It’s amazing how one day can make any sort of difference in how I feel here. I’m beginning to get more comfortable, instead of hiding out in my room all night, I hang out in the living room with the family. Instead of writing my blog in bed, I sit at the table and write. It’s a very interesting scene with Lydia and Virginia on my right talking in German, and Mila, Rose and Joseph on my left speaking in Swahili. I’m beginning to think I’m not cultured enough. Every country in the world makes their people learn several languages. In America, most of us only know one. I’d like to become more cultured. There are so many opportunities available to us, why not take them?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s