since april....

Since it has been since April since I last updated this (I know, I know- no one cares)...I thought a numbers list was in order to catch up...


Number of times my guard called me outside to see the three tiniest cutest kittens I'd ever seen...1
Number of times I thought it would be great to show my roommates inside the compound a kitten...1
Number of times I corralled said kittens with the help of my guard and picked on up...1
Number of times the kitten I did catch bit me with a vengeance...1
Number of times I have contemplated where I went wrong in the decision making process...12560
Number of rabies shots given as a result of kitten bite...2
Number of times I have been reminded by others of the above experience when commenting on the cuteness of street animals I pass...4
Number of animals other than my own that I have touched since...0
Number of visits to America in June...1
Number of times I visited Chic-fil-A in that time...4
Number of times I was reminded of how great my friends and family at home are...103
Number of times I questioned the rightness of coming back to Africa...0
Number of planned trips to Ethiopia that leave tomorrow...1
Number of days I will be out of country...16
Number of countries I will visit...2 (ethiopia and zambia)
Number of wonders of the world I will witness...1 (Victoria Falls)
Number of old friends I will see...4 (Hey Helgrens!)
Number of new little friends I will meet...1 (Yay Lauren!)
Number of times I will think of you all...568 (at least)

Rainday

Remember how in elementary school and middle school (and, let’s just be honest, college) the first snow day of the winter would come like a long awaited and much celebrated friend returned from a long journey in parts unknown. The night before your big test the air grows cold and fresh and you smell it coming and you know: tomorrow’s going to be a snow day. And so you wait and try not to look at the window too often but can’t really help it. When it finally comes, that first snow, life slows and we would alternate between running around in the snow outside and coming in to thaw and drink cocoa. My family used to watch the entire set of Anne of Green Gables on days like that.

And so it is here. Sort of. Where I live the sand and bleached dirt stretches for miles all around, small scrubby bushes and trees dotting the horizon in every direction. So, as you can imagine, we do not get much snow. But each year, at the moment when the heat and dust have grown so strong that we wonder if water even exists in other parts of the world…it rains. And the whole world changes. We stop and smell the dust settling and the rain covering everything. The traffic stops and the people run for cover and then just stay where they end up.

In a desert society, seasons revolve around the state of the rain. It is either Rainy Season or it’s Dry Season. There are no others. Dry season is hot and, well, dry. Rainy season is hot and humid. (In fairness, there are also two lesser seasons entitled Hot and Cool season. But they would be more accurately described as Very Hot Season and Hot Season)

Rain is talked of and rumored for weeks before it arrives. I have sat in NGO meetings each week for the past month and heard of how it rained in the outskirts of this town a few days ago and in this neighboring village last week… “it’s coming” they murmur to each other with a mixture of delight and foreboding in their expressions.

And last night…it came.

We awoke in the morning to a delightfully strong breeze and as I went about my morning routine I felt the first sprinkles of what I was sure would be an enormous rain storm. It grew heavier but then stopped abrubtly. Sort of like those mornings you wake to a slight covering of snow but the sun comes out and you realize it’s not enough to cancel school. The sun came out and dried the ground and the day continued as normal, only hotter and more humid than I though possible.

But as the sun set, the clouds returned, this time with thunder and lightening. And suddenly it was raining. A lot. To reach any other part of the compound, you must walk outside…and I found myself intentionally running from one room to another on made- up errands just so I could feel the rain and wind and stomp through the puddles created by the cracks and uneven places in the courtyard concrete. I couldn’t help but notice the others doing the same, wide smiles on our face. The night passed pleasantly in marathon games of cards and doing “nothing,” comments passed around that it was a perfect rainday.

Tomorrow we will have to deal with the problems and issues that arise from the glorious cool rain falling in sheets all around us. Water will fill the streets and overflow the creek beds that have served as trash dumps for the past months of dry season. Diseases like cholera, malaria, and dysentery will begin springing up in place of May flowers and we will go back to work with an entirely new set of problems to solve.

But for now, we will enjoy the cool rain on our face, and fall asleep to the sound of it pattering on the tin roof of our house- content as fourth graders after a long day of snowmen and hot cocoa.

driving 101

So I've been trying to convince my boss to teach me to drive a manual...so I can start driving around here. He usually chuckles and changes the subject, as if I am not capable of adapting to the driving style of my national friends and neighbors...I disagree. In fact, in my months here I have picked up valuable and useful tips and methods of getting around in a vehicle that should make my transition onto the roads this African city much more smooth. Riding along in a taxi watching everyone drive can be the best classroom:) I thought I'd share a few of the lessons learned with you.

1. If there is no noticeable traffic pattern...make your own. Curbs, sidewalks, and road shoulders are good options if the road seems blocked.


2. Traffic police don't have guns...therefore it is not necessary to really pay attention to them. I mean, wow, that whistle is scary.


3. When pedestrians walk into the street in front of you (as they are wont to do around here), the best course of action is to accelerate quickly, so as to show them that you, the driver with the large vehicle, are serious about maintaining your course and they had better move it or loose it.


4. If said pedestrian does not take your kind and gentle suggestion to vacate the road and get on the sidewalk where they belong, it is best to slam on your brakes in such a way to come to a full and complete stop one to two feet away from the now frantic pedestrian. This insures that this pedestrian will never again step into the road without second thoughts. It's really for their benefit...really.


5. The lines in the roads are suggestions. If four cars can fit across a "three lane" highway, why not? Really, it's more efficient this way.


6. If the line of cars in the turning lane begins to grow long, just start a new one if the next closest lane. Waiting can be so tedious...


7. Talking on a cell phone while driving is illegal in the city, so drop the phone on the floor when you see a traffic policeman. While you're at it, throw your seat belt around one arm- it totally looks like you buckled it. Totally.


8. Pot holes and bumps in the road are par for the course here, so why avoid them? Who cares if the white people in the back of your rickshaw keep banging their heads on the ceiling...they should be paying better attention.


9. While it is technically correct to drive on the right side of the road, it is 100% understandable to cut across traffic, and drive on the other side of a divided highway against the flow of traffic if your destination is on that side. Or if you just want to. I mean, we're never in a hurry to get anywhere, but if driving in the wrong direction can get us there two minutes earlier...why not? It'll mean I have time to grab some tea with the guys before my meeting.


10. Speed limits...what speed limits?

So I'm still trying to glean what I can from the people around me before my first lesson behind the wheel...but I think I'm really catching on. Besides, I haven an international driver's license from Triple A (AAA is how you really are supposed to write it I guess)- what more do I need?

So if you have been thinking I'm serious while reading this and are, even now, punching in the numbers of my mother's cell phone number to warn her that I am out of control...allow me to ease your mind. I won't really adopt these sandbox driving practice...at least not most of them:) Talk to you all soon.

A few pictures to whet the appetite...or something like that.

Met her on the side of the road when we were walking into the "Downtown", she was going to get water in the wadi. And decided she needed to have a picture taken. I totally agreed.
Pace of life is different...so it's a pretty common site to see people just hanging out, sitting around (who needs chairs anyway? chairs are for sissies. and white girls with namesthat start with an S)

So the village we'll be semi-living in doesn't really have public transportation. Unless you consider this to be public...I didn't see an owner anywhere nearby at least...but careful, they spit.

More pictures to come...big momma wouldn't upload.

So I've been traveling a bit....

So in the past three weeks I have been on five plane rides, two helicopter flights, one very long journey in a minibus, one long hike with my trusty pack through ankle deep mud, and a six mile walk through some of the most beautiful country in the world. I have slept in a tent, fought off locusts, had my passport taken, had my passport returned, screamed at spiders, and spoken with a sultan. And I'm tired:)
But well.
More to come...and pictures, lots of pictures.

Death March 2007 aka. A Day at the Farm

So after the run in with the friendly chickens, we embarked upon the Sandbox Death March of 2007. What began as a "we'd love to see the orchards" turned into an hour and half walk over the whole property...from the farm, through the fruit trees (amazing...but not quite like the neat and tidy orchards you may think of at the Motts Apple Farm), to the River, through the fields, and back to the farm. Strangely enough, despite our best attempts at going early in the morning, we still managed to be walking in the heat of the day.

The good news is that I had my camera this time, and have a few to share with you. A Date Palm (they really exist)
My new friend. She was my walking buddy.
Mango (it's almost ripe...I ate it's brother yesterday)
Brother and Sister (with some mango in her mouth. gross)
out of the forest and to the river

My little friends, in the cornfields

The shore of the river...mud turns quickly to cracked earth in the heat

A Sandbox Scarecrow

Grapefruit.

SOoooooo in the end, we arrived back at the truck and drank water, recovered from the long walk, and ate our fruit with a sense of satisfaction that only comes from knowing that you earned it.

REJECTED

On Friday I visited a farm outside of the city. Now when I say "farm" I mean a place where things are grown, not necessarily the farm picture you probably have in your head when I write that. I know this because I had the picture of green hills and a white farmhouse in my head as I woke up and got ready to go- why I still thought this after living here three months I do not know. There was no white house or front porch. There were no green hills. But there were chickens. Lots of chickens.
I like wearing the covering ladies here wear- it goes over all your clothes and around your head and then over your shoulder (sounds complicated. kind of is...but the good news, I haven't tripped on it on a while). The covering I was wearing on Friday was a bright hot pink...and I was feeling pretty and cheerful (don't bother calling me out on my vanity...it solved itself later I promise). So our national friends are giving us a quick tour of their property- and take us to the chicken circle. A courtyard surrounded by huge chicken coop (sp.?)- each holding probably 300 chickens at least. As I slowly meander into the courtyard and approach the first chicken coop (sp?), I begin to hear some rustling in the pen. Then the rustling grows louder as the chickens begin to stir. Then suddenly all 300 chickens are flying around madly and bumping into each other and squawking like I'm there to kill them. I watch with interest, wondering what could be causing this ruckus...mentally berating whatever naughty thing would get the chickens all riled up in this way. I move away from the party coop and am astonished to see the same thing happen in the next pen. And the next. And the next.
A gentleman, apparently one in charge of the rather excited chickens, smiles at me and points to my tob and I smile back and wave- figuring he was interested to know why I would wear the slightly awkward covering. He did not stop pointing though and began speaking to me in Arabic, but alternated pointing to me, then the chickens, then the tob, and then all three over again. I could not hear over the ruckus, so I was puzzled, but kept smiling and shrugged a bit (I've learned when they think I'm dumb, they just leave me alone...lately it has not been hard to convince people of this). Finally a friend who spoke English pointed to my tob and said that the color was upsetting the chickens.
Again with the shrug, but the friend continued and said that I would have to leave the area, I was scaring the chickens.
Nice.
Apparently (don't judge me you people who already know this) they won't lay eggs when they get really scared of something. Friday, that something was me.
Rejected, by chickens.