Life Marches On

So hard to remember the highlights of the last month or so. I have sent about 22 days without American contact which does not count the less than 24 hour visit from my boss. Also, he is my boss.

This PORTO (foreigner) finally decided to roll-up her sleves and get to work. I planted a few trees and helped a group of women to plant a bunch of corn. I think they were amazed that a white woman could work that hard. I guess hard work is all relative as I was the youngest there by a good 15 years. But in all actually we got the old fashioned hoes out and prepared the land, dug the holes, carried water in buckets from nearby streams to fill the holes with water and the corn seeds. Not easy work! Luckily for the women, the corn is growning well as it is a major source of their income, as for my trees...weeeeellll, I will have to wait and see.

Rainy season has begun with a boom. Until yesterday it had rained every day for 12 days. What did this mean for me. At it’s worst it meant that I was running through the village in rushing water over my ankles. The disgusting part of this is that the goats, sheep and cows gladly roam the village and make their deposits at will. All of this “debris” was mixed in with the rushing water overtaking my sandals and lower legs. There was no avoiding it! Rainy season also means that I got to be reaquainted with my sleeping bag. As I just finished washing all my laundry in the river sheets and pillow cases included (I finally found the woman’s side) a huge storm hit and there I was carrying my wet laundry (10 shirts, 4 skirts, 4 bandanas and countless other items) home in a heavy bucket on my head.

I have a lot of work to do to perfect the carrying of heavy objects on my head. The most amusing head carrying trick is the smaller trees that the women carry after they chopped them down in the forest and use them for firewood for their “outdoor stove”. Often times you cannot deciper the tree from the person. The most outrageous siteing goes back to my first week in country when I saw a huge truck tire rolling along on a guy’s head. What a skill! I have much time to perfect this but currently am the butt of the communities jokes when it come to this topic. As I roll up to the water pump with my big bidon to be filled and attached to the back of my bike which usually requies the help of another to lift the “bungy cord” and stabilize the bike. “She has been here for 2 months and still uses that bike...!!”

After 22 days at site, I woke up at 6AM and knew it was time to go (I miss talking to my momma). I got a few pairs of “undergarmets” together and threw them in a sack with a bit of water and a small snack and ventured off on my 62k (37mile) bike ride to Labe. This adveture caused me to remember why Lelouma is so beautiful...it’s in a valley surrounded by mountains...most of which I had to push my bike up. Five long, tiring, blazing, windy yet rainless hours I arrived at the PC regional house....it was empty. The friendship that I had so badly needed was not here. Yikes, of course it is a random Monday but these minor details slipped my mind when I started off on my adventure. I scavanged the house for the phone number of the Americans who live here and work for NGOs. Thank God they were both in town and we had a lovely dinner of pizza and fries. Much deserved!