Saturday- April 21
Sitting in the dark
of my house. Just returned from the market where I ate bean cakes, made an
impulse buy of cloth that was purple and yellow (GO PANTHERS!).. and endured
the ‘white person’ chant by each and every child I passed. and now I sit with
sweat running off my face, the fan cutting in and out, but the internet connection
is good so other discomforts are disregarded.
I prolonged getting up this morning to go to lead yoga for a friend and
her kids.. she called me ten minutes before my alarm “We’re waiting for you.” Yes
I thought- I will be there at the time we decided- 6- not 530..ugh. I tried to
surpress the negative thoughts and have a decent session with her and the 5
middle school aged kids, once I got them calmed down enough to take my
breathing commands seriously. I took a light ride on a back road for my morning
workout; my legs were sore from yesterdays long run.
Spent the morning sweating
incessantly even after a very cold buck shower as it was hot by 7, without a
cloud in the sky. Stopped in at a local
health agent training (after 20 minutes of trying to find the group at three
different locations- disorder at its finest) and fought the urge of irritation;
why do we speak to these grown adults like they are children? Because that’s how
they’ve been trained, I realize. The
system, from the time they're little, beats into their head perfection; if you don’t
answer 100% correctly, you’re wrong and may be shamed for it. Thus, in my
opinion, it diminishes self confidence, creativity, and the nerve it takes to
answer a question with self-assurance. Frustration
at its finest for me; not to mention the beads of sweat soaking my dress. I looked through my planner and tried not to
be annoyed as a simple exercise of how to use a thermometer (these are not NEW
health agents!) takes over an hour.
Finally, a break and I bike 20 min home in the noon sun. Rinsing off with
a few scoops of water, but the relief from the heat only lasts momentarily. I
put on a light dress and enjoy a cold water I bought from the 2 stores in town
that have refrigerators. I read for a
bit then laid down inside where it's cooler, wrapped in a wet cloth, closing my
eyes, hoping for a breeze or for the power to return and my fan’s comfort. Tried not to count the minutes until 4, when the
daily heat torture subsides. Finally, rouse myself enough to prepare something
for lunch; cucumbers, eggs, and some tasty pesto some thoughtful someone sent
me.
Then it was off to
the market; it’s Saturday and the day people wait for all week- when there’s
actually something going on. Some
excitement to be a part of. Nima (Aposto’s
wife) helped me buy a basin for my new table I had made with a big hole in it
to replicate a ‘sink’- sick of doing the dishes on the ground. We wind our way
through the market; the sun is finally behind a cloud. Nima buys things to make the sauce (broiled
fish, sardines, tomato paste)- the
item in the Togolese meals- it’s all about the sauce. I don’t buy any of it because I don’t make
sauce. Instead I head to the stand where
a girl sells delicious sweet, fried bread. It’s my treat to myself each
Saturday afternoon. We sit and drink
tchouck- local fermented millet beer- at one of the stands that makes up the
border of the market. A woman passes by
with cloth (pagna) one uses to make outfits here. I think of how I was no good
at envisioning if a dress/shirt would look good on in the States. This is an
even larger challenge. You have to be able to look at a piece of fabric and decide
if it would make a pretty skirt or dress.
I’ve learned bright colors are great on dark skin; dark colors better on
lighter skin. I’ve had my fair share of failed attempts. But the excitement of the market has gotten
to my logic a bit and I stop the woman, attracted by a blue and black
style. “It’s nylon,” she tells me. “Is
that good?” I ask Nima, clueless. No, not like the cotton I’m wearing. She returns with a cotton variety. That’s how shopping works here. You sit and
send small children after something you want (more bean cakes), or the people
will bring things to you; everyone needs to make a few cents. Her second selection doesn’t impress me but
her attempt does and soon Nima and I are off to see her stand. Sure enough, the
yellow and purple fabric catches my eye. So much for this week’s budget.
And now here I sit,
waiting until the last possible moment to take a shower and cool off; in the
attempt to not sweat when I get into bed. Alas, I need to cover up soon –this dress
won’t cut it with the infringing mosquitoes (big, cool rainstorm Monday night- brought
much relief and joy..and many biting annoyances). The mice are scrounging
around above me; at least they’re not in my house—or at least that’s what I
think. And the ants. We’ve come to learn to live with each other. Or
more, I’ve given in to their tenacity.
We will live in harmony as I’m not willing to throw out MnM’s because
they’ve conquered another ziplock bag. So
I’ll either eat them or smush them one at a time as they crawl over me at my
desk and couch. Oh and the basin I bought at market; the one I’ve been waiting
weeks to buy, it’s too small for the hole the carpenter made. My fault, not his but cringing at the thought
of the non existent ‘return policy’ here… will have to hope the market mama who
sold it to me will remember my face (think I’ve got that one covered) and be
kind enough to allow me to exchange for a bigger size. Oh this life. Is it too
early to go to bed and start all over again tomorrow?
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