Our mission here is to accompany the people. Everything that the Passionist Volunteers stand for is accompaniment, but I’m not sure I really understand it. Accompaniment is spending time with the people, ‘walking with the crucified of today’ (if you want to use the Passionist jargon) and I understand this. We spend a lot of time just talking and hanging out. So much so that sometimes I wonder what we are doing. We go to the Casa and chat and tell stories with the internos. We go to meetings of representatives who have bible studies once or twice a week. We visit house after house after house just catching from week to week. And so yes, I guess we accompany—but we have been told that our program is not a project based program. And so here is my question, when does accompaniment start sharing the stage with projects?
Accompaniment by itself in our program is confusing to me. If we spend the year accompanying and develop the greatest friendships with these people and then we leave, what we have accomplished? Have we simply developed a wonderful friendship that must end with our departure? Or even if we have showed them that there is someone out there who cares, then we leave. So what does accompaniment by itself do? Now don’t get me wrong, I am a huge supported of accompaniment. I do not want to be the white Westerner who comes in and tells the people of Talanga what they need. No, that is not why I came here. But our program says that we must accompany first and then start projects from the needs that we have discovered in our relationships with people. It makes sense, but practically it’s a little different. When we go to aldeas and we say we are simply there to spend time with them or make friends with them, they look at us a little strange. Gringos only come to these lands if they are here to do something—aka build a school, go on a medical brigade and so forth. (Side note: There is nothing wrong with these things and they are desperately needed in many of these communities.) And so there we are the gringos offering friendship and understanding…or at least trying to.
And so we walk with the crucified, the poor, the sick of today. Yes, it sounds so saintly—but hardly. Will I ever be able to feel the suffering or truly walk side by side in the sufferings of someone who has AIDS? Will I ever be able to understand what it means to live in one bedroom, one kitchen home with three kids and two parents far away from civilization? Will I ever be able to feel the pain of the women who I visit on my sick visits? I wish I could say yes, but I don’t know whether in all honesty I will ever be able to. I can try—and I do, I try to put myself in their shoes but its hard when I know that though I might struggle, I will be home in a year to comfort and wealth. William Carlos Williams once said, “I try to put myself in the shoes of others. We’re completely lost in our own world—egoists! Or maybe we’re locked into ourselves, and even though we want to break out, we can’t seem to do it. It takes someone else to help us, a person who breaks in or has a way of letting us out. Or we stumble into some moment, some situation, that wakes us up, gets us enough off track to open up our eyes, our ears, our musty minds.” Maybe I am still waiting for my stumble.
And then my third question is if we are walking with the crucified of today, when do we stop and help them carry their cross? If any of my family were in the situations that half of the people we work with are in, I would drop everything to help them, to carry their cross. And so when do we do that with the people we meet? And can we carry the cross for the hundreds of people we will work with and have been working with? You can only see someone suffer for so long and become friends with them or accompanying them just makes that problem even more acute. And so this is my obstacle. I have accompanied and now I want to do. I want to stop watching and walking with the suffering, and instead work with the suffering to empower them. Have I reached the point where I understand their sufferings? I don’t think so and I don’t think I ever will, but maybe my stumble will come.
Monday, October 29, 2007
One of my favorites
I want you to meet Gladys. Gladys is an interno at the Casa Pasionista and the past two weeks I have visited the Casa, she has not been there. Instead, she has been in Tegucigalpa for surgery and then recovery, but her story does not start nor end here. And in all honesty I do not know her story, but I can tell what I have shared with her and what she has shared with me so far.
Gladys is a little lady. She is shorter than me, but seems to be even smaller in the way that she carries herself. The bottom half of her face and neck are badly scarred from a fire where she tried to take her life. She is quiet and shy and will only talk if spoken to. She is gentle and for many, I think, it would be easy to forget her presence.
The first day we visited the Casa, I don’t remember talking to her—I don’t remember talking to anyone because at that point my Spanish was, well, non-existent and my confidence at zero. But, as we were leaving, she took my hand and asked me when we were coming back, I didn’t know so I said that and then Amy told me the word for soon and I realized the potentiality of what could become of our relationships with the internos. In the next handful of visits, I may have spoken to her once or twice, but the easily more extroverted and dominant characters in the Casa overshadowed her. But, then Tyler and I went to the Casa a little over a month ago. After eating with them, Tyler went to the bridge to help the guys with some repair maintenance and I went into the TV room to watch the soap operas with the ladies. Well, one lady Danylla left after about 15 minutes to go see her children and then it was me and Gladys. We chatted a little about the soap and then another one started and she made it clear she didn’t like it. (It’s called The Clone—and its as cheesy as it sounds). I didn’t know what to do—I didn’t know what to talk about and I didn’t want her to think that I didn’t care. Thank God, I had decided to bring some photos of all of you guys and so I asked if she wanted to see them. This started a 45 minute conversation. Despite language barriers and lives full of very different experiences, we became friends in the conversation. I shared with her the stories of college friends and she shared with me photos of excursions to the local restaurant. She showed me pictures of her three children (two of who live at the orphanage) and I showed her pictures of my family. In that 45 minutes, though we came from different countries and with different lives, our lives came together and a friendship was formed.
Her father was very sick and had to go to the hospital for a stomach ulcer. He needed surgery, but had to wait because he didn’t have enough money. She was worried and didn’t have a way to get to Tegus apart from if Puri took her. Her father is still very sick and her family doesn’t have the money to help him. Gladys was in the hospital for reconstructive surgery for her face and neck, but the day of the surgery she had to leave because there were no beds available. This is in the main hospital in Tegucigalpa—one of the largest in the country.
I like her. I like that she is quiet and has a slightly Eeyore-like personality. I like that when I’m at the Casa and I see her, I feel a sense of calm, of companionship. She has been there for years and years and there is something intriguing and warming about her. I like her and I think she might like me and I look forward to what friendship will hopefully blossom between us.
Gladys is a little lady. She is shorter than me, but seems to be even smaller in the way that she carries herself. The bottom half of her face and neck are badly scarred from a fire where she tried to take her life. She is quiet and shy and will only talk if spoken to. She is gentle and for many, I think, it would be easy to forget her presence.
The first day we visited the Casa, I don’t remember talking to her—I don’t remember talking to anyone because at that point my Spanish was, well, non-existent and my confidence at zero. But, as we were leaving, she took my hand and asked me when we were coming back, I didn’t know so I said that and then Amy told me the word for soon and I realized the potentiality of what could become of our relationships with the internos. In the next handful of visits, I may have spoken to her once or twice, but the easily more extroverted and dominant characters in the Casa overshadowed her. But, then Tyler and I went to the Casa a little over a month ago. After eating with them, Tyler went to the bridge to help the guys with some repair maintenance and I went into the TV room to watch the soap operas with the ladies. Well, one lady Danylla left after about 15 minutes to go see her children and then it was me and Gladys. We chatted a little about the soap and then another one started and she made it clear she didn’t like it. (It’s called The Clone—and its as cheesy as it sounds). I didn’t know what to do—I didn’t know what to talk about and I didn’t want her to think that I didn’t care. Thank God, I had decided to bring some photos of all of you guys and so I asked if she wanted to see them. This started a 45 minute conversation. Despite language barriers and lives full of very different experiences, we became friends in the conversation. I shared with her the stories of college friends and she shared with me photos of excursions to the local restaurant. She showed me pictures of her three children (two of who live at the orphanage) and I showed her pictures of my family. In that 45 minutes, though we came from different countries and with different lives, our lives came together and a friendship was formed.
Her father was very sick and had to go to the hospital for a stomach ulcer. He needed surgery, but had to wait because he didn’t have enough money. She was worried and didn’t have a way to get to Tegus apart from if Puri took her. Her father is still very sick and her family doesn’t have the money to help him. Gladys was in the hospital for reconstructive surgery for her face and neck, but the day of the surgery she had to leave because there were no beds available. This is in the main hospital in Tegucigalpa—one of the largest in the country.
I like her. I like that she is quiet and has a slightly Eeyore-like personality. I like that when I’m at the Casa and I see her, I feel a sense of calm, of companionship. She has been there for years and years and there is something intriguing and warming about her. I like her and I think she might like me and I look forward to what friendship will hopefully blossom between us.
Photo Details
Okay this has taken a lot longer than expected, but I’m sure you are used to that by now from me! These are some of my favorite photos from the last month and though the pictures are nice in themselves, the stories behind them are better.
1. Munchkin in a Tree: Meet Fernando. He’s one of my favorites. He lives in Terrero Colorado and he’s seven years old. When we went to Terrero a couple of weeks ago, we spent about an hour at his house mainly because he’s ridiculously funny. Beside his house is this tree and it’s full of these very sour oranges. Here, he is climbing to pick fruit for us.
2. A Little Help from a Tall Gringo: Once Fernando figured out that getting the fruit from the top of the tree was a little too far for his short arms, Matt stepped in to help out. If you can, zoom in on Fernando’s face or just take a close look. He has the biggest smile on his face and I can’t help but smile when I see it.
3. A Forest Adventure: On one of our free days, we ventured to La Tigra, the first national park in Honduras. We trekked through mile after mile of what seemed like uncharted territory and here is the team disappearing into more of the forest.
4. Our Reward: And this was our destination for an hour and half trek. We had climbed up walls, jumped over roots bigger than hippopotamuses, and walked past leaves bigger than my head. And it was all worth it.
5. The Quinze: For the big Independence Day, the kids dressed up in dancers costume to parade through the streets. This is one of the girls who goes to our nightly community meeting. I love this photo.
6. Through a Fence: Back at la Tigra, one of the many beautiful views but through a wire fence.
7. Beautiful Eyes: And these following photos are all from the Independence Day celebrations. Many of the children dress up in Indigenous clothes like this little boy.
8. Indigenous Girl
9. Little, little Red Riding Hood
10. Mi hermanita: Bessie is my little sister in my Honduran family. She is quirky and lovable. And for the most part, she makes me laugh. She is seven years old and is so quick. She is part of the radio show I do every Saturday morning and she is in charge of the agenda and being the MC.
11. Indigenous girl
12. Little Soldiers
13. Love of my life: This is the little boy, Fernando, from Terrero Colorado.
14. A Quick Nap: Ha-ha! Matt and I were leaving Tegucigalpa and in the middle of rush hour traffic, we saw this man taking a nap in the bed of a pick up truck. The air around him is surrounded with pollution and dust. But, I think he was in a different world of dreams.
15. Happy Spectators: For the day of the children, festivities of piñatas, candy, soda, and professors who are MCs for the day ensued. This is Rubi and her little sister. They are watching Prof. Carlos play a game called Chicharon (pork rinds) where you have to answer every question with Chicharon. It’s very funny.
16. Love of my life Part Two: And more Fernando. The Mayor’s office came to Terrero Colorado the day after day of the children and brought with them three piñatas. Here is Fernando with the remnants of the first piñata on his head!
17. Los Hombres: Matt and Tyler pose for a stunning photo in front of the basilica of Suyapa, the biggest basilica in Central America. We spent a day with Alex and Puri from the Casa showing us the sights of their city.
18. Me: I decided these looked like the perfect place for a reenactment of singing in the rain. It made me smile
19. Rain Friends: Nasa and I decided to venture out in the rain to go get icecream with Amy. It was pouring….like crazy so I have my rain boots on and Nasa has my fleece. It was the most fun ice cream adventure so far.
20. Oso: This is our dog—he only looks this cute when you give him a bath. He has since grown quite a bit and is about to grow bigger than this bucket. We have to give him baths more often than not because he gets lots of ticks. Last week, we pulled out over 20 ticks…yuck, yuck!
21. Sight for Sore Eyes: I love this photo. We went to Yuscaran on our free day last month and it was a beautiful little cobbled street town. We found this deserted, decaying building that was home to an impromptu football game—and home to this beautiful sight.
22. Gringos in Yuscaran: My teammates in Yuscaran in front of one of the colorful trucks that transport everything across Honduras.
1. Munchkin in a Tree: Meet Fernando. He’s one of my favorites. He lives in Terrero Colorado and he’s seven years old. When we went to Terrero a couple of weeks ago, we spent about an hour at his house mainly because he’s ridiculously funny. Beside his house is this tree and it’s full of these very sour oranges. Here, he is climbing to pick fruit for us.
2. A Little Help from a Tall Gringo: Once Fernando figured out that getting the fruit from the top of the tree was a little too far for his short arms, Matt stepped in to help out. If you can, zoom in on Fernando’s face or just take a close look. He has the biggest smile on his face and I can’t help but smile when I see it.
3. A Forest Adventure: On one of our free days, we ventured to La Tigra, the first national park in Honduras. We trekked through mile after mile of what seemed like uncharted territory and here is the team disappearing into more of the forest.
4. Our Reward: And this was our destination for an hour and half trek. We had climbed up walls, jumped over roots bigger than hippopotamuses, and walked past leaves bigger than my head. And it was all worth it.
5. The Quinze: For the big Independence Day, the kids dressed up in dancers costume to parade through the streets. This is one of the girls who goes to our nightly community meeting. I love this photo.
6. Through a Fence: Back at la Tigra, one of the many beautiful views but through a wire fence.
7. Beautiful Eyes: And these following photos are all from the Independence Day celebrations. Many of the children dress up in Indigenous clothes like this little boy.
8. Indigenous Girl
9. Little, little Red Riding Hood
10. Mi hermanita: Bessie is my little sister in my Honduran family. She is quirky and lovable. And for the most part, she makes me laugh. She is seven years old and is so quick. She is part of the radio show I do every Saturday morning and she is in charge of the agenda and being the MC.
11. Indigenous girl
12. Little Soldiers
13. Love of my life: This is the little boy, Fernando, from Terrero Colorado.
14. A Quick Nap: Ha-ha! Matt and I were leaving Tegucigalpa and in the middle of rush hour traffic, we saw this man taking a nap in the bed of a pick up truck. The air around him is surrounded with pollution and dust. But, I think he was in a different world of dreams.
15. Happy Spectators: For the day of the children, festivities of piñatas, candy, soda, and professors who are MCs for the day ensued. This is Rubi and her little sister. They are watching Prof. Carlos play a game called Chicharon (pork rinds) where you have to answer every question with Chicharon. It’s very funny.
16. Love of my life Part Two: And more Fernando. The Mayor’s office came to Terrero Colorado the day after day of the children and brought with them three piñatas. Here is Fernando with the remnants of the first piñata on his head!
17. Los Hombres: Matt and Tyler pose for a stunning photo in front of the basilica of Suyapa, the biggest basilica in Central America. We spent a day with Alex and Puri from the Casa showing us the sights of their city.
18. Me: I decided these looked like the perfect place for a reenactment of singing in the rain. It made me smile
19. Rain Friends: Nasa and I decided to venture out in the rain to go get icecream with Amy. It was pouring….like crazy so I have my rain boots on and Nasa has my fleece. It was the most fun ice cream adventure so far.
20. Oso: This is our dog—he only looks this cute when you give him a bath. He has since grown quite a bit and is about to grow bigger than this bucket. We have to give him baths more often than not because he gets lots of ticks. Last week, we pulled out over 20 ticks…yuck, yuck!
21. Sight for Sore Eyes: I love this photo. We went to Yuscaran on our free day last month and it was a beautiful little cobbled street town. We found this deserted, decaying building that was home to an impromptu football game—and home to this beautiful sight.
22. Gringos in Yuscaran: My teammates in Yuscaran in front of one of the colorful trucks that transport everything across Honduras.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Quick and Short.....
I am working on a update about the photos I posted....so it will be up soon. And Im working on some entries. Life has gotten a little crazy and finding the time to sit down and write things and actually think about them before I write just seems to be impossible. But....soon...like in the next three or four days there will be an explanation of photos and hopefully some interesting things for you guys to read!!!
Thanks for the comments...they mean the world to me and they keep me going :)
Thanks for the comments...they mean the world to me and they keep me going :)
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
A Hard Morning
Every Sunday morning, we awake early and walk up to the Church to catch the end of the 7am mass. After the majority of parishioners have emptied out of the Church, a trail of little, old ladies with small white bags tied around their necks filtered out from the altar and pick up one of us to accompany them on their way. These are the ministers of the Eucharist who bring communion to those unable or incapable of going to Church. Last week, I walked with a lady named Nohemia and went to three houses. Hands down, this was one of the harder things I have had to do in Honduras.
Nohemia and I walked together along the streets and stopped by the first house home to Dona Reina, an elderly lady who was unable to get to Church for the Eucharist. Could she have made it to the Church? Maybe…probably. But the next house was a different matter. Well, it wasn’t truly a house. We continued walking down the main street and came to what looked like a pretty well off house. Once we had walked through the front gates, I realized that this wasn’t a house, but a courtyard with multiple rooms surrounding it. I am still not sure whether it was a nursing home or a hospice. Nevertheless, we entered into the first room on the right to the room of Dona Christina. And this is where I could feel myself mentally starting to crumble. In a good sized room were two beds and in one twin bed lay a tiny, miniature lady. Curled as tightly into the fetal position as possible, the bed looked enormous in comparison to her small body. She looked fragile and uncomfortable. I cannot even think of something to compare to her to describe how tiny she appeared. Once we had entered her room, her aide scooped her up like a small child and placed her in a padded wheel chair. To unfold her ninety two year old brittle bones, her aide pulled forcefully at her legs so that they were only slightly tucked up to her body and shoved a pillow behind her bed. As I introduced myself, I was told that she couldn’t speak, but her eyes warily eyed me as a stranger in her world. Nohemia proceeded to say the abbreviated version of mass as this little lady sat fragile, scared, and seemingly completely unaware of every thing. And that’s where I began to crumble, this old lady was alive, but was she really? She wore adult diapers and could not do anything for herself. Even when the Eucharist was given to her, a tiny piece of the host was given and even this large crumb had to be put in her mouth and then her aide had to use her fingers to help Dona Christina swallow it. Her days are probably spent curled tightly in the fetal position hoping for what? Looking forward to what? This tiny old lady was smaller than Nanny and in my head and in my heart, I said a prayer of thanksgiving that Nanny died before getting to this stage. Selfish…probably. But, I don’t know whether I can say that I would rather be alive in the state of Dona Christina than dead. This all sounds so harsh, but it was the sadness and emptiness of this lady that made me physically feel ill and made me mentally have no idea what to think or what to hope for for her life.
As if this visit was not enough to label the morning hard, we then continued on to one last house. Earlier in the week, the sister of Matt’s host mom had passed away and Matt and Tyler had gone to the appropriate rituals and such surrounding the death. On this Sunday morning, the death of this thirty year old lady was far from my mind and my heart could still not get over the previous visit. We arrived with Matt and his minister and Nohemia and I at a house that was near to where the wake had been. When we entered the house, two ladies met us and went to get there mother. From behind a curtain emerged a small, elderly lady of about seventy or eighty wearing a scarf over her head and wrapped up in an oversized cardigan. As soon as one of the ministers went over to greet her, cries of pain and grief filled the room. She was the mother of the deceased lady and the two ladies who had greeted us were the sisters. The sadness and despair that surrounded this room was so poignant. I did not know the connection between these women until after the visit, but without a doubt, I could feel the pain and sorrow like a sharp knife at my heart. The elderly lady struggled to sit down and as the abbreviated mass started, tears streamed down her face. She mopped at the tears with the corners of her scarf. I don’t think there is anything sadder than seeing an elderly person cry. Something about the whole picture is just so painful and I keep using the word ‘pain’ because I cannot think of any other way to explain it. At the sign of peace, a usually joyful time, every woman in the house had tears in her eyes and the grief of losing someone way too early in life was sharply felt by all.
A hard morning.
Nohemia and I walked together along the streets and stopped by the first house home to Dona Reina, an elderly lady who was unable to get to Church for the Eucharist. Could she have made it to the Church? Maybe…probably. But the next house was a different matter. Well, it wasn’t truly a house. We continued walking down the main street and came to what looked like a pretty well off house. Once we had walked through the front gates, I realized that this wasn’t a house, but a courtyard with multiple rooms surrounding it. I am still not sure whether it was a nursing home or a hospice. Nevertheless, we entered into the first room on the right to the room of Dona Christina. And this is where I could feel myself mentally starting to crumble. In a good sized room were two beds and in one twin bed lay a tiny, miniature lady. Curled as tightly into the fetal position as possible, the bed looked enormous in comparison to her small body. She looked fragile and uncomfortable. I cannot even think of something to compare to her to describe how tiny she appeared. Once we had entered her room, her aide scooped her up like a small child and placed her in a padded wheel chair. To unfold her ninety two year old brittle bones, her aide pulled forcefully at her legs so that they were only slightly tucked up to her body and shoved a pillow behind her bed. As I introduced myself, I was told that she couldn’t speak, but her eyes warily eyed me as a stranger in her world. Nohemia proceeded to say the abbreviated version of mass as this little lady sat fragile, scared, and seemingly completely unaware of every thing. And that’s where I began to crumble, this old lady was alive, but was she really? She wore adult diapers and could not do anything for herself. Even when the Eucharist was given to her, a tiny piece of the host was given and even this large crumb had to be put in her mouth and then her aide had to use her fingers to help Dona Christina swallow it. Her days are probably spent curled tightly in the fetal position hoping for what? Looking forward to what? This tiny old lady was smaller than Nanny and in my head and in my heart, I said a prayer of thanksgiving that Nanny died before getting to this stage. Selfish…probably. But, I don’t know whether I can say that I would rather be alive in the state of Dona Christina than dead. This all sounds so harsh, but it was the sadness and emptiness of this lady that made me physically feel ill and made me mentally have no idea what to think or what to hope for for her life.
As if this visit was not enough to label the morning hard, we then continued on to one last house. Earlier in the week, the sister of Matt’s host mom had passed away and Matt and Tyler had gone to the appropriate rituals and such surrounding the death. On this Sunday morning, the death of this thirty year old lady was far from my mind and my heart could still not get over the previous visit. We arrived with Matt and his minister and Nohemia and I at a house that was near to where the wake had been. When we entered the house, two ladies met us and went to get there mother. From behind a curtain emerged a small, elderly lady of about seventy or eighty wearing a scarf over her head and wrapped up in an oversized cardigan. As soon as one of the ministers went over to greet her, cries of pain and grief filled the room. She was the mother of the deceased lady and the two ladies who had greeted us were the sisters. The sadness and despair that surrounded this room was so poignant. I did not know the connection between these women until after the visit, but without a doubt, I could feel the pain and sorrow like a sharp knife at my heart. The elderly lady struggled to sit down and as the abbreviated mass started, tears streamed down her face. She mopped at the tears with the corners of her scarf. I don’t think there is anything sadder than seeing an elderly person cry. Something about the whole picture is just so painful and I keep using the word ‘pain’ because I cannot think of any other way to explain it. At the sign of peace, a usually joyful time, every woman in the house had tears in her eyes and the grief of losing someone way too early in life was sharply felt by all.
A hard morning.
Water
Before living here, I have never ever given water two seconds of my time. It was a given and always has been in my life. Running water has always been present and I would even venture to say that 95% of houses in both Charlotte and Marietta have running water or more. Being here has made me realize what a life giving source water truly is and how water days can be the highlights of my week and how toilets that work are wonderful.
Last week made me aware of all of this and so I’ll fill you in on our week of water wackiness. However, some foundation needs to be set here. Water arrives at our house on Mondays and Fridays. When I say it arrives, I mean we actually have water that comes out of the taps and sometimes the shower heads from about 8 in the morning to 2 in the afternoon. Sundays and Thursdays are what we call bonus days. Yes, on the bonus days, after the whole town has taken what they needed, any left over water surprises us and gives us something to be extra thankful about. On the days when water does not come, we got to the pilla or the big bathtub of water in the back yard and fill up buckets to shower with and wash dishes. So that is our water situation.
Two weeks, we chose not to fill up the pilla on Monday because we needed to clean it. Cleaning the pilla is an adventure in itself you have to empty it, get in it and scrub with a big brush, and then rinse, and then fill it up again. Well, when Friday arrived, our pilla was very very low on water…and we waited and waited and waited for water to arrive and well it never did. So with little water, we knew we would just have to wait till Monday for some more. At this point, the pilla that is about 4ft deep had probably less than a foot of water and for me to scoop water out of it, I literally had to rest my stomach on the edge and lean in so far that my tippy toes would not even touch the ground. Needless to say, we were all very ready for water to arrive. On Monday, water did not arrive until 10:30 or so and we were finally able to clean the pilla and fill it to about 2ft.
Monday also happened to be the days that both toilets decided not to work. A. This is not good at all….ever. B. This is especially not good in a country where the most common illness for foreigners is diarrhea and C. This is especially not good when flushing the toilet literally means pouring a bowl or two of water until it all trickles down. And so the toilets wouldn’t flush…both of them. We couldn’t figure out if there was a tank that was full or what was going on. Plumbing over here is quite confusing. Thank goodness for Fatima, a lady on our formation team who knows everything and anything, who told us that pouring a large amount of bleach would unclog the toilet. And it did…yay!
I am happy to say that today we have a pilla full of water because it has rained at least twice a day and most of the night for the past three days and that we have toilets that are fully functioning and flushing delightfully. Of course, two minutes after I wrote that, Tyler came in to tell us that in road construction they hit a large pipe and that we probably wont be getting water till next week….if that… I guess its one of those things that you don’t realize how lucky you are until you come close to running out of water and the toilet doesn’t work.
Last week made me aware of all of this and so I’ll fill you in on our week of water wackiness. However, some foundation needs to be set here. Water arrives at our house on Mondays and Fridays. When I say it arrives, I mean we actually have water that comes out of the taps and sometimes the shower heads from about 8 in the morning to 2 in the afternoon. Sundays and Thursdays are what we call bonus days. Yes, on the bonus days, after the whole town has taken what they needed, any left over water surprises us and gives us something to be extra thankful about. On the days when water does not come, we got to the pilla or the big bathtub of water in the back yard and fill up buckets to shower with and wash dishes. So that is our water situation.
Two weeks, we chose not to fill up the pilla on Monday because we needed to clean it. Cleaning the pilla is an adventure in itself you have to empty it, get in it and scrub with a big brush, and then rinse, and then fill it up again. Well, when Friday arrived, our pilla was very very low on water…and we waited and waited and waited for water to arrive and well it never did. So with little water, we knew we would just have to wait till Monday for some more. At this point, the pilla that is about 4ft deep had probably less than a foot of water and for me to scoop water out of it, I literally had to rest my stomach on the edge and lean in so far that my tippy toes would not even touch the ground. Needless to say, we were all very ready for water to arrive. On Monday, water did not arrive until 10:30 or so and we were finally able to clean the pilla and fill it to about 2ft.
Monday also happened to be the days that both toilets decided not to work. A. This is not good at all….ever. B. This is especially not good in a country where the most common illness for foreigners is diarrhea and C. This is especially not good when flushing the toilet literally means pouring a bowl or two of water until it all trickles down. And so the toilets wouldn’t flush…both of them. We couldn’t figure out if there was a tank that was full or what was going on. Plumbing over here is quite confusing. Thank goodness for Fatima, a lady on our formation team who knows everything and anything, who told us that pouring a large amount of bleach would unclog the toilet. And it did…yay!
I am happy to say that today we have a pilla full of water because it has rained at least twice a day and most of the night for the past three days and that we have toilets that are fully functioning and flushing delightfully. Of course, two minutes after I wrote that, Tyler came in to tell us that in road construction they hit a large pipe and that we probably wont be getting water till next week….if that… I guess its one of those things that you don’t realize how lucky you are until you come close to running out of water and the toilet doesn’t work.
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