Monday February 14, 2011
2011 A-Dollar-A-Day-Challenge
I woke up this morning around 6:30 ish and immediately my mind began to churn with thoughts about the coming day. Any other day I would have reached for my phone to check the time, then probably rolled over to catch another hour of sleep. But today there wasn’t a phone to grab. I sat up and removed my mosquito net from around my bed and swung my legs around to touch my bare feet to the floor. No flip-flops today. I sat there for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. I am such a routine girl; even here in Africa I go through the motions of morning grooming. You never really think of looking at yourself in a mirror as a luxury. There was no deodorant to apply, no body spray, no tweezers, no lotion, no Q-tip, and no toothbrush. I said to myself, “Okay, check… what next?” I guess I will put my clothes on and be on my way. That wasn’t a hard process either with only one outfit to choose from. It was time for the dreaded outdoor toilet… the one where I always seem to pee on my feet. You would think being a country girl and all would help with this, but not so much. Returning from the toilet to the “western room” for the final time brought me into my present reality. As I picked up my Nakumatt bag with all my belongings and closed the door behind me, I was determined to embrace this lifestyle. I could already hear my tummy telling me that it preferred the PB & J sandwich. Instead I reached for all that was available… a tin cup of tea with milk… no sugar. I drank slowly today, not because it was too hot, but because I knew it would have to last till lunch. After morning tea we collected out 20-liter cans and headed barefoot to the spring. I recall the pain on the bottoms of my tender feet as we walked the short 10-minute walk to the water. When we arrived many others gathered to do their daily washing and fetching. We fetched our 20 liters each and hiked back up to the dirt road from the spring below. Many curious bystanders looked on as these 2 wazungu (white people) attempted to strap water to their backs. Let’s just say it was an epic failure. Lacey opted to try carrying the water on her head, as did I. Her arms were not quite long enough to hold it on her head so she had to switch to carrying it on her back again. I was able to go the distance and even greet people along the way, but it was tough. My neck and arms were exhausted but I must say that my feet were not so tender on the way home. It’s amazing how quickly you mind shifts from one pain to another. I couldn’t help but compare this revelation to the vicious cycle of poverty, where a greater pain relieves the lesser pain, until the pain becomes completely unbearable. Then you just become numb, helpless, and hopeless. So so sad.
As we were struggling to carry the water we really drew an audience of children and adults alike wondering what in the world these 2 white girls were doing trying to carry 20 liters of water a mile barefoot. It actually made me sick when a kid looked at me and asked me to give him something because of the color of my skin. Here I am trying to understand the painful depths of poverty and now he wants a sweet that I don’t have. Not that I ever gave sweets before, but now I couldn’t if I wanted to. We finally made it back to Tumaini already exhausted and weak. The greetings we received from the teachers encouraged me to keep going and they kept asking if we needed assistance. We took the next few minutes to wash our clothes with our bar of soap and then journaled a bit before it was time to report to the school for the reading program. My stomach was growling at me most of the morning, but we put off lunch until 2:30 pm. I was excited to have the ugali but quickly realized it wouldn’t make much of a difference. It was nice to chew, but the foreknowledge that it would be a full 24 hours until I was given the opportunity to chew again was overwhelming. It’s so hard to decide if you want to eat it fast or slow. Fast is probably more filling but slow you get to “enjoy” it a bit more. After our late lunch we helped sort books and then went for a walk. It felt like walking on sand paper. With every step I was dreading the next hoping that my feet would eventually become numb to the pain… they didn’t. When we arrived back at Tumaini around 4pm (I know this because that’s the time the kids are dismissed from school and we had met some along the road) my feet were on fire and I couldn’t stand one more idol moment to think about my hunger. My hands needed something to do. I went to the orphanage and sewed buttonholes onto the uniforms. For a moment I had forgotten about my humble circumstance. I was busy and I liked it. It made me think about all those people who walk around town trying to sell random things. I’m sure they never aspired to sell junk on the side of the road. My guess is that they are not even that interested in selling much at all. I think it’s more likely that they just need something to do to forget about the hunger or the pain. I’ve heard it said a million times by that guy just outside my matatu (taxi) window, “please I’m hungry… buy from me these things.” Now I’m not so naive to think that all 100 guys that pitch me this line on any given day in the city are legit or that they don’t drink their earnings away on illegal homemade brew, but to some this is a true statement… they have no idea when they will have enough money for their next meal, so walking around town gives them something to do to ease the hunger and maybe just maybe earn them enough change for their next meal… now I am humbled.
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