MONKEY TALES #3
(7/24/03)
MONKEY TALES #25
(3/13/04)
MONKEY TALES #24
(3/8/04)
MONKEY TALES #23
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MONKEY TALES #22
(2/5/04)
MONKEY TALES #21
(1/31/04)
MONKEY TALES #20
(12/22/03)
MONKEY TALES #19
(12/13/03)
MONKEY TALES #18
(12/6/03)
MONKEY TALES #17
(12/1/03)
MONKEY TALES #16
(11/22/03)
MONKEY TALES #15
(11/13/03)
MONKEY TALES #14
(10/24/03)
MONKEY TALES #13
(10/16/03)
MONKEY TALES #12
(10/11/03)
MONKEY TALES #11
(10/4/03)
MONKEY TALES #10
(9/27/03)
MONKEY TALES #9
(9/19/03)
MONKEY TALES #8.5
(9/13/03)
MONKEY TALES #8
(9/13/03)
MONKEY TALES #7
(8/21/03)
MONKEY TALES #6
(8/14/03)
MONKEY TALES #5
(8/8/03)
MONKEY TALES #4
(7/29/03)
MONKEY TALES #2
(6/29/03)
MONKEY TALES #1
(7/17/03)
"YO!"
(6/27/03)
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Mbolo (hello)! No class this afternoon
(it's a rariety, I shouldn't get used to it) means that I have plentiful
time to email, which I definitely need if I want to send an email longer
than 2 lines. Anywho, here we go.
1. Food rules my life, as most of you know, but especially here. Nothing
else can change the mood of a day more than good/bad culinary delights.
Therefore, I have some festive stories to share with you regarding this
topic. I've tried everything they've fed me so far, sometimes regretting
my decision in the wee hours of the morning. It was no exception last
week when they whipped the lid off a pot with great flourish to reveal
chicken feet. MINGIN'! All the little tendons and joints still worked,
the pads of the feet were all squishy, and there was no meat on them that
I could pretend to eat. Oh, how I suffered...
2. Continuing with the food topic, I would like to discuss manioc. As
you know, I love it and the rest of my group loathes it with a burning
passion. We had a "talent show" last week for Koula Moutou and
I was recruited for the manioc-eating contest where I competed with a
native women to down the stuff as fast as possible. *A word to the wise
if you ever feel inclined to try this at home...manioc is sticky and unswallowable
unless coated in something wet and greasy. Otherwise it just clumps into
a ball and you can't chew, let alone push the gluttunous mass down your
esophagus. I think this passage from "The Poisonwood Bible"
explains it perfectly: "It comes from a stupendous tuber, which the
women cultivate and dig from the ground, soak in hollowed-out logs and
boil. It has the nutritional value of a brown paper bag, with the added
bonus of traces of cyanide. Yet it fills the stomach. It cools into the
tasteless mass one might induce an American child to try once after a
long round of pulled-up noses and double-dog dares." And yet a day
without it and I feel depressed and lifeless...go figure.
3. Also tried a few more food offerings in the last week. Had the privilege
of tasting the cacao fruit (yes, the origin of all the worldly goodness
that is chocolate), tho we've all dubbed it the "intestinal mucous
fruit". The inside consists of a clod of goo-covered pits which resemble
innards and feel like sucking on a mucous wad (appetizing, I know). However,
oince you get used to it, the taste and sensation is rather pleasant,
I promise. Also, my body was going into dairy withdrawal, so I decided
to try the street food you're supposed to avoid with a 10-ft poll...lait
caille (translation: curdled milk). It's frozen in a little plastic baggie,
which you rip open in order to suck out the frozen lumpy goodness. To
me it tastes like peach yogurt, and since it's cold, 20 cents, and the
only dairy around, it was worth the risk (half our group has gotten horrific
diarrhea and half has been fine). I've eaten it 3 times so far with no
problems, so I'm going to continue to tempt the powers that be until I
become sicker than a dog.
4. This week in our Health classes, we've been learning about male and
female anatomy and physiology. I can handle it fine in English, but try
explaining fertilization and gametes in French. OY VEY. However, it's
been amusing, since we have all these charts and diagrams of the sex organs
in the front of the room and take turns placing the proper names in the
proper places. Clitoris, vas deferens, ovaries, and urethra...OH MY!
5. Let me just tell you that washing machines are a gift from God and
should be treated as such or I will hunt each and every one of you down
and make you handwash all your clothes for 4 weeks, as I've been doing.
Cleaning clothes for me involves a scrub brush, a bar of soap, and the
community pump. All the mamas within viewing range of the pump come out
to watch and laugh as I scrub away. I think I do fine, but inevitably
after 10 minutes of ceaseless laughter, they make me stop and take over
themselves...there's nothing I can do. And of course it takes 3 days for
everythign to dry since the air's so thick with humidity you have to move
it out of the way to breathe.
6. The other day I noticed that a tree near the house had been hacked
to bits, so that there were basically no branches left. When I asked why,
my Aunt Eleonore explained that they do that twice a year since they have
a problem with snakes entering the house via the tree branches and popping
out in the bedrooms weeks later. It's at times like that when I kinda
wished I had remained ignorant to such practices.
7. I had been flying so high and happy for weeks now, that I knew I was
boubd to crash and burn sometime soon. Sure enough, yesterday was the
lowest I've ever been since arriving. Nothing happened to spark it, but
I was just angry and annoyed with myself, Peace Corps, and Africa. I didn't
want to speak French, my family was beyond aggrivating, 2 massive roaches
appeared in my room, the way the people hear smell made me livid, and
I didn't pay attention in class but instead sat there seething. I just
wanted to be alone, but of course that's never possible here. However,
such an attitude is dangerous, because if you can't pull out of it soon
enough, you're done for. Thus, I did what I could...I spent 2 day's budget
on a chocolate bar, had my sisters give me a "salon hairwash"
at the pump upon returning home, and ate fresh papaya with dinner. Then
I retired to my room early (the roaches were still there) were I took
my laundry brush and systematically scrubbed myself raw--ritualistic cleansing
if you will--which as many of you know, is the most relaxing thing I can
do. I felt tons better and read/listened to music until I got tired. At
that point it didn't even bother me that I could hear the roaches climbing
over the walls and some animal knawing the wood in my ceiling from outside.
I become so upset because Africa is so much harder than I want to admit
to anyone, let alone myself. Every day is a struggle to keep my head above
water and usually I'm fine, but every once in a while when I think about
the commitment in front of me, I lose sight of the positive aspects and
start to sink. Eh, I'll figure out a happy balance eventually.
Alright, I'm outta here to procure a bean sandwich for dinner (heaven
in a baguette). Thank you to all the family and friends who have been
calling me and therefore keeping me sane...I can never convey my thanks
adequately enough. And to anyone who does NOT see the new Tomb Raider
tomorrow in honor of me, I WILL hunt you down and make you endure hours
of horrible African music videos. Peace, love, and sporadic sanity...
-Leah
P.S. By this time next week, I'll know where I'll be stationed!
P.P.S. Not trying to assume anything, but if anyone IS planning on sending
me something for my birthday, send it now. Unless it arrives here by the
end of staging, there's no promising that I'll be able to get to Libreville
to pick them up until XMAS time, if not later. Just an FYI.
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