JUST AN ORDINARY DAY
23.8.03
When the faint light of dawn reaches the hill behind the house, cockerels start their morning concert and the neighbour his woodcutting. I turn my back to the sounds, pretending I cannot hear. But it is not worth pretending, my hearing is still quite acute and before long I crawl out from my blue nest. It is the best bed in the world, and so say all of us…..
This morning a little lizard slipped out of there and few days earlier when I was going to bed, I found a mouse waiting for me. I do think sometimes that it would be nice to share a bed with someone, but I don’t mean mice or lizards.
Mornings are getting warmer and I don’t need to pull fleece over my nightie any more when getting up. Babies are still wearing their woolly hats though, and many people are clinging to their coats. But I don’t need one, the sun is warm already at eight o’clock when I start climbing the hill and marching towards Misesa. After a mile or so, the road turns dusty and yellow powder is slowly covering my feet, arms, face. But there is no dust on the slopes of Soche Hill and the fresh wind is blowing the dust away and cooling the effects of the warming sun. The path is narrow, winding between the bushes. I am plodding on, greeting everyone on the way and informing the curious about my destination. Some women are digging sand from the slopes. I am hoping they are more careful than the 3 women last year, who were buried under a sand avalanche. Woman after woman is passing me, carrying firewood. It is breaking my heart. Soon these hills will be empty. Are my briquettes going to be ready quickly enough to save even one tree?
Soon I will reach Joseph’s house and we shall continue the journey together. Joseph is a pastor in the Pentecostal church, but working voluntarily at COPRED. He is full of information and I like talking to him as it is very educational for me. Today we are talking about teeth. I am constantly wondering how Africans can have such strong white teeth although they seem to be gnawing sugarcane most of the time and only the wealthy ones can afford the luxury of a toothbrush. ‘Yes, I have never been to a dentist’ says Joseph, splashing a white smile. "People usually go to a dentist only if a tooth has to be removed. My brother is a dentist. The only thing he does is pulling teeth out." I am amazed. "How long he had to study to do that?" I ask, thinking that maybe few months would be enough for such a limited task. "Four years", tells Joseph. Four years and wasn’t taught how to do a filling. …or maybe nobody here needs a filling. There are times when I wish I was an African.
Drumming on the other side of the valley is telling us about an initiation ceremony. Whether it is Kumazi ceremony for the boys reaching puberty or Chinamwali for the girls at the same age or even Jando celebrating the firstborn, the sound does not tell. However, after couple of miles, I find myself in the middle of Chinamwali. Women are dancing in a circle surrounded by curious children and 7 teenage girls are sitting on the ground, staring the soil, looking serious. I am looking for assurance from Joseph: "They haven’t been circumcised, have they?" "Not here", he assures me, "not in a Christian village, in Muslim villages it could happen". My relief is apparent. Circumcision for women is an unbelievably horrible custom and I am glad these girls haven’t been forced to experience that torture. Instead, for the previous 7 days, they have been ‘camping’ beside a river, being advised about adulthood and marriage, as well as being ‘warned about men’ by elderly women. Chinamwali would be a perfect forum for talking about HIV/AIDS, but I wonder how well the advising grandmothers even know the facts. I even wonder how clearly this ‘warning about men’ (Joseph’s words) is given. Most women and even more so young girls don’t know that they can say ‘NO’. They are constantly sexually exploited and in our catchment area for instance, 34% of women are girls who have dropped from school and have a child, but no husband or employment. Thirty four percent!
People in the village are waiting, but where are all the Youth Club members who were supposed to play football and give me a chance to take some photos for Bob? Last time they were at a funeral, now they celebrate Chinamwali. I am in Africa.
I had asked children to come and they haven’t failed me. We are drawing together. It is obvious that some children have never had a pencil in their hand. I am holding a little hand and we create some lines on paper together. Adults want to draw as well and even a teenage girl, suffering from malaria, want a pen and paper. She had arrived in the hope that I could help, but I have only one painkiller tablet in my bag. It will not kill the parasites, maybe not even the pain.
The little ones learned three English words: Sun, tree, house and then is time for more:
‘Right arm in, right arm out….shake it all about’. It is quite a lot to learn in one go, but the joy is immeasurable and happy giggles and occasional ‘hokey, cokey’ can be heard far away on the road where I am returning home, carrying 2 huge pawpaws, a present from the Chairlady.
On the way back I stop at Joseph’s house. No food ready for hungry Joseph, but he understands: ‘My wife is at the Chief’s house, doing the hair of Mrs Chief. " It has taken longer than expected and 2 women are waiting for their hair - do here as well. I am thinking of my unruly mane and suggest that maybe Mrs Joseph should pay some attention to my hair as well. That causes a hilarious laugh: ‘It is too slippery’ they all claim, feeling the texture of my silky head. As nothing can be done to my hair, I am preparing to continue my journey: "But Madam, when are you coming to our village? We have many orphans, elderly, poor…."
One ordinary day is closing down soon. I will go and check if there is anybody waiting for me in my bed…
Good night,
Teli