K, I have abandoned the whole “keep it short thing.” This kills the record for longest blog ever by me. But I do not care. Hopefully it will give a better picture for people who are still curious about my lifestyle out here.
Friday, October 17?
I have been thinking for a while that I would be nice to list a couple of simple observations made here. I have painted a light picture of what life out here is like but I think I ought to include some of the things that are drastically different as well. I avoided this at first because the area really is not that ‘super crazy’. It actually fells quite normal. That being said, some of the different things can come a surprises. (I deleted some things from the original journaling though)
One of the first things I noted when I entered the village of Ingore was that clothing was less optional. This does not mean that everybody runs around naked. It does mean that women, if they feel it is too warm, may just chill outside with nothing covering their upper body. My neighbors frequently can be seen without shirts on, it is the same story for Titus’ semi neighbors. The most frequent practicer is the old lady who is the semi neighbor of Titus. She is a wonderful old lady. Titus decided to pay for her grandchildren’s education and as a payment she sweeps his driveway daily. He makes her put on her shirt for this. If shes not sweeping the driveway and the sun is out, it is pretty much a guarantee for her. I have gotten more and more used to it, although the first few times, I must admit I was quite surprised as I assumed this was a more ‘primal thing’ and Ingore has a road that runs though it (which somehow makes it more modern).
Clothing is also less optional for young kids. This is especially notable for the boys. They run around naked at the age of 4 or so without hesitation. Once on a car ride back from Bissau, the kid beside me jumped in without any clothes on and remained like that for a solid half hour.
Youngsters will often settle for what I would describe as slim tighty-whities. This basically means that they run about wearing the most minimal amounts of cloth perceivable that covers the essential body parts. If they do not have the luxuries of this small cloth, sometimes they will just wear a string around their waist. This does not cover much, but at least their wearing something?
Young people also die a lot more out here. An example could be found in the first few days of being in Ingore a child from the house a few doors down had died. The funeral precession (precession? Is that the right word, I cant figure out how to spell some of these odd words) walked passed the next afternoon, it was a sad sight.
Yet another thing that is different here involves the kids again. I will start with what happened yesterday as I walked to Titus’ house. I exited at the same time that the school ended. A couple of kids walked with me and before long they had grabbed my hands and there was soon about 8 kids all walking hand in hand along the dirt road. It was neat.
A white person is a very interesting thing for kids out here. If I am hanging out with the kids, practicing my language or just relaxing, it is not uncommon for someone to just grab my toe or stroke my arm. They are fascinated by my hairy arms and legs. My bindingly white skin also provides a mystery for the youngsters. When this is added to my immense size, it seem that I am just a ‘giant’ mystery to them.
As fascinating as I am, sometimes I think they are just a little too interested. Usually these thoughts come into my head when I am sitting near a window at a church service or just reading inside. While I do this, scores of kids will pile at the window trying to get a glimpse of the new spectacle. At church I fear this creates a bit of a distraction for me and those around me yet I am not functional enough in the language to politely tell them to go. Usually they lose interest in 10 minutes or so, if not the older of the kids will have the wisdom to notice that they should stop watching me and urge the others to move along.
I also must note that because the houses here have barred windows, it is pretty easy to make the connection between me and a zoo animal as the on lookers gather around to see the large, white skinned, red haired kid read a book.
Then again, a couple days later, a little kid was walking with her family and when she turned and saw me she ran up and said the equivalent of “uncle Steven!” in her language and grabbed my hand and walked the rest of the way to Titus’ house.
The touching of others is also far more acceptable around here. Although male and female do not mingle, the males I have noticed feel free to rest their head on another’s lap or hold hands. This means that extended handshakes are plentiful and are a thing that I had to get used to as a person will often just keep on gripping after a good 3 or 4 shakes. I have learned to casually stand there and let it happen, although once I remember reacting the Western way and did a nice wrist-twist maneuver to get out of the handshake only then realizing that he thought that it meant I did not want to talk to him.
The people here have a different concept of quiet. Where I come from, it is considered to be impolite to be all noisy and such while others are napping or studying. Here the rudeness of the situation does not even cross ones mind. I assume this has to do with the fact that there are no windows in the houses and the walls are all mud-brick and cement made. Silence is not a luxury these people have, and if you can not achieve silence why not be loud all the time?
I noticed this very early in my stay in Ingore. One time I remember was at night when I was trying to sleep and people hung out near my window and chatted up a storm in nice boisterous voices or there was the time that Kaluntan was yelling to the semi-neighbors right outside my window (also late at night).
The noise is continuous throughout the day, which can be aggravating but my best examples come from early morning experiences or late at night because this is when it seems to make the most sense for there to be a quiet time. I can accept the need be loud during the day but there needs to be silence at some time. My neighbors exemplify this perfectly. They will chat to the late house of the night (usually till about 10:30) with their thunderous voices and piercing laughter. In the morning they waste no time in starting with work. It is not uncommon to wake up early (yesterday it was at 5:50) to what sounds like the beating of a drum. What I now know is that this is the thumping of my neighbors pounding rice, preparing for it to be dried for when the sun comes out. Haza.
Oct 19
Showering here is a much colder experience. This is because I either draw the water from a bucket in my room or straight from the well. Although it is fun to shower in the outdoors and use the old school style of dropping a cup of water on your head, it would be nice if the water here was heated, but that would take far too much work. I have settled for occasionally putting water in a dark colored bucket a few hours before my shower so the sun heats it up a bit. This brings it to a nice semi warm temperature that I am happy with (in the two months of being here I have only been able to successfully do this once).
There is no city electricity here. Last year, the base in the capital city got 30 minutes of city power. For places like Ingore, city power remains a foreign technology. The main sources of power here are solar panels and generators and I have even seen a couple windmills kicking around. Titus’ house and the house I live in are powered by solar panels. Unfortunately, the lighting in my house does not work so I have had to settle for flashlights and my battery powered mini lamp. My laptop can survive for what I think is about 2 hours off the solar panel batteries. When this is combined with the 20 minutes of laptop battery life I can get a whopping 2 and a half hours a day of computer usage. Unfortunately, if I do that nobody can charge their phones and the school, who shares the electricity, is left powerless.
Oct 28
It is very likely that people, or at least a couple of people will remember me after I go. This is because there is official a little kid now named “Steven.” A kid named after me? Strange, I know, but if you look at it from their perspective it has its perks. It is customary for me to do something for them now. This is to buy a long brick of soap for the kid. This costs just under 1000 cfa. (no worries… the money works a little different here. Its actually less then $2.50). Titus laughed when he saw the boy because he frequently smiles like I apparently do.
Driving is a different experience all together here. Sure, it is the same vehicle, same gears, wheels and engine, but the rules have completely changed. They are not nice fixed rules like “stay between the lines and obey the stop signs” but rather “go where it is less bumpy and where you fit, and don’t hit thing or anybody while you do it.” They do not even have stop signs out here, and you can forget about stop lights as they need a little something called electricity. I think I can handle it though, a little more honking and a little more active paying attention and I should be alright. I think there was a missionary that has hit and killed and killed a kid in the past, so I can not take the driving thing lightly.
At the same time I am not afraid to “hit the road”, it sure beats riding in a Tooka-tooka, squished in a tiny car hoping there is no hole in the roof because when the pigs and goats tied on top urinate that means sheer trouble.
The roads are pretty wild too. Right now it is the end of the rainy season and I think this means that it is worse then usual. There are giant pot holes everywhere and sometimes the road breaks off into thousands of giant pot holes where the cars drive a little slower than walking speed. It gets a little crazier when there is no asphalt. Sometimes I think the truck is going to tip over because of the angles that we hit, but so far all four wheels have remained on the ground.
The worship style here is a little different. No electricity takes away chance of speakers which means less business up front. They do not have drum kits in Africa, and clearly electric guitars are out of the question. Usually there is an acoustic guitar near the front of the church and any number of people singing and clapping in the front. Usually it is about 3 or 4 but at some churches a solid 15 people will get up and lead.
Since they do not have many instruments, or perhaps because their sense of rhythm is much better then ours, their clapping styles are little different than what I am used to. Usually they do a triple clap. It is in a regular rhythm of a nice fast four clap but they do not execute on the fourth, they leave it in silence. Other times they alternate between rapid clap and slow clap in a way that, after nearly two months, I still can not comprehend.
The portions of food I get are humongous. They call it “African sized meals” but I think they are overdoing it. I think I have seen three people here sharing a hefty meal out of the same sized bowl they give to me. After some time I measured the portions and discovered that it was just over 2 liters. Yum.
At Titus’ house the meat is usually fish but sometimes other meats make their way to the table. When we got to Bissau it is usually only chicken so we get a break from constant fish. Usually there is a green slop that goes on the side too, this ensures that I get my greens and do not get scurvy or anything of that sort.
Meal times are a little bit different too. In the mornings I will eat my loaf of bread (no worries is a relatively small loaf… its no big feat to finish). Almost every morning I ‘toast’ it in a pot. Not only because it tastes great, but also because it is helpful in preventing me from getting cholera. In the late afternoon I get lunch. This is the big meal of the day and is nice and fresh. Dinner is much later, the people around here eat at around 10. The large spaces in between meals give a good amount of time to feel hungry. Usually they set out food for me before they eat. This is nice because my hunger is ended a little faster.
I do not think they grasp the concept of annoying here. Right now, while I am working on the computer, Mora came in, sat about 2 feet behind me and started playing the guitar and whistling. This is not an uncommon thing to do. Probably goes along with the always being loud thing, could also show a bit about a different perception personal space. While I am not sure what it means to them, I know for me it is a little agrivating. Perhaps I will get used to it, or at least learn a bit more about it in the future.
Well, if you made it this far you are a true friend (or relative). Congrats on your reading skills. Hope at least most of it was comprehensive. I will also add that yesterday I went to the base and received 3 letters! (two sets of grandparents and Nate Smith from Costa-Rica.) While I have been warned about a 3 month wait, they only took one month to get here. Awesome. If you want to know the address I will put it up again in a bit.
Later,
Steven Berkenpas
