This Week

I spent a lot of time in the camp this week. It's heating up here which means we're back to the whole '5 liters of water a day' thing. Only when I'm out there I always seem to get distracted and I don't drink near enough. Plus it's just not a realistic expectation that I will carry 5 liters of water with me and, while I don't hesitate to drink a glass or two of hot, dirty water, I just can't bring myself to drink large amounts in one sitting. All of this means that on the days that I go out to the camp I come home dehydrated and sick. I drink alot of gatorade, but that only helps so much. This isn't really important except to say that now I'm sick alot and it stinks.
This is Mary and her youngest son.

And then here's Mary with all her kids. shhh...don't tell her you're seeing a picture of her uncovered! They are so cute.

And here I am unbraiding her little girl's hair. No matter how many times I explain to them that my white girl hair is different than their African hair they just don't seem to understand that mine won't braid like theirs and that I actually don't know how to do their hair. It's really fun to take my hair out of a pony tail for them...they are amazed that it doesn't just stick in one place like their's does!

And here's a bunch of random girls. I've taken so many pictures out there that now when I go visit the little kids actually ask me 'Where is your camera? Are you going to take our picture today?' Then they get all excited because they know that after I take a few I'll let them see on the screen. And if they're lucky I'll let them stand behind me and watch the screen as I'm taking them...they just love it!

Broken DVD Player

A few months ago my DVD player broke. I could put in a DVD but it wouldn't even recognize that there was something in there. I found some greasy guy with a shop on the side of the road and he charged me $20 to clean it out.

Tonight it broke again, only this time I didn't feel like paying another $20 for the guy to clean it out. I only paid $40 for it in the first place and I just can't bring myself to spend $40 for 'maintenance and repairs' when it's only worth that much, for goodness sake! So I decided to do it myself. Can't be that hard, right?

I pulled out all the screws, took off the cover and found all kinds of dust in there. I blew it out but found yet another cover over the lens. Last time greasy guy said the lens was the problem so I figured I needed to get to it.

Then came the 'warning, danger of radiation' sign. So I asked my roommate 'How should I feel about radiation?' And she says 'I've heard you should avoid it.' And I say 'well there can't be that much in here, what about those Chinese kids that get like 30 cents a day to sit and put these things together?'

I went about pulling off the metal plate, blew it out, put it back on, tried it out and it seemed to work except for that there was no picture, only sound. I'm ashamed to say that, while it took me only 15 minutes to fix the DVD player for the first time in my life, it took me 15 more to figure out that the reason why there was no picture was because the yellow/white/red cord was in the wrong place.

So I might not be quite as technologically inclined as I would like to believe but 2 years in the Sandbox have proven that I can fix a lot of random and weird things by myself!!

New Magazine

There is this new magazine in the Sandbox and it focuses solely on the financial and economical aspects of the Sandbox. It's surprisingly informative and, honestly, you can tell that it's either not written by locals or it's written by locals who have spent their entire lives out of the country. Either way, here are a few quotes that I found interesting from this month's issue:

'At the moment the minister (of labor) does not know exactly how many foreign workers there are in the Sandbox, but the ministry is conducting a survey and after 25 years this survey will determine the range of available skills and the composition of the workforce...'

'...workers often leave to attend social events during work hours. More than 80% of evening shift workers say their afternoon prayer in the factory after the working period has started. Then, after a short while they go out for a second prayer, then a third and fourth prayer - this causes a lot of disruption.'

'A borehole drilling team recently reported having to pay soldiers $50 per truck; a fine levied because the drivers were wearing open-toed sandals.'
Wow...that's a survey alright. Because things probably won't have changed by the time they get around to publishing their findings. And 'a lot of disruption'? I'd say. And it's a good thing I'm not a truck driver on a borehole drilling team because I only own open-toed sandals at the moment. It's too hot to be wearing anything else so I'd be paying a whole lot of fines!

Tennis

Last night some friends took me to the tennis club. Who would have thought that the Sandbox would have a tennis club, much less a halfway decent court?!?!? Of course the people who go there are the more well off (i.e. richest) people around.

It really was a stark contrast to the rest of my life here. Yesterday morning I was out in the camp where I observed some children eating breakfast...they were eating the same thing that we feed our dog. I was a little unnerved to say the least. Then I visited with a woman who has absolutely no money, if they want to eat they have to go to the market and ask for some gas to cook with, flour, sugar, pretty much any thing that they eat they are given. It's not their fault, not like they are capable but lazy. It's circumstances that they have no control over. It's not like they don't want to work, it's that they're not physically able and it sucks.

So I went from realizing that our dog eats better than these kids I know to sitting and crying with a woman who can't feed her own children to sitting and watching a tennis match with the richer people of the Sandbox who completely ignore the fact that there are people suffering right in front of them. It was a tough day.

Don't believe anyone when they tell you that the entire problem/conflict is a product of the media and exaggerated by the Western world. I've seen the people's misery, I am struggling to walk alongside them and it is all very real.

Breaking Census News

OK, So I'm not sure how a census is supposed to be conducted. I haven't actually ever observed one in America so I just don't know. I do know how it works here and it seems a little strange.

Yesterday half of the country decided that they didn't want to partake in the census. Then some other groups decided that if those people weren't going to then they weren't going to either. The national holiday that was declared for tomorrow may or may not be happening...the census may be happening tomorrow or it may be happening in a week (because whatever issues were important enough for half the country to refuse the census will be resolved within a week?)

Seeing as how it's Monday afternoon I'm just wondering when we'll hear if the holiday tomorrow is or is not cancelled. At some point I would like to know if I need to plan a day tomorrow or if I need to plan to stay at home listening for the knock of the lady in the blue baseball cap and vest so that I can watch the expression on her face when I tell her that it's just me and an old Sandbox guy in this big house.

Chances are that, even if tomorrow's holiday is cancelled, word will not have spread and, conveniently, people won't be working. Because let's face it, when you're African and you have an excuse to take a day off and do nothing why wouldn't you?

In other news I had to climb on the roof at 5am last night b/c there was water coming from somewhere and leaking everywhere, so much that it woke me up. 5am. That's the Sandbox my friends.

$46

In February when Shanna came to visit she brought me all kinds of goodies. Pretty much every day I would send her an email listing things that she could bring and somehow she managed to bring it all and then some. One of the surprises she threw in was some Kraft cheddar cheese. Up to that point I was buying cheese in Kenya and bringing it in with me. It was good enough, I mean, cheese is cheese, right? Then Shanna brought the real cheese and it was sooo good. When I finished that I went back to my Kenyan stash and it wasn't good at all. I had really been content with the Kenyan substitute until I had the good stuff and then the substitute just couldn't quite cut it.

About 2 weeks ago a friend of a friend came to K-town and wanted to know if he could bring me anything. Of course at the top of the list was some cheddar cheese. Little known fact, cheese can go without being refrigerated. It might taste a little different, but 24 hours in a suitcase is no problem.

Friday I was at the grocery store and I saw some of the exact same cheese that he brought me...only it was $23. Yes, that's right. $23 for a small block of cheese. So thanks so much to the H's who set me up with D who brought me $46 of cheese in his suitcase!!!

April 10, 2008 (K-Town) — Secretariat of the Council of Ministers today announced that Tuesday, April 15, 2008 an official holiday throughout the country to implement the fifth Sandbox Population and Housing Census.

The census enumeration will be conducted for two weeks from 15 to 30 April 2008, despite the opposition of rebel movements and other non signatory groups.

The secretary also announced a ban on the movement of means of transportation between the cities of the country during that day in order to ensure the participation of all citizens in the census.

The 2008 census will be conducted through the traditional approach. It will be a de facto census and will count all persons who spent census night in the Sandbox. This will mean nationals and foreigners alike whether in households, institutions, nomadic settlements, homeless, refugees and displaced camps etc, so long as they spent census night in the Sandbox would be enumerated.

So apparently I will be counted in the census along with all the homeless and nomadic settlements that they can track down. I'm not sure how they will find them and how they can be sure they don't count them twice if they meet them down the road later in the day. I'm also not sure how I feel about the entire country being shut down including all means of transportation between cities but I guess that's how they do it in Africa.

Anniversary

As of yesterday April 9 I have been in the Sandbox for 2 years. 2 years, 5 apartments, and I've traveled to 7 different countries...that's really all of the things I can think of to count from the past 2 years. But it feels like a huge accomplishment, even though at the same time it feels like I just got here 2 months ago.

Thank you so much to all of y'all who have been thinking about me and supporting me. I definitely could not be here without you!

Henna

Those of you who have been reading my blog for the past 2 years might remember the time I went to get henna (the hand-drawn type of temporary tattoo/body art that is common in this culture) and had an allergic reaction. Since then I've totally avoided it. I don't want that same reaction again or something worse.

But there are actually 2 types of henna. The one I am allergic to is made with hair dye and is actually extremely poisonous if ingested. The other is a paste made of some sort of crushed up leaves and mixed with water and there was no getting out of it yesterday.

So here I am playing with some little girls while I wait for the henna to be mixed.
Here I am with it on my fingers. It's kind of like mud. Sandy carefully wrapped the ends of my fingers (along with my fingernails) in the paste and then I had to sit for about 30 minutes waiting for it to set in. In this culture married women keep their fingers, toes and the bottoms of their feet constantly henna'd so that everyone that they meet can be sure that they are married.

Since I'm not married and since I wasn't particularly interested in having all of my fingers and especially not the bottoms of my feet blackened I insisted on having only 2 fingers, which is also culturally appropriate.
The little girls loved it too and they took all the extra pieces that fell on the ground and did their own hands. Then everyone else who came to drink coffee with us got really excited and did theirs too so it was like a big henna event with all these women holding their fingers in the air, trying to drink coffee with only the palms of their hands. It was fun!

At one point Sandy turned to me and said 'Do you have any toothpaste?' What is strange is that I was spending the night with a friend last night so I actually did have toothpaste. I find several things about this interesting: 1) I have never been asked if I have any toothpaste in my bag so that someone could borrow it for something other than brushing their teeth. 2)For some reason she actually thought that I would have toothpaste in my bag or else she wouldn't have asked. 3)I totally confirmed her suspicions and now they probably think I carry around all kinds of crazy stuff with me every day b/c who actually has an entire tube of toothpaste in their purse?!?!

She mixed the toothpaste with some sort of powder. I asked her what it was and she told me in Arabic so I still didn't actually know what it was but I figure it was probably rat poison or something equally random and strange. Then she put this liquid stuff on, I call it lighter fluid although it is clear and pink so more likely it's antifreeze. Then we put some hair gel on and that was it.

No allergic reaction this time but that's because it's from natural leaves and not poison hair dye...and now my fingers are stained black and will be for the next month...and then after it comes off of my skin I still have to wait forever for my fingernails to grow out. It's weird and strange and gross looking but they all think it's beautiful and several people today have stopped me in the street to look and comment on my henna.

This is a picture of the hair oil that they used. While I was sitting with my fingers in the air one of the women asked me if I could put this oil in my hair and I told her no. She asked why and I didn't know how to explain it but I told her it just doesn't work on white people hair, only on black people hair and she said 'so then who are these white people in the picture on the jar if they can't even use it?' No, they're not white people by American definition but they are definitely Mexican or at least some race that would NOT be using oil for their hair.

Special Drink

The food here isn't that bad, really. I've been served a lot of worse things in other countries than I have been here. Most of what we have, while it might not taste good, isn't weird by my definition...monkey brains, eyeballs, etc....although there was the one goat brain experience but it wasn't like the brain was served on a platter and I didn't know it was in there until much later. That's beside the point. Most of the staple food items in the Sandbox are edible, sometimes even enjoyable to eat....but some are not.

There is a special drink during Ramadan called 'Hilu Moor' and it is not good...think worcestershire sauce with a lot of sugar served at room temp. I thought that was the most disgusting drink I would have in the Sandbox until today.

I love Hailey so much, I visit her often and we can sit and talk for hours. She always treats me like a guest even though she always says 'mi casa es su casa' in Arabic. And being treated like a guest means being served a glass of water and then being served some sort of juice or coke. I usually try to bring a 2-Liter with me when I go to poorer people's houses...that way I can be sure they don't go out and spend a precious 25 cents on buying me a coke that I don't even want, but usually Hailey makes some TANG and just adds alot of sugar so I stopped bringing a drink with me to her house. I wish she had made TANG today.

Instead we were served this. I saw her walking up with it and thought 'oh no. orange, apple, lemon, mango...what kind of powdered fruit juice mix could possibly turn that color?!?!' She sat it down and said 'do you drink this?' always a bad sign! There was no turning back, she had already brought two full glasses for us, we couldn't say we didn't drink it. In my mind I imagine that I'm a good actress, that maybe in those slow motion seconds when they're intently watching me lift something gross to my mouth I am actually faking them out and not letting them know that I am just absolutely dreading the taste of whatever is coming. I don't know if that's the case, but today I took a sip with confidence, stifled a gag, and asked what it was. She said 'oh, it's just flour, water and a little sugar. Really you take the water, mix the flour in with some sugar and a little lemon juice and then cook it for a while until it thickens'. And thicken it did.

Imagine homemade vanilla pudding without vanilla or sugar or anything else good in it. Now imagine that it's been sitting on the counter for a while and has somehow turned into a gel of sorts, that there are clumps of flour that didn't get mixed in, and you're drinking it from a cup...then there's the citrus aftertaste. Mouth watering, huh? My friend got her's down, amazingly. I happened to have a water bottle in my purse and most of mine might have ended up in there. It wasn't so much the taste as it was the texture...and the small bug that I spotted gelled in about halfway down the cup.

I don't know about anyone else but I remember when I was little if I ever said that I was hungry around bed time my mom would just say ' go drink a glass of water'. It never really filled me up but I knew she wasn't going to let me have a snack so I just did it. Well Mom, if you had just added some flour and cooked it for a while...
I love it when the women feed the goats while I'm at their house. The little kids get so excited because they like to eat the grass too...not just chew on it, they actually eat it. I guess it tastes good? I haven't been brave enough to try it, nor has it been offered to me.

Another thing that I've been served at Hailey's house, bless her, was pretty memorable. We have this bread called kisra. There is nothing comparable in the states but if you've ever had Ethiopian injeera bread it's kind of like with the sour taste only thinner. For descriptive purposes just imgaine that it was de-crusted white bread with some lemon juice sprinkled on top. Also our yoghurt here isn't the same either. In town I use processed yoghurt but out there the guy in the market makes it from goat milk every morning so it's fresh and very runny.

Anyways, so Hailey brings us this big bowl of the kisra bread drowned in yoghurt and with tons of sugar for us to eat with our hands. I don't mind eating with my hands but this was like pulling bread out of a bowl of milk. The first taste of every bite was so sweet it was like eating straight sugar, then came the texture that made me gag a lot, then the bitter yoghurt taste so bad that it made my tongue feel like I was eating chalk. Then if I could finally swallow I got the kick of the sour bread that only made me gag again. Needless to say, carrying a disposable water bottle around wherever you go has come in handy more than once!!!

How is the Heat?

It's been a little warm lately. The kind of warm that puts a smile on your face b/c you know you won't be spending forever in hell. Sounds a little odd but it's really that hot here.

What I love is that every time I go to visit someone they ask me 'How is the heat?' Really it starts with 'how are you?' and them moves to 'how are: your family, your friends, your health, your situation, your work, your life, your friends, etc.' It can really go on like that for a while, especially when I answer every question with a 'good' and then repeat the question back to them, as is only polite.

After a few minutes of all that there comes this pause, about 15 seconds of silence, and it never fails that the silence is broken with 'and how is the heat?'. Now given that I've answered every question up to this point with a 'good' they're probably expecting another good, right? Well I don't want to lie and I don't want to tell the truth and say it's miserable so I always answer with 'it came'.

Not really funny, at least I don't really think so, but for them it's as if I had just said the funniest thing they've ever heard. They just laugh and laugh. Then 30 minutes later when another visitor comes they go through their greetings and then they don't have that awkward 15 seconds of silence because they just break right into 'I asked her how the heat was and she said it came!!!'. Then they laugh for a while. And then the next visitor comes...I think you see where I'm going with this.

Really, I'm a funny girl. Not so much in English but in Arabic, apparently, I could be a comedian.

Me & Mohammed

This is Mohammed...not the best picture but it's difficult to take pictures of Africans in dark lighting on Christmas morning. Anyways, Mohammed is the sweet, funny old man that lives behind my house. We sort of inherited him. Our landlord hired him several years ago to guard the place when it was empty. When we moved in the landlord gave us the option of keeping him or not and initially we didn't really think it would be a great idea to have a stranger living with us. Now I can't imagine living there without him, he's kind of like a grandpa.

He's a refugee (as it seems the majority of people are in this crazy place) from the West.

Recently I've found myself living alone in this big house...well not alone really since Mohammed lives there too. Random but there is this Twix commercial on TV in Arabic that repeats for an annoying long amount of time 'me and you, me and you, me and you'. So when it was just me and Mohammed I said 'well, it's just me and you, me and you, me and you now' and he really just looked at me like 'what the heck are you talking about?!?'. Then I realized that, seeing as how he lives in my backyard, he probably doesn't know the Twix commercial. I felt kind of stupid but I also didn't know how to explain any of that in Arabic so we just moved on. No wonder he thinks I'm crazy!!

He works at night sometimes, every 4th night actually, and he is really worried about what I will do on the nights he works. I was explaining to him yesterday that it's all taken care of, that we have another guy who will come and guard on those nights, but he was not content with that answer. Today he went to my boss's house (it's strange but everyone knows who everyone is and where everyone lives and you just never know when someone you didn't expect to know where you live will knock on the door) just to be sure that I really will be taken care of on the nights that he works.

I thought that was really sweet. Now that my friends have moved he's totally taken personal responsibility for me. I really don't have to worry about living on my own because good old Mohammed is taking care of me.